Babes, Mabhebeza, My size, Dudlu ntombazana
It is spring day and I let my body experience freedom in a short floral dress
It is cool, and smells like heaven, and feels like looking at one’s baby after giving birth
Then suddenly I hear deafening voices screaming babes, mabhebeza, my size, dudlu ntombazana
I ignore them and try to walk straight, feign a brave face hiding the weakness in my knees
Then voetsek s’febe, skhebereshe, you’re ugly, a whore, a jezebel hahahahahaha
I go home and wash myself: soap plus water plus skin-trying to cleanse my bleeding heart
How do I wash myself of the humiliation? The violent entitlement?
And now spring day will never be the same, it will be like a cold winter night
It will smell like hospitals and feel like losing one’s baby after giving birth