#decolonizeyourmind

They sold you a lie. The colonial story was always the same: "We found them naked. We civilized them."

But how is it that Africans have been weaving, stitching, dyeing, and adorning themselves in intricate traditional clothing for centuries—long before any European set foot on the continent?

Kente. Dashiki. Ankara. Adire. Bogolan. These weren't accidents. They were civilizations.

The lie wasn't about fabric. It was about humanity. They needed you to believe we were "uncivilized" so they could justify the taking.

Don't fall for it. We were never naked. We were never lost. We were never waiting to be saved.

To those of you who claim the Transatlantic Slave Trade never happened—you are not enlightened, you are enslaved. Not by chains of iron, but by delusion, confusion, and ego.

You have become enemies of truth. You reject the cries of our stolen ancestors and mock their suffering to entertain your own fantasies. That’s not consciousness—it’s betrayal. It is historical treason dressed up as pride.

Marcus Garvey told us: “A race without authority and power is a race without respect.” But how can you claim authority when you deny the very wound that still bleeds through the soul of our people?

The Transatlantic Slave Trade was not a myth. It was a global system of brutality, greed, and dehumanization. Millions of Africans were captured, sold, and scattered across the world like property. But they were never just victims—they resisted. In the belly of slave ships, in the fields, in rebellion, in song, in spirit—they fought.

To deny that history is to spit in the face of every man, woman, and child who endured the Maafa. You are not reclaiming dignity—you are erasing sacrifice.

You speak of strength, yet you cower from truth. You speak of pride, yet you dishonour the foundation it’s built on. You are not freeing our people—you are leading them deeper into confusion.

Garvey believed in the redemption of Africa through knowledge, unity, and action—not through fantasy and denial. You want to rewrite the story to make yourself feel superior, but true elevation comes from confronting pain, not avoiding it.

You are not revolutionaries. You are distractions. You are not honouring our ancestors—you are embarrassing them.

We survived one of the greatest crimes in human history and still rise. That is our legacy. That is our strength. We must teach it, defend it, and pass it on—not erase it.

big_thick_energy_

In 2024, stay fat. Let’s stop trying to change ourselves and dig deeper to change the world. Let’s not spend another penny on industries that profit from disempowerment, trying to colonize our minds with the lie that we are not good enough as we are. That our differences aren’t our strengths. That change isn’t part of life. That we have to earn our value. All that nonsense keeps us busy and quiet.

In 2024 let’s spend our precious time and energy pursuing joy, strengthening connections, making art, laughing until we cry, caring for each other, trying wild ideas, eating nachos, falling in love, stretching our minds, dancing, and playing. Let’s equip ourselves to be better activists, each in our own way. Let’s bring our unique gifts to the table. Let’s figure out what bullshit to let go of so we can rest more. So that we have energy to connect. So we can imagine better ways of doing things.

When I say “stay fat” I mean it. Stay everything that you are. Be everything that you’ve been told to change about yourself. Do what you desire in the body you have now. Wear your differences as a badge of pride- of your refusal to buy what they’re selling.

It’s easier said than done, for some more than others. But you are lovable fat. You are lovable skinny, short, tall, Brown, Black, Queer, weird, Disabled.

Your dimples and scars, your cellulite and rolls are lovable - and anyone who tells you differently is struggling to understand that they are lovable, too.

We don’t have time to waste fighting against ourselves. We have bigger things to fight. The path out of the dumpster fire of capitalism and towards collective liberation will not be found while we’re cutting carbs or counting calories.

We are the daughters of the dust and the children of the yam. We are a people who can put the power of High John into a peach pit; a people who could strike dead a master with intention and a glare. The asé behind the working matters far more than the material thing you use to work it.