I have written about you before.
Being Adam, you were my first. Perhaps that is the reason you had a longstanding hold over me. One that had me allocating time to you which belonged to others. Time waiting for you in rented rooms plied with alcohol and endless selfies. But, we should start at the beginning shouldn't we. Valentine's day 2016 creeped up on me and I had a boyfriend for the first time in history. I was perplexed that I had a man. At the same time I could feel the paper thin connection that we had. I replayed the first time that I spent at your place where we dry humped for what seemed like hours on end. The whole time other things were acing through my head. That right there, that should have been the first sign. The first red flag. It wasn't that I was having second thought about the situation at hand. Rather, it seemed that remembering where I left the book I was presently reading was more important than a living person on top of me. And yet here I was. Car parked in your driveway on Valentines weekend with my parents assuming I was spending the night at a friend's. I had bought you a material gift and presented myself to you in a way that I had yet to do with another man. The desperation you harboured did not leave much room for my enjoyment of the moment. I convinced myself that this was a mandatory part of having sex for the first time. It wasn't. It isn't. With every sexual encounter we had it became more evident that we were only doing the dance in order for you to prove your dominance and sexual prowess that you would ultimately brag about. There were no romantic whispers in the dark asking if I was comfortable or if I was okay. No, for all the experience you had proclaimed that you held, I felt like I had the misfortune of being a living, breathing sex toy merely created for your benefit. Dry as a bone. That is all I could remember when thinking about our sex life. And so years later when you called and asked if I wanted to give it another shot, the sex and not the relationship, I agreed. Bestie threw her toys and made sure I was aware of the disapproval. At this point though you and I had both been with other people and I was certain that the sex would be better. In reality I just wanted to make sure that I was not lying to myself about not enjoying you. I spent two evenings in a hotel room desperately trying to convince myself that I could fix it. Fix this. Fix that. Because I hadn't been committed to anyone since you. Perhaps if we could get past this, we could get past other things... Alas, it came to an end and we parted ways for the second time. For the last time.
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Dear Christian Boy,
I’m not dating your type anymore. In fact, if I had it my way you wouldn't even come within 10 meters of me. We won’t sit down in church together and should you purposely come and sit down next to me in a service I will take my things and even more purposefully move away from you. Because I know where this leads and I am not about to date another Christian boy. You see, the problem with you, Christian boy, is you say that you are a Christian boy but I don’t really think that you know what it entails. You raise your hands in praise during worship but all that does is block my view of the words on the screen. You come to church because that’s is where all the ‘good girls’ are. The girls who ‘shouldn’t have a high body count’, ‘should be makoti material’, ‘should be submissive’. You have mastered the art of pretending to care about a saviour who actually gives a damn about your salvation. Some of your types are able to lead a cell group and others can even stand up in front of church and lead in worship while lacking any form of intimacy with the God you profess to be led by. It isn’t that difficult to regurgitate a Passion for Christ Movement monologue and get a response. Your spiritual life isn’t merely going through a desert place but in fact there is no personal relationship to speak about. Gathering your fire for your Creator solely from the presence of others makes it difficult to replicate when you are in the small still place of your inner room. Your mere presence drains me. Each and every single time. Speaking from experience of watching a person I loved being able to lead an auditorium filled with people into the presence of the Lord but be unable to actively pray for me when I needed him to. His words would basically go, “I know that your relationship with Christ is solid so why do I need to pray for you?” , “Why do you insist on sending me Bible verses, I have an app on my phone.” The point of me wanting us to pray together and to encourage each other in Christ was so that I could intimately understand your relationship with the Almighty before we could get intimate in other ways with each other. I won’t date you, Christian boy, because I know that my biggest flaw is being easily intoxicated by love and wanting to stay that way regardless of the price I have to pay. So in future I am staying away from any variation of you. In future I will date a Christ like man who does not put on a show with all the fixings that we have come to expect. Because being Christ like is difficult. A daily commitment that doesn’t only get ignited in a building on the weekend but can be set ablaze in the confines of your morning commute to work in the back seat of a taxi. For the sake of peace in 2017 I would respectfully