The Whole Bloody Kaleidoscope

Isn’t it crazy how the world tells you to be authentic? Be real. Show every colour in the kaleidoscope that makes you, you. But then the algorithm will literally slam-dunk that theory into the void, where apparently my Blackness needs to be wiped off on the Black whimsy doormat before I’m allowed inside. 😵‍💫😂

YES, I love colour. It makes up almost my entire wardrobe, weaves through the fabric of my home and even influences how I encourage my children to show up in the world. But that is not all of who I am.

I am also the Black woman who loves her Blackness. Who will channel her inner Marcus Garvey from time to time. Who will write her whole heart onto paper like Mary Prince, whilst wishing she had even a fraction of Toni Morrison’s literary magnetism. 😅

Those worlds should be allowed to collide. I can talk about whimsy today and Black political power tomorrow. Spirituality in the morning and some ridiculous thought about creating a Black-owned MySpace by dinner. 😂 None of those things cancel the others out.

And I’ve really started noticing that pattern on social media platforms. The algorithm seems much more comfortable when you present one easily categorised slice of yourself at a time. Meanwhile, I appear to have arrived as the whole bloody kaleidoscope. 🤷🏿‍♀️😂