Can you believe I hated my people, my tongue and my culture so passionately that I actually used to get really angry when people would ask if I was Somali. I credit that anger stemming from the psychological abuse I received from those who were birthed from the same womb of Hoyoo Somalia as I was. While that is an absolutely okay reason to have been angry since it was from a place of traumatic hurt, continuing to be angry is not an option for me right now. Now I am quietly rummaging around my history, my own narrative and those around me and am left in awe at how majestic my beautiful country is. It has taken me a long time to get back on this road but part of my self love journey is including my appreciation for that which hurt me. Somali tongue. Somali flesh. Somali culture. I actually cry now when I look through historical images and to know of historical icons. I actually weep at how proud I am to be Somali. Last night when I was translating a piece my aabo wrote for me upon request, I was moved by how eager he was to help me. Joy filled his anciently gifted gaze. It saddens me to know I had stalled a bond we could have strengthen over the years but part of being kind to myself is understanding that what I did to protect myself than is justifiable so long as I choose to move forward in the now. I did what I had to do in order to survive. Somalia Ha Noolaato!!!!!! ( Long Live Somalia)
Posted on: Mon, 01 Dec 2014 00:51:40 +0000
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