ask you, Christian boy, to leave me alone and let me sit by myself in church. Yours in Christ Huli So with all of the below posts said and done here is something to read which gave me some clarity " Twenty is for you. It's for growth. It's for the pursuit for tomorrow that is better than today. It's for options. It's for passion and knowledge and enjoyment. It's not for compromise. It's not a time to say, ' this is the guy I gotta make it with because this is the guy that I'm with and no matter what compromises, no matter what I don't like , no matter what he does, I have to put up with him.' Twenties is for firing dudes when they don't act right. Twenties is for figuring out what you like in certain men. It's for finding out what kind of different men are out there; which ones you want to keep which ones you want to discard. It's not for picking up other peoples clothes, it's not for sticking it out when you're not enjoying it anymore. Twenties is for opportunity to move on; upward, forward. Get a large life so even if a dude doesn't end up in it, you still enjoy it. Twenties is for creating all that potential and not just compromising your way into a corner of a closet somewhere wondering what the hell happened? You don't have any children, you're beautiful! Don't look for time off to go and spend time with him, go spend it on books or whatever..." Watch the original here - https://youtu.be/iw7-vfXQJ20 And in other news, I've taken up going on all the dates that I had wanted us to have because I am not missing out on these opportunities merely because a guy doesn't see the value in them. To follow that you can find me on Instagram - @hulisanik with the #HowHuliGotHerHeartBack Nine months ago I was single.
I was in a good place spiritually, mentally and although I wasn’t going to gym as often as I had wanted to I was still going at least twice a week. I was in a good space. Eight months ago I was still single. Single but more ready to mingle than I had ever been. Seven months ago I met a guy. On paper we were perfect. He is a lead singer at an international church and I am a Sunday School teacher at my local church. We would chat most of the day and most of the night. A few Skype sessions here and there. We agreed on almost everything that was important to me. Basic principles which I thought were essential. 6 months ago 26 December 2016. We had our first date. Now, not only had I told this guy (Adam – let’s call him Adam for the sake of not repeating the word guy). Now, not only had I told Adam that I was new to the dating game but for purposes of full disclosure I had told him that I had never been on a first date, I had never had my first kiss and that the only intimacy that I had experienced with a guy that I liked was holding his hand as he walked me home from a night where we gave out soup to the homeless in our area. This first date was a big deal to me. It went perfectly. The most perfect of gentlemen. We did the first date thing, watched a movie and had lunch afterwards. He pulled out my chair, he walked me to my car and we kissed. 5 months ago I love you was a constant thing coming from your end. I wasn’t ready to say those words yet. 5 months ago I had to convince you. Long distance relationships are a bit of a challenge. You made it even more so when you would continuously remind me not to cheat. I would roll my eyes and brush it off. I mean seriously? Me? Cheat? Who would I have cheated on with? I’ve waited 25 years to call somebody my boyfriend, I wasn’t even tempted to talk to new men. 5 months ago The first few red flag went up. We were making out on the couch and we stopped because I wasn’t planning on having sex with you. Later on that day before I left you said to me that in reality you stopped because you were a good person. That if you really had wanted to we would have ended up having sex. You proceeded to question me about my weight. As if I wasn’t fat the first time that we met. I had also told you that I was not into weaves and that my skin acted up more often than not. You questioned all of that. You would hint for me to look at girls with makeup, snatched waists would turn your head as we walked in public and you let go of my hand when we saw someone that you knew while we were out. 4 months ago I needed a break. Your constant reminders of how I should behave were becoming a problem. I started to see you falling apart at the seams. Almost everything that you told me hadn’t come into fruition. The reality started to set in that I was really a feminist and that I spoke my mind on issues of race. Although you had said that there were things you were okay with your actions spoke a different story. As if I should just be the pretty girlfriend who kept quiet. 4 months ago We had been dating for 3 months and I felt like it was time that I at least posted your picture on Social Media. Mind you, we still weren’t friends on Facebook and you never responded to my tags when I saw something funny on Instagram. You had somehow convinced me that the best thing for our relationship would be not to be public. In some aspects I agreed. You couldn’t agree with me though when I told you that there was a difference between being a social media couple and acknowledging your relationship on social media. In any case, I let it go and never posted our lovely pictures. 