Tag Archives: a bad woman

January 14, 2011 · 9:00 am

My first time I am letting go of poisonous relationships

I cannot believe the turnaround my life has made. About three months ago I was consulting Psychologists and taking medication for a deep, dark hole which had encompassed my life. I was lost. The pain I felt at the betrayal cut raw into my veins every day, it hurt so bad I couldn’t move or think. I felt as if my life was over even writing this I feel tears well up inside of me as I turn my head to the sun trying my best to struggle past the feeling I thought I could never stand against. I grew spiritually and emotionally and after the struggle I had with my inner demons I found I can now thank the people who caused this most excruciating part of my life.

It’s hard to tell you exactly what went wrong. There is no point in my mind when I could honestly say I heard a snap of breaking bones and hearts, but try as I might I have looked for the point when I should have just thrown in the towel and let it all go but I just cannot find it. I stood my ground and was a good friend but sometimes the problem is not you, its them, this will probably be the most important advice you will ever receive. I have gone through this  over and over in my head wondering what I did wrong to deserve this, and I come up blank, I have always been the one to shoulder blame when things did not go right and I often found myself drowning under stress and strain which did not actually belong to me. Let it go. Be free, live your life.

The Queen Bee to you I say be gone. I let you into my heart and home and you betrayed me. I gave you a warm bed and food when you had nowhere else to go and you turned the knife in my back. You lied, and you stole from both my sister and I and you stole the most important possession I had and made a mockery of it. Your life is nothing but your own undoing. Shoulder your blame, understand you made mistakes and move forward.  As of this day I forgive you and I forget you.

The golden buzzer. You tried to get me fired, you lied. We went our separate ways a year ago and it should have stayed that way. You have never been a true friend. You back-stabbed and gossiped your way where you are. You take drugs and I disagree with your infidelity. Shoulder your blame. As of this day I forgive you and forget you.

The over-used. You my friend and mentor were the biggest disappointment. You caused two young girls to quit with your disgusting low handed behaviour. You never paid us and you never thanked us. Face the facts and forget about the lies. To you I say this, you drink too much, and have very bad relationships with your children, your life is empty and you are not wanted. I feel sorry for you no more. I was never your daughter, I was your employee. I forgive you and forget you.

The philanderer. You drew me into your web and sucked me dry when I had no more left to give you tossed me aside. You stole from me. You caused rifts in other relationships because of your lies. I never did sleep with you and I never would have as I may be the first and last girl you will ever find who is just not that kind. You have sex for money and cannot bear to be home with your wife and kids which is incredibly sad. You have mountains of debt and police charges which you just keep running away from. I forgive you and forget you.

Last but not least to myself. You made mistakes everyone does, you have picked yourself up and dusted yourself off and are willing to try again, for this I am proud of you. Your heart was ripped apart by people who did not deserve to be there in the first place, learn from these mistakes. Learn to trust again, but with people who trust themselves, learn to love again but with people who love you back and most of all learn to be positive in your new life and adventure.

To the few who stood by me:  A, V, B and  to a new relationship which has made me see the light K, I hold you all so dear in my heart and even though I may be moving away you will always mean the world to me. Thank you for being there for me when everyone I had been relying on was not. To the above mentioned people, you caused months of heartache and tears for me, but I thank you. You have given me the strength to break out of a bad habit which I should have left behind years ago and have allowed me to grow into the person standing here today saying: “This is me world, I’m ready”

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December 15, 2010 · 11:31 am

The first time I realised it was actually rape

The first time I realised it was actually rape, was the day after it happened. I knew what it was, and it was rape. I didn’t want to think about it though, so I didn’t. Not until now, when I have to face him. It was easy to ignore what had happened, because we don’t live in the same town anymore. But I’m moving back there. Where he lives. And I’m terrified.

I knew it was rape, but I wouldn’t believe that it was. Not until I started reading all the columns and news stories during the 16 days of activism against women and child abuse. That when I knew it was rape, and I couldn’t deny it anymore.

Until now, I hadn’t thought about all those protests I participated in, as part of the 1-in-9 campaign. I had forgotten about it. I taped my mouth shut for 24 hours in solidarity with the 8 out of 9 rape survivors who, because of social pressure, never report their rape(s). I fought for the rights of rape survivors, I prayed for them, and voiced my anger at the denial of their justice. I cried with them and laughed with them. And now, I am one of them.

How ironic.

Three years later, and here I sit denying myself my own justice. Because I am too shit scared.

He was a friend of mine. Actually, he was my ex-boyfriend’s best friend. He is my closest friend’s ex-boyfriend. He is a serial womaniser, and treats women as the means to satiate his sexual desires. I once heard he had slept with over 70 women. I am now one of them. But how many others also said ‘no’?

