A Blog About Nothing

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By Jacky Mahlangu

Perspective

#5 | 31 Poems for August 

You don’t know who to run to, who to run from or if you should be running at all.

You don’t seem like your usual self, is there anyone that I could call? 

Love, the media is not a true standard of beauty. I wish you would stop measuring yourself according to their scale. 

You’re still beautiful, it’s just that their perspective has changed. You’re ashamed of the bitter woman you almost became. 

They taught you how to succumb to the pain and shame. They taught you how to hate every bit of yourself. Made you believe that you’d look and feel better if you conformed to the absurd standards of someone else. 

They should’ve taught you that the presence of another woman’s beauty is not the absence of your own. Embrace your crooked smile and all your perfect imperfections. Stop seeking validation and start loving yourself unconditionally. 

Never let the world turn your starry sky into a ceiling. Wear your crown proudly and embrace the queen that you are. In a sky full of constellations, you’ll always be someone’s favourite star. 

You are ashamed of the bitter woman you almost became. They taught you how to succumb to the pain and shame. 

You are still beautiful, it’s just that their perspective has changed. No matter what the media says you will always remain beautiful to me.Always.

“Self-love angers people who hate themselves and she understood that at length.” 

By Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say, It’s in the reach of my arms, The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.

I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees. I say, It’s the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet. I’m a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman, That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered What they see in me. They try so much But they can’t touch My inner mystery. When I try to show them, They say they still can’t see. I say, It’s in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style. I’m a woman Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, That’s me.