I don’t like loud noises. Loud noises of any kind make it difficult for them to get through to me. This is why I don’t listen to music. I don’t like music because it drowns out what they’re trying to say. Music fights them. Superimposes what they want me to listen to over what I am meant to hear.Read More
She loved death, death of any kind. There was an unchanging gray of grief over people when they lost someone they loved, when they felt a bit of their lifeform had been taken. And in as much as people grieved in their own way, there was a certainty to the pain; it was a blinking red light in the gray held up by a mountain of regret and sadness on their tongues when memories visited, the fear of where they’d end up, the guilt of forgetting the shape and texture of their faces…Read More
i hope writing in english
this poem about how we allow
those wretched yt people
to take everything from usRead More
Essah Cozett is a poet and a Doctoral Caribbean Literature and Languages student at the University of Puerto Rico, Rio Piedras campus. She is a first-generation Liberian-American, born and raised in Georgia. Her poetry explores women’s empowerment, identity, and spirituality through African influences.Read More
Touch your belly.
Imagine it stretched non-stop for 36 weeks,
Simply because it’s supposed to.Read More
“One wonders if this influx of women in churches does not give rise to potential abuse of power within the church.” In this fascinating article, Ilet Chirimangombe writes about how religion in Africa is built against women.Read More
The apartment the agent found Lami in was a sprawling three bedroom flat, located in the heart of Tanke. It had a balcony and the rooms had high ceilings and the floors were tiled.Read More
In A Stigma Shrouded Syndrome, Ilet Chirimangombe talks about the HIV epidemic in Zimbabwe and how a much needed discourse would go a long way into battling it.Read More
TEAW founder, Anwulika Ngozi Okonjo talks about her personal growth in the past year and her hopes for herself and TEAW in the coming years.Read More
Miriam was the whore of the class. Ore told Temitayo that, five years ago when they were in their first year.Read More
The next time Baba tells you
the bride price is not to buy
but to show appreciation for her,
tell him you do not pay thirty naira
for a new pen every Monday morning
to show appreciation for it
The headlights from an incoming car blind me for a second before I adjust my own headlights. My hands are clammy as I grip the steering wheel, despite the coolness of tonight; I’m sweating through the thin blouse I’m wearing. My heartbeat is back to its normal rhythm and my focus is back.Read More
I am number thirty-seven. I hear my number being called from the loudspeakers, more like a dull buzz than actual words, and I sit. The girls on either side of me have been seated for a while, though I don't focus on them enough to hear their numbers.Read More
“Hi, I’m Shiela, I am an alcoholic.”
Sheila Goliati uses her brief dependency on alcohol to illustrate the ways African parents contribute to the very problems they demonize.Read More
at birth your father did not want you because you did not come with a penis
but the doctor was right behind him so he couldn’t flee
or strangle your mother to death
so you lived.
Have you ever felt like ending your life? Slitting your wrists and dying relatively painlessly as the blood seeps through your cut-open veins into a tub full of warm water.
If you have, then we’re kindred spirits of the worst kind. Unified in the desire to die.