Ever heard of low-confidence issues?

I bet you have.

No worries though, I know how it feels. I have been a victim since God knows when.

At times my self confidence as a young black woman falters. I mean, with society expecting me to look, act or dress in a certain way, its normal to feel less adequate and maybe worthless and useless.

But the revolution is here.

Fear not black girl ( and other beautiful ladies too) for you can be your own boss.

Here are a few tips on how you can boost your confidence level as a woman;


There is no better way to boost your own confidence level than by loving yourself. Acknowledge the fact that you are unique, you are special and you matter. Appreciate yourself. Know your flaws, your weaknesses, your strengths and your abilities. Praise yourself each morning when you wake up, tell yourself you are beautiful, appreciate the jewellery your wear on that day or that perfume you have on. State good things about you when you feel worthless or you feel like a loser. Never let people define you. You are unique and you should love yourself for that.


Hey, you are worth it and you are capable. As a black woman, you are faced with various challenges but with each challenge comes an opportunity to shine. Eliminate negative self talk. Stay away from negative people; it can either be friends or your partners or your family, and instead strive to be around more positive and appreciative people. Replace “i can’t” with “i can,” “i am able to,” or :i am capable.” Constantly challenge yourself to do better and get out of your comfort zone. Believe in yourself and others will too.


Calm, down your stress hormones. Avoid people or situations that induce stress. Overthinking solves nothing, instead, it rids you of your happiness and joy and doesn’t allow you to enjoy the little things in life. Meditate, do yoga, read a book, get enough sleep, drink water, take care of your skin, meet new people. Do anything that makes you focus on the good and not the bad. A happy person also tends to be more confident.


Grooming is essential for any confident woman. Stay well groomed. Have a bath or take a shower, dab on some perfume, wear clothes that you are comfortable in, do your nails, put on make-up, doll yourself up.  A person who looks good automatically feels good and that surely boosts one’s confidence level. Don’t get too obsessed with how you look though. Simply be yourself, look glamorous and slay the whole day.

Be a confident black woman who is outgoing, sassy and not afraid of going for what she wants.

Let’s slay together!


I tell you these words in utmost confidence child.
Prepare for a war; a war against yourself.
People are coming child.
People who will sap the life out of you.
These people will attack you when you least expect it.
They will ambush you when your guard is down.
They will come for you child.
Oh yes they will!
They will come for you because you have the love they so badly need.
They will come for you because of your never ending determination.
They will come for you because you constantly choose to stand for yourself.
They will come for you because you dare to question the current state of affairs.
They come for you because of your insatiable thirst for knowledge and understanding.
They will come for you because the child from your loins is already born a hero.
They will come for you because you are never broken, no matter how much they try.
They will come for you because you attempt to liberate your tribe every day.
They will come for you because they hate “woke” folks and instead want easily gullible sheep.
They will come for your because they see your own skin colour as a threat; a reason to mistreat you.
They will come for you because you are a barrier to their own selfish ways.
They will come for you because you don’t wallow in ignorance and learned people are dangerous child.
They will beat your back and break your spirit.
They will rape your women and cripple your children.
They will steal your traditions while erasing your people’s beliefs.
They will infringe your sacred space without your consent.
Oh my child!
If you are brave then listen to me.
It’s your time to stand up, to be strong and fight back.
It’s your duty to lead your people to the freedom they so badly seek.
Because they will come for you.
My child, they will come for you because that is what they do best,
Silence the seekers of truth.


It’s funny how people claim they know me.
Or when they try to convince themselves so bad that they know who I am.
Most of the time when I hear this, I let out a chuckle.
An inward chuckle.
I don’t laugh in their faces.
That would be rude and society hates rude people; or so they claim.
You claim you know me.
That I am an open book with no secrets.
That my soul is transparent with no dark corners.
That you have seen me naked several times but what exactly do you know about me?
Or wait, are you taking about you knowing how my nipples are dark and pierced?
Or how my hips are a darker shade of black where they meet my womanly core?
Or how I talk in my sleep and say stupid things?
Or how I moan when someone goes down on me?
Or how my buttocks look in a tight fitting skirt?
Oh how my hips have lots of cellulite and stretch marks?
What exactly do you know about me?
What makes you think having a knowledge of my body means knowing who I am?
What makes you think that seeing my naked self makes you know who I am?
Have you ever seen me naked?
How many of you have ever seen me naked?
I am not taking about seeing my nipples or my thighs or my vagina.
I am talking about me being naked.
I mean have many of you have have ever seen me NAKED?
The real me without the pretense? My vulnerable self without all the false charade I put up to fool you?
I bet most people will say yes, because they judge me by the works I write but that’s not me.
I bet most people will say yes going by the conversations we have on facebook, whatsapp and other social media platforms but that’s not me.
That’s not my naked self.
You have never seen me naked if I have never stripped my soul bare in front of you without any fear or hesitation.
You have never seen me naked if you have never seen my twin at 3 a.m.; the one with the suicidal thoughts, that insomniac with a crippling anxiety who is waist deep into depression.
You have never seen me naked if I have never cried in your arms; letting my tears wash away my pain and agony.
You have never seen me naked if I have never embraced my true self in front of you. What most of you see, that’s a mask I put on to hide my real self.
You have never seen me naked if you have never seen how I blankly stare at the wall, hurting inside but too proud to cry.
You have never seen me naked if I have never opened up to you about my dreams, my fears, my goals and ambitions while sitting on a rooftop at 2 Am, smoking a cigarette.
You have never seen me naked if you have never seen how my eyes light up whenever I speak about something I love.
What you think you know about me,  that’s the physical part of it.
That does not matter to me.
You only know how my tummy sags when I have no clothes on.
You only know how flat my breasts are against my chest or how my back has pimples.
You only know how thin my legs are or how red my eyes are.
You only know how coarse my hair is or how chipped my nails are.
That’s all you know.
That’s what you see.
That’s what you allow yourself to see.
Physically, you know every corner of my body but my naked self?


depression-art-galleryOf late my mind has been full of unsaid thoughts. Unspoken ideas. Emotions that have not yet been expressed. My head is in a turmoil. My heart is in a mess. My soul is damaged. My pride is gone. I’m still smarting from the realisation that I will always be alone.