3 months ago I asked you if you were excited for church. You sent me a voice note that your musical director had sent you. In the note he was super pumped to see you that night and couldn’t wait to catch up with you. It was sweet. What you may have forgotten was that in the same voice note he spoke about a girl from your church who was apparently eyeing you out and commenting about how cute you were. Red flag. How was it possible that you, Adam, spent soooooo much time with your church family and you had never once told them that you were in a relationship? So much so that they were trying to hook you up with girls at church. We fought. The words that you used centred around the fact that you knew many beautiful women who were just as awesome, just as smart and just as witty as I was but you had chosen me. That was the first time that you used the word beautiful and it wasn’t even in relation to me. To you I was just pretty, but other girls were beautiful. 3 months ago I took a break from you. 3 months ago We were back at it. I asked you to do the love languages test because perhaps if I loved you in a manner which you understood then you would understand that I wasn’t playing around. I had never envisaged dating a person only to break up with them soon afterwards. I was determined to make this work. 3 months ago I was waiting outside church with your brothers when I saw you wave at her. Now it may seem petty but I saw it. The light in her eyes that you had noticed her and the small smile that you usually reserved for me. I’ve been in the church long enough to know that if you are in any sort of leadership you automatically become holy grail when women look at you. As women we see the potential of a husband who will lead us. The look that she was giving you was not a look of a female who knew that you had a girlfriend standing 100 meters away. 2 months ago It had been over a month since the last time you said that you loved me. I said it to you today and you sent back a heart. 2 months ago I remembered today how you had insisted that we watch the movie “War Room” together. As if you knew you were an asshole and that would give me hope that perhaps if I prayed you would change. You mentioned that you didn’t care that I sent you scripture verses from my daily readings. Adam, you grouped me in a category with some other girl who sends you daily scripture whom you never spoke to. Me, your girlfriend. When I explained that the reason that I was sending you the scripture was so that I could hear what your thought were on it. Ha! Your response was that I was aware you were a Christian and that proving it by sending scripture wasn’t going to change things. Which reminded me of how in the beginning you had told me that you were into reading your bible but I had never seen you open it once in my presence. Continue to part 2 below... 2 months ago I realised how much of a shitty situation this was. How had we gone from semi- awesomeness to this. This where I felt like I needed to earn any attention that you would eventually give to me. How did you expect me to survive from one moment of bliss to another moment of bliss when they were in fact so far apart? 1 month ago I came to visit you. People were painting. I was confused as to why and that’s when you told me that you were in fact moving out that week. How is it possible that your girlfriend is the last person you told about this. Especially when I had already made plans to visit you again the next week. 1 month ago The first time we actually cuddled. We had been dating for 5 months and we had never cuddled. How weird was that? I drove home that weekend and at the provincial line that separates Gauteng and North West I began crying. How had I wasted so much time trying to convince a grown ass man that I was worthy? 1 month ago I woke up in tears. Fuck it I said. I’m done with this. I didn’t even think that you deserved a face to face at this point. I went ahead and sent you a message. “I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore. It’s not me. It’s you. Your personality and the way in which you conduct yourself in this relationship makes me feel worthless. Which is actually such a problem because only in recent years have I realised how frikking awesome I am. I’m not trying to go back to that place I was before I turned 22. When I treat you with the lack of interest and decency that you continuously treat me with you have the nerve to call me out and ask me why I am acting differently. As if I haven’t seen how you changed from you being 100% to you being 25% in this relationship. As much as I love you I’m just over trying to field the landmine that is loving you. Constantly censoring myself to fit into these parameters that you’ve set by your actions and your words to me. Worried that I am to feminist. I’m too pro-black. I’m too natural haired. I want to hate you so much because I gave you everything and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to try and get over your hurdles from past experiences. Constantly policing yourself into thinking that if you do certain things then your friends or brother won’t think that you are man enough. If you didn’t think that I was worth it in the beginning then I don’t understand why you insisted on me loving you. I see everything even when you think I don’t notice. I turned a blind eye because I was committed to making this work. I had always hoped that I wouldn’t date multiple men in my life because I just wanted to love truly an deeply once. You lie to me, you aren’t