LuSea Bee | G(Old)
A true story - bra(h).
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i. Ikea, iCare

E’ come essere nati a complimenti, schiaffi e cruda realta’ con un cenno piccolissimo di bullismo presentato su un tegame di fede frustrante nel prossimo con accompagnamento in salsa agrodolce di totale, banalissima impossibilita’ di poter cambiare certe situazioni della propria vita.

Ciò che apre questo articolo quasi forzato e struggente è quel che può essere definito, in 1,2, 3 righe e mezzo, la storia della mia esperienza con la crescita, la scoperta e la ricerca di me stessa che a dirla tutta, è ancora in corso.

Per tutta la mia vita, ho sempre pensato di essere un libro aperto, di essere la classica ragazza della porta accanto, la solita, una delle tante insomma. Ho riso e soprattutto ho fatto ridere, mi sono sempre mostrata forte anche quando le cose non andavano come da manuale, non ho mai fatto a botte, perchè non ne sono capace. Sono solare, sono uggiosa, analogicamente sono come il clima Londinese. Sono, ma non troppo, niente di spettacolare. Quasi noiosa.

Invece no.

Secondo un mio ex-coinquilino, posso essere definita una ragazza alquanto complicata (cosa che avevo imparato ad accettare da adolescente, ma non sapevo trapelasse con i miei rapporti interpersonali) ed inscrutabile, misteriosa e sono quasi equo comparabile “ai sciamani che sanno i segreti della vita ma non te lo dicono e quindi ti dicono altre cose usando metafore che possibilmente non c’entrano un cazzo col quesito posto“.

C’avete capito qualcosa? No? Manco io e mi piace!

Una mia cara amica invece dice che dovrei “provarmi”, cioè uscire dal mio corpo, frequentare e parlare con me stessa e mi adorerei come mi adorano loro. Lei è tenera e credo sia solo una carineria o forse no, in ogni caso, ciò mi ha solo fatto riflettere sulla percezione che abbiamo di noi stessi ovvero che il più delle volte è quasi sempre sbagliata.

E’ come quella bellissima pubblicita’ della Dove…ahhh, non ve lo sto neanche a spiegare (cercate invece: “Dove Real Beauty Sketches”).

Mi ricordo che gia’ nell’eta’ adolescenziale, alla domanda “come ti descriveresti?” rispondevo sempre “Io non posso giudicarmi, dovresti chiederlo ad altre persone”. Io, allora, lo dicevo poichè lo consideravo una domanda scomoda, evitavo sempre di dire cose non veritiere (su mio conto – tirar acqua al mio mulino come si suol dire) non perchè avessi una percezione negativa di me, ma perchè credevo potessero essere smentita da persone che supponevo mi conoscessero realmente, ora sono più che certa che ero solo ingenua, nessuno ti conosce a pieno indi per cui, è cosa buona e giusta fidarsi ed imparare ad essere autocritici, essere aperti a critici e non snobbare le analisi date dai bambini (e altri aggiungevano, dagli ubriachi).

Io, alla domanda “Come Ti Descriveresti?non saprei minimamente rispondere qualche cazzata ora saprei dire, essere adulti comporta un sacco di responsabilità da vari fronti e a me ha sempre spaventato per esempio. Si tratta di andare alla ricerca del proprio IO è un viaggio lungo e tortuoso perché oltre a trovarla bisogna accontentarsi ed adattarsi. E non tutti sono pronti per guardarsi allo specchio effettivamente.

Purtroppo, io non sono tutti e finalmente ho imparato, a malincuore, ad essere pronta.

 

Color Me Badd – I Wanna Sex You Up [1991]

 

Lemar – Tick Tock [2006]

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l. Lust in the Future

I’m not used to not being looked at in a condescending way.

It’s been long my elder sister and I got away from our abitual, respective routines. Scrap that, we’d never done that. So when Ryanair gave us the right offer at the appropriate time, we hopped on it, like bees in a honey pot.

The country was Eindhoven – the Netherlands, beautiful, beautiful place. Clean as phuck too, great buildings and cordial people, food wasn’t that good though. Everyone spoke English or at least, tried to make our stay bearable by making sure the language barrier wasn’t going to be a deal breaker. Even though I’m starting to get into the dutch language myself, I do like knowing when I am being told off.

And that moment never came.

I’ve lived in Italy for 15 years already and when you are an “outsider” you just know when you are being looked at like you don’t belong there or  you are being considered “less than”. I’ve dealt with so much covert racism that I was simple waiting for that moment to hit me, in the cold streets of Eindhoven, with a loud ass luggage behind me disrupting the quiet of that afternoon.

It never came.

I’m not trying to sugar coat the Dutch – neither do I think it’s a safe haven either, I mean racism is real and it’s everywhere, the various shades of peoples’ skin will always be an issue, everywhere, anywhere, all the time – yes, even in African countries.

Still, it is a welcome feeling to be treated for who one really is when in a foreign country – tourists – not really black tourists per se, just tourists with very peculiar and coloured hairstyles. Tourists, who were undeniably excited when the train announcer said: “Next Stop, Amsterdam CS.

