You see a Girl
Dreamy eyes ( chinko eyes, as some people never fail to point out. Smh)
Let me raise the curtain, beyond the stage and show you what the backstage looks like…
There she is, all cleaned up and ready to dress for the day but she sighs. Not because there’s nothing to wear, many thanks to God for providing big sisters whose wardrobe she can confidently raid, but because she’s stuck.
She can’t wear the red dresses because somehow, random men try to touch her in public
She can’t wear the royal blue coloured dresses because men in cars have their lewd thoughts written all over their faces as they watch her go by
She can’t wear the black dresses because one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten men catcall like she’s some pimp looks for a quick fix
She can’t wear the white dresses because there’s honey to the bees only these men can see
Her arms are covered. The fabrics flow around her thighs and drop at her knees. Her neck is plain and visible. She’s (just) there. Plain ol’ natural.
As she goes through her clothes, blood rush to her ears and she’s blinded by her tears
She loses her breath for a while and takes deep breaths like the doctors advise. Panic attacks won’t have the best of her
So she settled for the regular brown and blue skirts. The usual black tops. The same coloured gowns. Anything to take the attention off her
They told her to cover up, she does yet this happens. Every. Single. Day.
She’s learning to live with it. On many days she prays them away but on every day there’s a backstage process that leads us to here.
When You See Me.