You know those days you sometimes get when you just want to scream?

I has it.

I’m sure there’s some convenient lolcat somewhere to express this sentiment, but right this second, I don’t really give a flying f*ck.

I woke up this morning with a sharp lower back pain that I last associated with labour. Or cramps. Eff. It only subsides if I curl up in foetal position, and I can’t exactly be placental all Saturday.

No, it’s not because I got some last night. It actually started when I tried on my kid brother’s glasses. It induced a mild headache, soon followed by general malaise, and by the time I got into bed four hours later, I thought I was going to die.

Not really, no, but I felt pretty bad.

Then come this morning, the hell-invoking ache in the back. I blame Mwaura.

But I digress. This was supposed to be about coconuts and greys.

See, I’m told that I’m too white.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing. The boy that I love is white, and he’s tolerably fond of plain old me. Plus, I suppose between skating dates and wind-chime hunting, my race is sometimes in doubt.

I’ve also been told my writing isn’t Kenyan enough, and that ‘real people don’t talk like that’. Something about picture-perfect superficial dialogue.

Thing is, I’m as blue-black as  iodine Ajuma … only with a little more hair. I’m often described as ‘foreign-looking’, though both Kale’s and Jang’os are quick to own me, and some Nubians think I’m theirs as well. I suppose that’s why I liked living in Dar so much – because there I actually was foreign, as opposed to being lost in my own home.

I like the way I am. I don’t always understand it, but I like the way I am. And I like that some people like it too.

The thing with humans is that we’d all like to be accepted for what we are, but most of us learn to be what is liked. We conform to be more popular, which I think is really, really sad.

But as a business-person, I’m faced with a dilemma. Do I water down my product into what the masses want, or do I learn to make some money from the few who like ‘just me’?

Most people agree that quality-wise, Capital is the best station ever. But as much as we complain about Kiss playing the same songs over and over, and having shows that are sometimes … less than pleasant, they still have the greatest ratings.

What to do? Stick to Kiss or pull a Capital?

God I want to scream!

Fly awayLenny Kravitz

9 thoughts on “The blackest white girl…

  1. Do both. Tune in to kiss and sometimes do a capital. I don’t see this as a dilemma at all, in business you just give the people what they need!

    But if its personal, screw them and do what pleases you.

  2. You care WAAAAAAAY too much about what other people think. Just do your thing. As long as you know you’re not being superficial or fake, then that’s all that matters.

  3. Do you, CB. Don’t dilute it for the masses, whatever you do.

    It’s like, as you well know, my obsession with everything Koontz writes, though a lot of it isn’t exactly palatable to the masses. Popularity is only skin-deep; your hardcore fans will read you forever.

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