reliable, you are so narcissistic that you make every argument about you and how I have wronged you. Even when the situation demands that I am rightfully upset, somehow you turn it around and I end up apologizing. Fuck man, you made me break every single one of my rules. How do I even begin to pick myself u from the shit that you left me in? How are you okay with treating another human as if they aren’t worth your time or efforts? I can’t do this anymore. And sure, I am not the easiest person to love. I am difficult and demanding. I love attention from people that I consider to be in my inner circle. The list is probably endless with all of my faults but I know for sure that I love honestly and I’m loyal to the end. I’m pretty sure now that you never even loved me. You just though that I had low self-esteem and would be easy to convince. And I was easy to convince about everything, because I am a romantic and I believed in all the stuff that came with it. You said all the right words and did all the rights things in the beginning so how could I even try to resist? One day you’ll find a lady whom you treat like a queen because she’s your perfect type of awesome and you will love her so much that the thought of losing her would break your heart. She’s also the one whom you are going or want to open up to. Who you want to grow with in every single possible way and it will be so magical that you won’t even remember my name and that I sent you this." 1 month ago. You called and told me that I was right. That you, Adam, are an awful person. That I should give you a second chance. As I mentioned how my friends significant others treated them you told me not to make comparison. I agree. Comparison is the thief of joy. In this situation though I was comparing a healthy relationship that had open communication to a farce of a relationship speared by one person’s selfishness not to be single. You actually told me that you thought that our relationship was perfectly fine. That you really weren’t expecting this. That you never realised I was unhappy. 3 weeks ago I said that I was okay with seeing you for breakfast. We sat in silence in the middle of Neighbourgoods market. 15 minutes of silence as I had my mint flavoured shake. We left. Jessica saw me cry in the car before we went into the event that we had planned for the day. 2 weeks ago You told me that you never intentionally set out to hurt me, never. That it hurts you that I am hurting and especially because it was caused by you. You missed me. You are hurt that I think that you are a bad person and that you are just hoping for the best outcome. The fact that you could have used this opportunity to declare your undying love and commitment to me was lost in this moment. You only chose to say the bare minimum that you knew you could get away with. 2 weeks ago We started talking. We had actual conversations. You actually spoke words of substance. Something that we hadn’t done in a long time. 1 week ago You had a really bad week. You said that you didn’t want to talk about it over the phone so I left it. You said we’d talk about it when we saw each other which I had no plans of doing. Saturday. As we had lunch I hoped that you would open up. That you would finally speak to me. That did not happen. This is when I realised that it would never happen. You constantly speak words that you know I want to hear. You make promises of a better you. As if I should wait in pain as you work through your life. As if I should be okay with the fact that I’m only good enough to date if nobody knows. Sunday. Sunday would have been 6 months. Today. I’m done. Dear me,
Racial fetishism. Defined, the term ‘Racial fetishism’ involves fetishizing a person or culture belonging to a race or ethnic group that is not one’s own—therefore it involves racial/ ethnic stereotyping and objectifying those bodies who are stereotyped, and at times their cultural practices. In my opinion though I have come to see that in practice it is possible for those within a particular racial group to fetishize different tones within their own race. Do the hashtags TeamYellowBone and TeamDarkSkin ring a bell? In my effort to prove how progressive I have become and how accepting I am of dark models, actresses and Instagrammers have I actually regressed? Am I now in the position where I will only applaud black beauties because they have flawless skin, a ‘perfect figure’ and are able to wear their makeup well? Have I sexualised the idea (as we often do) that in order to be considered as beautiful EVEN THOUGH you are dark you first have to meet certain requirements? I mean if I have to be honest with myself when was the last time (if ever) I have liked a post where a dark lady had problem skin? What about if she were a plus plus size model? This is all pretty ironic because I am not light skinned, I have problem skin and I am plus plus size. Why am I reposting pictures of dark skinned celebrities and overlooking ‘Y’ next door who is just as beautiful? (Surprisingly this is similar to the natural hair movement where certain natural hair is more desirable than other textures within the community. THE PROBLEM IS THAT WHILE THE MEDIA ENCOURAGES US TO PRAISE DARK SKINNED BEAUTY WE HAVE BEEN TOLD WHO WITHIN THOSE RANKS CAN BE CELEBRATED AND WHO CANNOT. So being aware of the fact that I am fetishizing a very specific type of dark women I challenge myself to do better. Love, Me Dearest P.
