Is this thing on?

I’m sitting in the apartment in complete silence. Its 5:16pm on a Saturday and I’ve only just finished my afternoon Coffee. I had two choices, no three. I could be catching up on Scandal (I’m three seasons behind), I could be finally reading last months Home Style magazines. I could have snuck a nap in. Instead, I chose, no I wanted to write my first official blog post for this space. 


Firstly, it feels so good to be Home, even if it is in the virtual sense. I’ve avoided really cementing an online space outside Cake By Candie because…well…because I was embarrassed. 


Yep, ashamed. Of what? Well boy, do you know how many times we’ve been here? Some of you who have followed me since ‘The Tortoise With No Hair’ will know that I’m no stranger to online shenanigans. Through blogs and video content, I have left a massive internet trail, which hopefully will lead here. This took a lot of personal courage for me. Creating a space in my maiden name. Putting past internet interest to bed. Really allowing myself to feel as though, I’m worthy of even directing somebody to my website to check out my work. Madness. I admit I’ve played a good game and my BRIT school training has not gone to waste because you all think i’m confident. And I am, in areas that I can control. Me stepping into and onto this platform is me trying to relinquish some of that control and give myself the platform I deserve. 


This theme, this debilitating anxiety of not feeling worthy to posses greatness is extremely prevalent within the black society, you're especially at a higher risk of feeling this way if you possess a vagina which happens to be rich in melanin. 

For years I’ve watched white women celebrate themselves and each other for skills and talents which don’t even get a second glance in my community. See we have to be good, hell black women have to be great but to then be great and be allowed to celebrate it? That’s not a privilege reserved for women that look like me. We do brilliant work, we tweet the link once and then we return to our caves of creation not once looking back to continue the shameless self promotion that will cement our adoration but more importantly garner respect.


Wow, that got deep. But it had to be said in order to build a house, this house, on a solid foundation. This is my first step on a winding staircase which will hopefully lead me to the sweetest parts of life thus far. But no good can come of sitting on the bottom stair, or worse still pacing the hallway thinking how long it will take me to get to the top.


So here we are. My two hours of silence is soon to be up. Shortly, Esme will come swooping in with her demands and anecdotes. ‘I was a lion at Drama school today mum!’ she’ll yell, while scanning the kitchen to see if the fish and chips that were promised have magically appeared. In between the cries for ‘more juice’ and washing up for the 80th time, I’ll laugh to myself cause today,  even if just for the ten minutes it took to write this, I felt like a lion too.