Women are the only group that shares a bed with their oppressor – Andrea Dworkin
Tag Archives: marriage
Nose Rings – An Intro to the Settle Down Selections
So I just spent this morning reading a Twitter thread about why Zimbabwean men would never marry a woman with a nose ring. I will give a few of the justifications that were “given”
1. Those nose piercings and tattoos are a symbolic statement of a certain belief like satanism
2. Lol I use to say that…Learnt the hard way…She can be a good person clubbing hard, but that does not mean you should marry her. You will raise the kids in the club.
3. Yes, l think it’s high time Zim men have an open mind when it comes to women. A nose ring does not mean she is a whore, in church there are sometimes women without nose rings and they are whoring like crazy! 🤣
4. It’s associated with the street and wildness (or most people who used to do it were for the streets). So it gives us nerves and fear as if we took a whore for a wife. Otherwise it shouldn’t be a thing.
5. I personally wouldn’t. Im sure some of them are great people but the ones I knew who were into that were very wild and loose…The stereotype unfortunately stuck.
6. That’s a sign that she belongs to the streets…
7. Nope,no tattoos,no drinking….🚩🚩 Most definitely no smoking
8. Nose ring signifies potent cock sucking skills so no for me
9. I want it as bad as earrings, but I’m not a whore. I will wait till after marriage then do it
10. Would you be comfortable to introduce her to your mother? If the answer is yes, go ahead.
If this is our mindset on nose rings and we have not even touched on religion, politics, class or family values pray tell how are we going settle down?
love and lockdown 2021
Silent Border Crossing
A short story on women, poverty and migration
“Where is my baby? Mwanawangu aripi? Where is my baby? Where is my baby” Chipo asked frantically.
Tiny little Mudiwa gone and she didn’t know what to do. What would her husband say?
“Ndiani wamapa mwana wangu? Who did you give my child?” her eyes were full of tears as she yelled
The driver looked away and told her “Sister ma1. Everyone get back on the bus we have to go in 10 mins”
“But my baby where is my baby?” she yelled again but the bus drove away.
Chipo grew up in Budiriro 3 in Harare. She didn’t know that she was poor, because everyone around her was poor. Of course there were “those neighbours” that had relativesb with big big cars that would bring their relatives groceries all the time. She wondered why they didn’t take their family members to wherever it is that they got these big cars and endless bags of groceries. She asked her mother once and her mother told her “Chipo unotaurisa.” She was often told that she talked too much but if she had a question she had to ask. This is what made her the top student at Budiriri 3 Primary School and later on at Budiriro High school.
Chipo was not only a good student but she was what the elderly aunties called a nice girl. They would often tell her mother “endemunemwana akanaka.” This comment wasn’t about her beauty but her character as she was agreeable, helpful and she attended church enough to make her mother proud.
Chipo met Tawanda when she was 17. She had passed all her 0-levels but her parents could not afford to pay for her to finish her A levels. She was informed by her mother that she would have to find something to do or get married soon. Her mother laughed as she said it but Chipo felt as though it was not a joke.Continue reading Silent Border Crossing