I am writing this while I am drunk but anyway, does it matter to you?

Ooh wait I forgot, it never did.

Anyway, I am not here to exchange pleasantries. You remember our break up?

Our breakup was among the first and the worst I ever had. I was 18, stupid, obsessed and so much into you; a boy who never even spent time with me (away from your bedroom that is). We never got to know each other well. We were both from different towns and I was convinced it was love. I was a fool for thinking you could fall for a girl like me.

When we broke up, or rather when you dumped me, that was when my whole existence came to a standstill. I lost all hope in life, I cried myself to sleep almost everyday and I constantly asked God, why me.

After some time, I just got tired of acting all miserable and sad and wanting sympathy from everyone who cared to hear how shitty you were. It got so hard wanting to go back to the old me. Most of the time, I was just breaking inside but I was too tired to cry.

Instead of whining and bitching around as I did earlier on, I tried to numb my pain with endless parties, random hookups and lots of drugs. Messed up mascaras and stale lipsticks became part of me. I was always wanting to sleep in, miss classes and not wake up until the next day. I refused to cry. I refused to open up.

I cant even relate with love quotes right now.

You wrecked me.

You made me cynical.

You destroyed a part of me that I had worked to hard to gain.

You convinced me that I was a loser. after all, I had been a loser my whole life. you always told me that.

Everyday, I smoke a joint and drink myself silly thinking of how fucked up I was. I shouldn’t have let you go. I could have killed you, yes, kill you and then I kill myself too.

Yes. I understand, I HATE YOU, but I am not stupid enough to kill myself because of you.

You destroyed me and built me at the same time THANK YOU.

your crazy ex.



When do you know that it’s time to leave your people in pursuit of your dreams?

When do you get to know that you need something better? That you deserve something better?

My family has caused me more hurt and pain in the past few months making these particular months some of the hardest in my life.

I usually thought I could take it all but I just realized that everyone has a breaking point.

Everyone has a specific amount of shit they can take before they finally snap.

Personally, this is more than enough for me. I have snapped.

I need out.

I wish I had the strength and courage to pack up my bags and just leave.

I wish I couldn’t let my mother’s hurtful words get to me each time something bad happens to us.

Honestly, I am tired of being used as a scapegoat.

I am tired of being the black sheep of the family.


Nyar Afrika.




Most people always wonder why I take my time to do something archaic and out dated like writing. They see writing as a waste of time, something left to people who do English and Literature.

PSA! One, I am an English and literature major and two, I am a writer.

Okay, so you may be wondering what type of writing I am talking about. Well I am talking about thew good old form of writing, the one where you take a pen and a paper and pour your emotions out.

Sounds like something hard? yeah. right.

It’s hard because most people prefer to bottle up their emotions.

With the invention of modern technological ways of writing like typing which makes work easier, writing your thoughts on a paper can become something tedious for most of us.

Personally for me,

I knew I was gifted child when it came to languages especially English when I was around 7. My interest in books was so great that by the age of 10, I had read so many books that I couldn’t remember some. Funny huh? Not really. It happens.

Anyway, fast forward into adulthood, I came to appreciate the beauty of writing.

Writing is the only form of art that keeps me sane. That exhilaration that comes from seating in front of your computer and being able to literally BLEED is totally awesome.

Most writers can relate.

Through writing, I find a voice. I am able to speak about things I normally can’t say out loud.

Writing helps me be myself. It helps me embrace my true inner self.

Through my stories, I travel all over the world.

Yes, my mind is a place full of ideas.

Writing gives me a way of expressing my emotions without coming out as needy or attention seeking in this world full of egocentric assholes.

Whenever I feel sad, I find it easy to grab a book and create a character that’s undergoing a situation similar to mine than calling a friend and talking about it.

Yeah. I know. I know. Most of the times we need friends but then again, the people we need the most are ourselves.

I can go on and on ranting about why I choose to write but all I can say is writing is the only way we can show our true selves without letting our guard down.

I mean, nobody likes heartbreaks right?


I want to scream.
I want to shout.
I want to cry.
I want to throw a fit.
I want to break things and start a fight for no reason.
I want to set myself on fire or slash my wrists.
I want to put a bullet in my head or dangle lifeless from a noose.
I want to bang someone’s head on a car repeatedly until it’s smashed; his face unrecognizable.
I want to claw at my face.
I want to pull my hair until it stings.
I want to be rude and avoid people.
I want to smoke and sulk the whole day.
I want to hurt people for no reason at all.
My anger is killing me.
It’s eating me.
My own self hate is devouring me alive.
It’s completely destroying me, one feeling at a time.
I’m way past loving myself.
I am annihilated.
I can’t be saved.
I can’t even save myself.





Generally I’m tired.

Things exhaust me of late.

I’m out in pursuit of what I can’t get. Or wait, can I get it but I just don’t want to go for it?

Life is a bitch especially when I feel like this.

Like I am just a worthless piece of shit.


I’m so done over here.

*Smokes another joint*

skinny love by Birdy plays in the background.