Lebo Mashifane
‘Who Am I?’
I sat under the deep dark shadows
Of introspection
Looking in the mirror
Known as self-reflection
And I asked
Who are you?
The mirror turned to waters
With a broken image
Roaring
I am the African lacking melanin
Androgynous artist
That is always on a self-battle
Between downing anti-depressants
Or inhaling cannabis
The 80’s born that hangs with “born frees”
But still questioning freedom
Does it have a voice?
A picture,
A price tag
Or a skin colour?
Is it a state of mind?
What status states us free?
Is it a shopping spree?
I’m still shopping for my identity
As mine was snatched from me
In the name of
Religion,
Money,
Light skin,
Straight hair...I’m not straight!
I am the open closeted queer
That doesn’t conform
To norms,
Normal is an allergy to me
I am the weirdo amongst artists
And also amongst lesbians
How small is my community?
In this society, artists are weird
Queers are... Well...you got that right
But I am still wronged
Wronged by a fabricated identity
And going through a phase called
Identity crisis.
So who am I?
I am love undefined
Unfathomed
But forbidden
The deranged
Delusional
But really enraged
By the illusion
Sold to us with a price untagged
I am the freedom fighter
For the weirdos
The rich talents hovered by poverty
The 3am staggers
Writers
Thinkers
Who are frightened by their own dreams
Stuck with visions too big
For the nothingness in their pockets
The losers of the family
Because
Because awuna niks
Your existence is the roster for the whole clan
Because awuna niks
Ang’kaqedi
I am the demonised moral
That keeps quiet
With a loud mind
Questioning the unconsidered
And answering the future past
I am the queer artist
Child of the soil
When I rise, many fall
So I stay grounded
For peace sake
That is rooted
In my life at stake
Ngi ngaka bhodli
I’d like to end off this page
