Rahwa's Thoughts

Mind (s)platter | I'm a grown ass kid


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When I was younger I’d throw my phone whenever I got really mad

Smashed my nokia against concrete

Cracked my razr on brick

Skipped my sidekick across cobblestone

No phone or surface was safe from my wrath

Something about the smack of contact

Was oddly soothing to me

As I got older I got more materialistic

A phone actually meant somethin now

So I moved on to tossing people

Unlike phones,

When people hit the ground

They don’t bounce back



Editing is exhausting – it’s the rewriting, the rethinking, blah, blah. Sometimes I just want to write how I feel, in real time. And not give a fuck about the reach of the reader or even if there’s an audience. So, I’m doing just that. There’s so much freedom in expressing yourself in real time – the first time without all the added fluff and bullshit.

Today, I took out my nipple piercings and my belly button piercings. To most, it’ll seem like a non-event. But for whatever reason, it made me quite emotional. I realized I sort of did it for attention – to be viewed as edgy, or a modern woman, to claim my body first and its display. I wanted to feel desired, unique, in control. It’s weird how symbolic I made a material item and pinch of the skin that took seconds.

My belly button piercing I got when I was 16. I was in and out of my Mamaiay’s custody at the time and trying to figure out the emancipated minor system. Long story short, it’s fucked. I never had a say in where I went or stayed. My belly button piercing was the only way I knew how to take back control of my body and feel a bit rebellious. I did it myself.

My nipple piercings I got in March before my 29th birthday, exactly one year after I was sexually assaulted. It took me weeks of physical therapy to retrain my pelvic floor before I could use the bathroom comfortably again. I was an emotional mess this month, my counselor said it’s because our bodies keep score. She said our bodies sense anniversaries of traumatic events and relives them. Ornating my body helped me feel like it was more mine. From the inside out I was working out daily with my trainer to become stronger. From the outside in I felt sexy and powerful when my nipple rings would poke through my shirts when I didn’t wear a bra. Something about a nipple ring makes men pause. I required thought.

I’m reading this book right now called “The Untethered Soul” and there’s a chapter that talks about thorns and how we as humans deal with pain. Instead of taking out the thorn, which is our source of pain, we just implement guard rails that reduce the risk of aggitating the thorn and reactiving the pain. We build better and better protective tools, we trick ourselves into thinking the pain is no longer there. I think that’s what I did, I tried to brush the pain aside with pretty little gems sewn into my flesh. Cheap temporary jewerly, for a cheap temporary solution.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt like my body was mine – I always felt friction and suspectible to unwanted dialogue, critique, or touch from society, family, lovers, church, friends. A constant tug and pull of do I want to be invisible or do I reclaim my body by intentionally being seen?

My body

My body




If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.

William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

Baby you got to wipe your lenses
I ain’t talkin’ bout just them glasses neither
Got all this soot talkin’ bout you can’t see clear
Can’t see it for what it is, just what you think
Walkin’ round like folks out here tryna get you
Like they aint got they own battles they losin’
See the thing about the world baby
It’s crueler than you could ever conceive
And kinder than you could ever imagine
Make sure you wipe ‘em lenses real good baby
Rub the glass down to its bone
You gonn’ see your reflection
Realize what you see ain’t the world
No that ain’t the world baby
That’s just



The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle’s flame. The first one went closer and said: I know about love. The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said: I know how love’s fire can burn. The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.  He alone knows what true love is.


We bask at the potency of our words

How we make language and lovers bend

That we could sharpen knives with our tongues

We draw blood

To compare whose blade eats the most flesh

I do not want a love

Masked as manipulation

I do not want a love

Constructed as a game

The ember in your snarl

The bark in my belly

You say you’re still healing

I too am damaged

I too mistake spouts for clippers

I am cloaked with crater-wedged scars



When I’m good, I’m very good, but when I’m bad, I’m better.

Mae West

One fuck

Two fucks

Three fucks


How many fucks til they call you a whore?

Five fucks

Six fucks

Seven fucks


Pedestal pussy, use it as bait!

Nine fucks


Deny all the men.



i want you to know

this waz an experiment

to see how selifsh i cd be

if i wd really carry on to snare a possible lover

if i waz capable of debasin my self for the love of another

if i cd stand not being wanted

when i wanted to be wanted

& i cannot


with no further assistance & no guidance from you

i am endin this affair

this note is attached to a plant

i’ve been waterin since the day i met you

you may water it

yr damn self

Ntozake Shange

My Dearest Lawrence,

I Love You…

In this life, and however many more exist thereafter.

I don’t understand you…us, nor do I seek to.

I’ve been limited by intellect and fallacies of who we are and what the future holds.

Perhaps, life is best experienced centering emotion and the moment

– The pulse of our beings –

I want to feel. Everything.

Let’s be fools / that love / that live

Meet me in Paris.




I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.

Edgar Allan Poe

The older I get, the more I understand the allure of drugs and can appreciate its ubiquity.

The hybrid desire to feel nothing | something.

The control to choose what to feel.

Training Camp


You gotta be able to know what to do with hips when you get them. I say making it up as I go. You gotta know how to walk with hips, practice you know—like if half of you wanted to go one way and the other half the other.

Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street.
  1. Do not be too cold, it will be viewed as an insult. They will come.
  2. Do not be too warm, it will be viewed as an invite. They will come.
  3. Do not make eye contact, even if you feel the burn of their gaze.
  4. If they call out to you, walk faster. Do not turn around. Do not respond. Act like you did not hear a thing.
  5. Walk only on busy streets, even if the back roads save time.
  6. On the bus, sit towards the front. No window seats, only the aisle. Always remain visible to the driver.
  7. Do not sit criss-cross applesauce or with your knees spread apart. Lock your legs so tight a coin has no gap to slip through.
  8. Do not accept any food, drinks, or gifts.
  9. Do not hug, kiss, or sit on anyone’s lap.
  10. Do not be alone anywhere with any boy, man, or adult.
  11. Do not wear anything that is bright, tight, or shows skin. No tank tops, shorts, skirts, fitted shirts or jeans. Only baggy pants, loose and layered shirts. Do not forget a cardigan that kisses your ankles.
  12. Do not pay mind to anyone’s comments about your body, and how you look.
  13. If anyone puts a finger on you, hit them with five. Then run and hide.
  14. If anyone touches you, tell me. I’ll handle it.

Mamaiay, I am only 10 years old. Why are you telling me this?

Rahweet gualay, because you do not look like the other girls. This is how you become invisible.