Sometimes, when I speak, my mother comes out. Spontaneous cacophony I cannot control, my trunk, encased in the fear of splintering your legacy, coerced upright by transcendent heritage and pride; tangible evidence that little brown girls fertilised by faith, sacrifice, high expectations and love can germinate into formidable forests, like you. [extract] ©Assumpta Ozua I've… Continue reading Woman Crush Wednesdays #1
