Who are you? In fact who cares? You do. That’s enough isn’t it?
There’s a depth you go to that you don’t recognise as a time for help, because all your life growing up you’ve become conditioned to self preservation, yet and this is only a paradox to others, a deep feeling for your community prevails.
Every woman older than you is your auntie. Every man your uncle, and when they greet you and ask how you are, your reply irrespective of your condition, is , “I’m fine auntie, how are you?” “Is there something I can do?” This was the way.
There was no sense it would come to pass, but no self pity either. It was just the way it was. That structure, tapestry is where strength unseen is called upon. In days when you know you’ve been violated, it was this collective melanin that helped absorb the toxicity. And so you press on with a smile, sanguine.
And then at some point you recognise, you are now auntie and uncle and your breath provides an alternative to your status quo. Respectful yes, but retrieve.
In Akan language Sankofa. This is the way.
