Silently I tread, smiling I march.
I cannot point fingers at anyone, so I sit still because let’s face, it takes a special deftness to be or feel something that you are not. How can you convey a state of being to someone?
As human beings, we act and behave differently. We are not the same. We don’t have the same DNA. We are individuals.
Perception does not always denote being, so I smile. They don’t get it. So, I keep going. And when my African roots unintentionally manifests itself, verbally or through dancing, many react and do a double take, as it unhurriedly becomes apparent to them… yet bewildered and bashful, in a quite whisper they ask, “are you white?” Grinning, I move on.
I know who I am. Half of me belongs to the world and the other half, to me. I am me. I am my own creation, a blend of color, life and dreams. I am white. I am african. I am million other things the word cannot define. I am the “whisper” that defines us. I am the hip-vibrating hips when I hear the drums playing. I am the spice I grew up eating. I am the color of my flags. I am a person. I am me.
Happy African Women’s Day my beautiful country women. You are every race and hearts in this one continent of ours, Africa.
P.S. My niece Marta wrote this beautiful piece in portuguese, she speaks and writes perfect english, on her Facebook page in observance of African Women’s Day today, I love it so much that I decided to translate it and share it with you.