A post shared by Africa Brooke (@blackoutbell) on Mar 25, 2018 at 6:41am PDT

One evening, not so long ago, I attended an event called “The Special Guest” hosted by a friend.

I watched people from the audience get up on stage with only 60 seconds to share whatever took their fancy with the rest of the spectators. Something struck a chord—I had something that needed addressing.

For the past year, I have been trying to reconnect with my sexuality and my female anatomy of arousal.

I have been healing myself sexually and spiritually—with that journey comes a lot of unlearning and making amends. As women, we have been oppressed in music, in literature, in art, but no more than in sex. The Western world often views pleasure through the male lens and we are left with no choice but to navigate a world that refuses to see us take ownership of our sexuality.

If a body part could speak out about its oppression, I’m sure our vaginas would have plenty to say.

As she doesn’t have a voice and I do, on this night I decided to speak for and to her. As women, we need to do all we can to help each other realise that we are normal and that the acceptance starts within.

We do not need to subscribe to society’s idea of what is considered “desirable.” Our body parts do not need to imitate those we see in coffee table magazines. Our sex does not have to be a performance piece. We do not exist only for the male gaze. We are enough as we so choose to be.

I’ve always written lyrics about men I’ve loved, about men who’ve hurt me. I’ve always mustered up words to express my feelings for others, but never for myself.

It dawned on me that I needed to write words for the most sacred part of me, a part of me that makes me whole, a part of my womanhood that I have disregarded most of my life.

A wonderful part of my body that has been shamed even before I was born. I had something to say to her: an apology of sorts. An apology to a part of my body that has loved me unconditionally.

I wrote this to free myself but when I finished writing, I realised that this might free another woman too:

Ode 

I’m sorry for wishing you were pink
I’m sorry for letting in people that don’t deserve you
I’m sorry for wishing your lips were smaller
I’m sorry for over cleaning you with bullshit products that only made you sick
I’m sorry for ever being ashamed of touching you
I’m sorry for ever believing you are meant to taste and smell like Fiji water 
I’m sorry for holding you down and ripping your hair out by the roots
I’m sorry for allowing porn to dictate what you should be.

My dear Pussy,

Pleasure is our goddess given right!

Author: Africa Brooke
Image: Author’s Own
Editor: Sara Kärpänen
Copy editor: Nicole Cameron