Listen, I didn’t want to write this letter. Believe me, I really didn’t. However, circumstances have made me realise that you can no longer be left to your own devices. We share a common friend. Our said common friend posted a short vine where a group of women were twerking. As a person who cannot twerk but appreciates a good ass shaking I liked this video. During the day however you commented on this video that I had liked. Your exact words were, “yay feminism.” I was going to leave it at that BUT because that is not in my nature I responded to your comment and informed you that “we can do both.” What happened next was a shock to my system. So much so that I had to take a couple of minutes to breathe. I 'screenshot' your response and got different opinions from multiple sources. If you are reading this and don’t know what P said then let me tell you. He said, “Sure you can.” Now, of course you could have meant that we honestly can do both. You know, be a feminist and twerk at the same time. If that is the case then carry on with your day and ignore me. On the off chance that you didn’t mean it like that though, let me school you real quick. Women can do both. The idea that a (black) female can only be sophisticated or ratchet is ridiculous. They are NOT mutually exclusive. Your disapproving comments are ignorant and supremacist. How do you know that all those women in that video weren’t in fact cum laude students at their respective Ivy League Colleges? Just because you may be one dimensional and can only handle being in one box at a time does not mean the same is true for me (or any other person). Women can be sexual beings and role models at the same damn time and you don’t get to judge them just because you are a male. And to every other man out there – stop trying to hold my vagina hostage by telling me what I can and cannot do. Do better boo boo. Love Hulisani Dear Maidens Bursary Award (MBA),
I’m writing this to you in actual surprise. Surprise at what you may think? I’m surprised that you even exist. In fact I think I am more shocked and bewildered that in 2016 you are just being brought into this world. The reasoning behind your existence is that you are to be awarded as a prize to young girls who have made it to University but are virgins. What’s more these girls have to regularly prove the existence of their virginity in order to keep you. Now you see, this is a problem isn’t it? Apart from the fact that you have now set conditions on the bursary which cannot be set for a male (cough * gender equality * cough) there are other problems. For one there’s that little issue that you have assumed that if these girls stay virgins they will be free from contracting HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases. Sorry MBA, I am not sure who lied to you but that is not the case. You seem to forget that penetration of the vagina is not the only means to contract STD’s. Second, policing a females body. Isn’t that soooo 25 B.C? Even if the trend has not been broken since the beginning of time I seem to remember that the Constitution of South Africa (which is the highest law in the Republic) has that handy clause that calls upon all citizens to be treated with dignity. Is subjecting a female to regular virginity testing in order to fund her education really dignified? In fact, what makes this different from having a sugar daddy who expects sex in order to fund your education? Is this not exploitation in both cases? I’m not saying that these girls shouldn’t be given a right to access their education MBA. By all means please fund them. In fact even set a standard where they need to achieve a certain calibre of marks in order to keep their scholarship. The only problem I have is the fact that you, MBA, want to tie female success to their sex life. As if a person who owns a vagina cannot possibly use it for their own pleasure and still be able to focus on any other life goals. Or that a person who owns a vagina and uses it will automatically fall pregnant. It is now February 2016 and for some people this is the start of a new year as January was just a "trial period". In line with the “new year and new me” motto that many adopt I would like to ask you to please check yourself and do better MBA. Hopefully I won’t see you around next year. Regards, Hulisani WATCH - http://www.news24.com/Live/SouthAfrica/News/maidens-bursary-when-customs-compromise-human-rights-who-wins-20160202 UPDATE: http://ewn.co.za/2016/01/29/Human-rights-commission-looking-into-virgins-bursar Dearest friend