We were friends – but only God knows why. I think I trust people too much. I tried to support him through his bad break-up with my close friend. But because I have breasts and vagina, he saw my support as sexual flattery. I told him then, months ago, it would never happen. It was too complicated, too many people will get hurt. “It will never happen,” I told him.

How naive.

He told me he wanted to do “naughty things” to me, but if I didn’t want it, he would “control” himself. He continued making sexual jokes and comments, even when I told him they made me uncomfortable.

So I avoided him. I would not go to see my friends in the town where he lives, because I scared I would see him. I told him again and again that it would never happen between us. He asked me why I wouldn’t visit. In jest, I told him it was because I didn’t trust him. He told me I could trust him, but not when he had been drinking, “haha”. I told him it would never happen between us. He said he understood. He said “you’re still my super Journo friend whom I respect whole heartedly (sic)”. I believed him.

How stupid. How absolutely incredibly fucking stupid.

He came to my town, I suggested we meet up for drinks for old time’s sake. I was lonely, vulnerable in a new town, and honestly just wanted a friend to hang out with at a bar.  He said I could trust him – and I believed him.

He came to my house, so that I could introduce him to my dogs. I love my dogs – they mean everything to me. I was black-out drunk. I don’t remember much.

I do remember he kissed me. I do remember he carried me to my bedroom. I do remember he undressed me.

And I do remember saying no. I do remember stopping him. I do remember telling him that too many people would get hurt if we did this. I remember telling him I cared too much about my friend – I love her dearly. I don’t remember what he said in response, and I don’t remember what I said then.

But I know he didn’t stop.

The next day my thighs and my vagina hurt – I lied on my couch all day thinking about what happened. I showered twice. I cried and hugged my dogs. I slept on the couch that night, because I didn’t want to go near my bed – the scene of the crime – and the thought made me feel nauseated.

I considered laying a charge at the police. I have written evidence that I told him, months prior to that night, that I did not want to have sex with him. But would they believe me? I was black-out drunk. He was at my house, where I live alone with my two dogs. I took him home the next day. He has a reputation for sleeping around. Would anyone believe that I said ‘no’? That I tried to stop him? That I physically covered my vagina with my hands and told him, in no uncertain terms, that I did not want to have sex with him?

No one knows about that night. We are the only people that know. If I laid a charge against him, my friend will know. She will be hurt by me, after I tried so hard to protect her, and I was there for her, and I listened to her cry. I don’t want to hurt her. Everyone will know about that night. They will make my life hell. They will say it was not rape. They will question why I only reported in now, months after the fact. They will question, question, question.

But now I am moving back to the town where he lives. It’s a small town, and we have the same friends.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? I feel like I am betraying the cause by not charging him with rape.

But God, I am so scared. What should I do?

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November 16, 2010 · 10:42 am

The First Time I Cut My Hair

Ubuhle bentombi ziinwele zayo…a girl’s beauty is her hair…beauty is pain…this the advice i endured throughout most of my teens while pursuing silky relaxed hair at a great financial cost and physical pain caused by relaxer cream overdue in my hair. This advice was also to keep me from cutting my hair lest I risk being the ugly duckling. The first time I had my hair short, my mother cut it. My mother trimmed it so I could have an afro. I had wanted to cut everything off and start afresh, but this was not an option my mother gave me, I guess she feared I wouldn’t look like a girl anymore.

Second year varsity and I was away from home. On a cold day in May, ushering in the Grahamstown winter, I decided to cut my hair without permission from anyone…ichiskop(a bald head).it was cheap,R10 and the barber shaved it all off. The question of beauty didn’t cross my mind until I went home a few weeks later. My mother and sisters were crestfallen that my beautiful straightened hair was replaced by a bald head, “i can’t even look at you…you better start wearing make up and earrings all the time so people don’t think you’re a boy” were my sister’s words, a chronic beweaver and braider. As though my rounded frame and hips were not enough of a give away that I’m a woman. My mother was curt and to the point,”awusembi nje”(you look so ugly).

But I chose not to believe either of them. It was the first time I believed I was beautiful with or without my hair and I definitely didn’t need their approval on what it meant to be a woman. I cut my hair again this year, and I feel even more beautiful! I wear jewellery because I like it not because I’m hiding how plain I look and I wear red lipstick from time to time because I enjoy the colour not because I’m making up for the lack of my hair. I find it strange that many women can’t simply wear their hair without it being a statement: if you cut it all off you’re a lesbian or having an existential crises, if you weave it you’ve got too much money and time on your hands and risk being judged as being superficial and buying into the “West’s” conception of what beauty is, if you have an afro you’re a soul sister and carry the burden of being deep all the time. In cutting my hair people choose to see me as someone making a point and perhaps this has been the case in the past, but without that I would have never learned to appreciate that beauty is skin deep and not about the symbols we use and obsess about asserting who we are. India Arie puts it well “I am not my hair”!

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