21st Century Diplomacy
Because we are all fragile like roses,
Today, we find love in clubs, between two titles of house,
And since Mickey has no balls, Minnie is Amy Winehouse.
Minnie became a call-girl in order to attract attention.
In my 21st Century, men changed roles,
Going through diets while women are playing cowboys as he is getting a manicure.
So Minnie is feeling like a rebel, and to take her place, she is covering herself in Remmel; she is hunting instead of practicing chastity.
In my 21st century, virginity is another sin, a story where purity is killed by ignorance, too fast, too soon, too late; dancing in the arms of the devil feeling so calm and so warm.
May 25th 2015, I met a man…
Let me add something else. In my 21st century, love is taken for granted. There is no letters, no little words in mailboxes. Instead, after a game on PSP, come let’s meet by GPS..
So yeah,on May 25th 2015, I met a man. His GPS was probably too big, because it was also riding his car.
I was impressed.
He used to call me black butterfly…
That was maybe because he thought in my country, Africa, our lions did not develop that accurate sense of orientation.
(Oh! Lighten up! Maybe after reading this, you might want to sponsor the poor children that live in it).
We entered his place, he offered me whiskey hoping it would get me drunk enough…
Thinking of it, I do not know why I did so; well, cause deep down, I knew I just got myself in trouble…
The 90s kid inside me was telling me to run, but the 21st century lady I’ve become was telling me to drink up, that it would “make the seduction part less repugnant”.
I decided to listen to the 90s kid…
You know, in my 21st century world, women are taught to be silent… Silent about their thoughts, silent about their dreams, silent about… Silent about being raped… Even from the friendly stranger they met a month before he thought he was untitled to their canvas.
Perhaps I should have worn looser pants? Perhaps another sweater? Or maybe, I should have held my bible stronger!?
OH GOD! Your children are crying for help, our mothers, sisters, aunts, cousins are looking for you, wounded from the scars many soldiers inflict them back home pretending to save the country.
OH GOD! I am sorry…
In my 21st century, a “no” isn’t too politically correct , “Leave me the hell alone” too rude;
Oh wait! “Maybe”. Yes, “maybe” is the perfect word.
“Maybe” I will take another,
“Maybe” we are meant to be,
“Maybe” it will work out,
NO, NO, NO don’t, it isn’t, and it won’t.
In the 21st century, a black butterfly left her cocoon with a scar that will always remind her how she now belongs.
Belongs in a world where lying is the new truth, loyalty a taboo, and love a tattoo.
But, hey! I am just another black victim from a big country called Africa, with capital 54 countries, population 1.216 billion.
Nooo… I am not a victim, scratch that.
I am victorious.
A victorious black butterfly created and made imperfectly perfect by a victorious God. For it is written, “Whoever the son sets free is free indeed” (John 8:36).
21st Century Diplomacy.