We have known each other for many years. Over a decade in fact. We have lost and gained friends in our group but at the core of it all I have always had you. You are my other half who happens to be white. Your parents love me and mine love you. After years of friendship I should find this easy to say but I don’t. So let me try to say it now. I’m black. I know that you can see that because you have 20:20 vision plus you have a good relationship with differentiating colors so clearly that isn’t all to the story. I am the black friend. This means so much more than my skin. This means so much more than your skin. It talks about my culture and where I come from. It talks about social injustices and inequality. The one thing that has come to the forefront of my mind is that we are so different and you refuse to accept that. When I stand up for a black person I don’t mean to say that I hate white people. I also want you to understand that when you say something like, “oh my gosh, I wish that my hair could do that” in reference to my straightened Afro – it may not sound as great to my ear as it did coming out of your mouth. The hair that crowns my head was never a topic of discussion while it was in its natural kinky state. But, the moment it conformed to the beauty standard set out hundreds of years ago it became desirable. That is similar to me being your friend isn’t it? If I were not as eloquent as I am would you still want me as your friend in public? I’ve overheard you telling people – I am your friend and then reassuring them that I am not like other black people. The thing is that I don’t know how to approach these issues with you. We are at this place where our friendship has history and my black consciousness is a new thing. I want to be able to reconcile my feelings towards my skin, my culture, my beliefs and my support of black people while being able to have you as a close confidant. In the new year you may see the direction of my conversation changing towards you. This isn’t because I am trying to make you feel uncomfortable but rather to make you aware of the bigger picture. We are going to be catapulted into a new part of our friendship because I am tired of walking on eggshells when it comes to race. Sincerely, Hulisani Dear Sugar Daddy.
Last month we celebrated Christmas. It was probably a difficult month for you. I mean you have your wife at home to buy gifts for as well as your own kids and extended family that may live on your property. Crucial to that however you can’t forget that you have your sugar baby waiting on the sidelines. All year you have showered her with gifts and December really shouldn’t have been any different. In fact, considering the standard that you have set during the year I expect that Sugar Baby was going to be hopeful for a pricey gift. It goes without saying that you may not have seen Sugar Baby a lot during this festive period for many reasons including the fact that your wife is at home 24/7 or because Sugar Baby has been sent to visit granny for the holidays. I mean, she is only 16 after all and needs to culture relationships with her cousins. On the off chance that you do see Sugar Baby this holiday may I please make you aware of an interesting report released by ONE.org in October. These statistics in the report were shocking and I’m positive that you must have seen them since you are engaging in transactional sex with a minor. Actually, I shouldn’t even sugar coat it and should rather call you out for your behaviour. When you have sex with a minor it is actually rape. Before you tell me that it wasn’t rape just don’t. She is a minor, you are a major which means that her ‘consent’ doesn’t count with you. End of story. Don’t bring it up again. So, on the off chance that you do manage the chance to rape your Sugar Baby please take into account that these are the statistics. In South Africa 800 girls between the ages of 15-19 are infected with HIV per week. Per week. 800 girls. 800. Let us break down the numbers since your good at juggling them to support so many people off of your salary. A year has on average 365 days. 800 girls for every week would give us a total of 41 600 new infections per year. This is just for the age group of 15-19. I’m not saying that you infected all these girls, or that you have infected any girl at all because that would be ludicrous and could amount to a law suit for defamation of character. What I am saying is that 41 600 is a big number. Any you contributing even 1 more to that statistic it too much. Even if you are ‘paying for it’. However, I am not all doom and gloom and if you insist on spending money on young girls may be the first to request you to donate money to these organizations They both help distribute sanitary products to girls who are in situations that don’t allow them to use such. As a result of inaccessibility on average these girls lose up to 60 days of school because they can’t attend as they are menstruating. This is a ridiculous over-site by our government because by not being proactive they are enabling a society which consistently puts female rights in the back burner. So I hope you did the right thing last Christmas and did not rape a girl but rather gave a girl access to her full schooling career and reduce her risk of contracting HIV. Sincerely, Hulisani |
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