It felt good to be treated like everyone else, not be fetishized, at least the illusion felt great. Felt fucking amazing to pass unnoticed too, in some way, not because we were black Ugh these niggers are probably here to steal something, let me call my neighbour to hide the valuables but because we were just in a nice country to feed our eyes and hearts on what went on when we were locked away with the monotony we’ve made our lives.

It was nice to watch so many mixed couples walk hand in hand and no sad, judgemental older (wo)man raising his/her brows in dismay and horror OMG! The white race won’t resist much longer if this sin against my ancestors continues, gotta remember to call my sister to tell her son not to bring any rice cake home – after my kebab, I love kebabs in sight.

The worst kind of racism, for me, had always been the covert kind of racism “It’s all in your head L. – It’s just ignorance, not real racism – You are one of the good ones, but the others, I’d kill”.

My heart is full with gratitude for each day I pass on Earth, you know? Everything, everyone, has been a gradual process to making me who I am today, every experience, every lesson, every racial slur and every “you are a beautiful black woman” too.

This trip is simply a metaphor I’d cherish and keep trying to decode in its simple yet awespiring intricacies. I didn’t know just how much covert racism had made it feel normal for me to feel unwanted or inappropriate, right from some years shy of teenagehood. Do not get me wrong, Italy is great – the food is greater, made good friends and questionable ones have been kicked to the curb, yet, I just wasn’t used to this, It was a breathe of fresh air. Might be hard to understand if you can’t relate but knowing something as good and as simple as “opportunity to prove one’s self before undergoing unintelligible skin color scrutiny” happens to people of color, daily – every and anywhere, outside my comfort zone is just beautiful, makes me feel at peace – at home, once again and I’m glad I was priviledged enough to know just how good that feels, I’d truly forgotten.

Welcome to Amsterdam, have fun. I hope you enjoy it” said the guy seated close to me on the train once we got to our destination.

 

Fela Anikulapo-Kuti : “Trouble Sleep, Yanga Go Wake Am.” [1979]

 

Lindsey: “Trouble sleep, yanga go wake am – Cover” [Brown – The EP]

 

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h. Heart Noir

You never fully know yourself ’till someone else points just how much you’ve morphed into the person you’ve always vowed never to become.

Frustration is the word.

It’s frustrating because I’ve always thought I was a people’s person, I wouldn’t shy away from new people, I’d exchange vibes with them and we’ll go occupy some fancy castle where we’ld all live together happily ever after.

But I remember that since I’d started living alone, away from my comfort zone, from the faces I’m familiar with and the places I’m used to, I simply realized I didn’t work that way. And that’s ok, I guess? The less people I saw, the more at ease I seemed to become, I’d rather eat alone in my room than in the kitchen with whomever was around me and before I warm up to people, it would take months or it would be just too late. I felt I’d been fed lies all my life, by the people who had gotten to know me, by people who had quickly warmed up to me even though I was just all round weird and sometimes socially rude and awkward person. I know the whole Universe isn’t supposed to love you at once, I mean, it’s not really about seeking validation – unless you are Nutella and not everyone likes Nutella or has eaten Nutella, but I digress.

Brownstone – If you love me

My head would spin and hurt as tears swole and roll down my eyes when a loved one would make me see through his eyes, what I am and who I had unconsciously become. You know when the adults of your life do you wrong and you scream, inwardly, and pray hard, on how you wouldn’t want to be like them…then..

…then ta”thefuck”da!

I guess, what I’m saying is, having ones identity is of absolute importance to me, so when we end up being shells or caricatures of other people, it pisses me off. Sorry, this whole thing makes sense in my head, I’m still not good at writing or with words either.

I’m not trying to wallow in self pity, because well, I know I’m not a robot and I know that falling and failing just makes you a 100% 2.0 bot that’s more functional the problem is when Life happens and since she has some balls on her and she won’t waste time in telling you that the castle you built up in your head was nothing but a mere illusion and that before you get to being even a half of the version you need to be, you will have to bury yourself dead deep into a quicksand, survive, come out well and alive before you can become a better than who you’ve thrived to potentially want to be.

Sort of what happens with artists, their music and the originals, you know. Suck or not.

Tory Lanez – Say It

 

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c. Clustercuss

Few days to the end of 2016 and I had to be bed ridden with the worse fever of all times, “afterall It’s 2016” I thought “of course it had to be ended with a fever”.

When I was younger, I got ill fast, easy and almost at all times. I had them all, the allergies, the poxes and what nots, some thought I wouldn’t make it, God said otherwise. Growing up, I was finally cut some slack, I’d simply just kick back and watch as other kids got sick and shots too.  “Must be nice” I thought “I can’t relate, soz cuz”. Kids would look at me, jealousy and awe behind their innocent yet inquisitive eyes and they’d ask me “Why are you not getting these too?” I’d reply, as cockily ever possible “I done did it already, chile, I done did it.”

On the 2nd day of 2017, I took my L – threw it to the curb and bounced back. Ain’t about to take off the year in bed.

To start my new year, I’d love to kick it all the way back with a track I’m still not sure about, even after all these years, simply put, in Nigeria I never really knew if I liked it and I didn’t know what the dealie was with its artist.

 

Dr. Alban‘s Halleluyah Day.

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