By Nana Brantuo

Does my presence make you uneasy?

Does my story force you to face truths and realities you’d rather ignore?

That’s unfortunate

You see, I’ve lived my life

Recalling that day

Remembering that hour

Jumping at the touch of foreign hands

Shivering meeting unfamiliar eyes

I can’t seem to understand who plays the greater role?






All four of which conspire against me

Taking steps and plotting schemes to silence me

1)      Telling me it’s my fault

2)      Ridiculing my clothes and character

3)      Reminding me that my body is not my own

Remembering him grab me

Muffling my screams

Ignoring my objections

One No should have been enough.

No should not have been necessary…

All a painful reaffirmation that the body of a woman is unsafe in a world of binaries, bigots, and bystanders

Remembering the pain of his unwanted entry, his hands around my neck

Gasping for air

Begging and pleading

Crying and bleeding

Remembering his silence…

And the cold feeling that swept over me as I felt the blood creeping down my thighs

And tears sliding down my cheek

Counting the days, months, years it took to look at myself in the mirror without seeing the words

Whore and slut

Over my head

sebastiankmtco:heavenly. -sebas’

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What a powerful poem. Thanks for sharing Nana. Please write more for HOLAA!

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Perfect post

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[…] been published on For Harriet, an online community for women of African ancestry, as well as on HolaAfrica!, a Pan-Africanist Queer Womanist […]

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