photo by Lucxama Sylvain
Azima looks in the mirror, what does she see? “you are beautiful, when they say you are,” that is the voice in her head speaking.
So here she is, waiting to be validated. Is she beautiful or ugly? Silence is all she hears.
Some days she looks her best, no one says a word. The days she looks her worst, all hell is let loose. All tied tongues become untied.
Like an onion in their hands, layer by layer, they strip her of her dignity Pointing out the errors in her appearance. Her confidence erodes.
Sometimes she finds her voice, she responds to their insults. Using words as insensitive as theirs. Like an onion, she leaves them misty-eyed.
Other times she scurries away. Hiding away in corners, licking her wounds. Trying to recover from the insults hurled at her
“There’s no beauty in you,” again, that’s the voice in her head.
She read from a book, that in her hair lies her beauty. Her hair, her crowning Glory, that was the title of the book.
Elated by the words of the author, all roads led to a beauty salon.
True to her nature, she settled for a simple hair style: single long braids adorned with decorative accessories.
Braids as smooth as the teeth of a new comb. Each braid embellished with a stylish bead.
She received compliments only but for a week. Hours spent at the salon
The pains of a new hairdo, all the stress for a week’s validation?
Where does that leave her
Does she get a new hairdo every week to remain beautiful?
“Do what you may, there’s still no beauty in you,”
That’s the voice in her head.