Confessions of a libra

Sensual, Sovereign | Credit: Here

26.05.25

I’ve entered an era wherein people are finally seeing me instead of interpreting me. Many have realised that they only knew slivers of me, neatly packaged to accommodate other’s lack of nuance. It’s been exhausting over the years to repackage myself. To have people comment on my intellect like it was a novelty. Getting patted on the back for writing a good email, when I knew the extend of my writing prowess. To those of you who have been led to this blog, who resonate with the frequency of my words and my mind – I see you seeing me. I’ve bit my tongues in rooms where my opinion was invalidated in favour of anyone who looked more ‘acceptable’. I’ve been stripped of roles in favour of the same. I’ve been sabotaged because somewhere deep down, people sensed I was going places and that terrified them more than anything.

Women already modify their behaviour to appease men. Part of the reason I have gotten further with white men than white women, is by learning how to charm them. Considering modern society has them placed at the top of the totem pole, even though they deeply struggle with self esteem and worthiness – they soak it up like sponges. Whereas women see in me competition, the one whose intellect threatens the very foundation of superiority they were provided.

The unique nature of being a black woman is it’s not just white people who condescend. Every other people of colour feel superior to black people. There’s an unspoken, well at least I’m not black sentiment. I have had many a South Asian friend in this country and despite the friendships, I have sensed a superiority complex in almost all of them. There was one girl in particular I’ll never forget. We took a photo together, she was darker skinned than me, then she proceeded to state how she was lighter skinned. She was literally gaslighting me over an image in my phone.

Blackness as imposed by the West is one of the biggest barriers I have had to face. People have struggled to meet me and learn me. Instead they met me and categorised me. Often people have said, that story you just told me doesn’t seem very you. Doesn’t it? Are you sure? Do you know me better than I know myself? This is the experience of being a black woman. Everyone in the world believes they are better than you, while leaning on you for your labour. The same way that colonisation and white supremacy has always operated. Black people were savage, backwards and closest to primates. Yet we were the very ones cleaning your houses, breastfeeding your children and funnelling money into your accounts by virtue of free labour.

For decades upon decades, white scientists were convinced that Neanderthals were stupid, primitive and brutal in comparison to Homo sapiens. This is when they assumed that Africans had Neanderthal DNA. Then in the 2000’s once it was discovered that mostly white and East Asian people carry the most Neanderthal DNA, suddenly they are misunderstood sophisticates. What we can learn here, is the stupidity of othering. When you go around the world only caring to look at others through one very limited lens, not being open to being taught, you end up with egg on your face.

There is a reason that Westerners go to developing countries to find themselves. Have you ever wondered why the people that supposedly have everything are going to India to become ‘gurus’ or Southern Africa to become ‘sangomas’? There is more to life than riches. That’s the simplest answer I can give you. You need to start thinking twice before you extend your sympathy to someone with less money. Instead ask what they can teach you. Instead ask them what makes life worth living, and believe them. Me and every excellent black woman have had to struggle under the weight of being exceptionalised. While we have always known we are the norm.

It is freeing to finally be recognised as someone who is sensual and intellectually sovereign. For many years I have watched the cognitive dissonance in people who thought I should be either or. As though there is something greedy about enjoying aesthetic beauty while nursing the intellect. Many black women view their beaty and sensuality as an intrinsic part of life. Not as a fun party trick. When I dress I am curating my mood. I am choosing expression that exemplifies my mood or the energy I want to project for the day. My sensuality is my own and this can be challenging, especially to male-centred women. They see my beauty and my sensuality as a rival act to draw in as many men as possible. Yet my sensuality is only powerful because it’s authentic and quiet. What others project onto me is none of my business.

I’ve never needed to prove myself to anyone. For many the signs were there, the conversations were had and you simply were not listening. I know there are people reading my words or watching me on Youtube and saying ‘she always said she would do this’. Projection is a hell of a drug and as a society the more we can learn about it and look in the mirror, the less grating our interactions will be. I wish you all the kind of peace that comes from truly being yourself without any barriers. You should never make yourself small to be digestible.

Written under Lilith’s juridiction.

Signed in bone and brilliance.