Thunder and Lightning

Chapter 1: Don't Try Me!

Her sex was hers. Her body was entirely hers and she loved every curve. She was sexual, but wouldn't accept sexualization. She was thick and soft bellied. Her hips curved out from a small waist that had thin lines that traced along the sides of her body and told the story of her puberty. A dark brown rectangular scar was prominent on her right thigh, a remnant from an accident with a curling iron in middle school. She had grown to love the scar as a memory and reminder of life in lye. Now, her hair was neatly braided, long down her back and slightly damp from her recent shower. She stood in the mirror applying almond oil over her skin as jazz played in the background. White candles and sage burned in her room.

Nzinga got dressed in long, over the heel galactic tights and a white off the shoulder sweatshirt then left out for meditation along the waterside of old town Alexandria. Sundays were sacred to her. She spent those days focusing on her goals for the week, letting go of the past and being grateful for where she was that day.

She had forgone her normal routine of Saturday morning shopping, opting to catch the Sunday Farmers market for fresh produce. She strolled through the colorful market that looked like a painting of fall harvested vegetables, local wines, and autumn flowers. Nzinga carried a large satchel on her forearm to store her collected purchases from the day's exploits.

A gleam caught her Eye drawing her to a small jewelry booth that had varying pieces in silver, and gold plated settings. Her fingers traced the edges of an amethyst necklace that captured her attention, "How much for this one?"

"Hey darling, it's $35 and that one in particular is pretty strong. Can you feel the vibrations?" His accent was rich, though she could not place his homeland. His beady eyes surveyed her body and gooseflesh covered her body in disgust.

"Strong vibrations?"her voice dropped an octave.

"Woman..." his voice sing songed, condescending to what he believed was her ignorance of the culture of magic. "It was blessed by the Tibetans. Some were made into prayer beads, the others were made to be sold here" He looked proud of his story, Nzinga returned his smile with a glare. She felt no power or blessing coming from the stone. It felt dead, surely whatever blessing that was there was tainted by his trickery. Magic was not so easy to come by anymore and divinity would not rest there and allow the living to profit from sacred promises. She had seen the holy leave the pews of churches to escape the consumerism that had replaced the grateful giving of the people. Her Eye opened and saw slime and black goo that coated his aura.

The center was pure, though. He was a man that had survived life's obstacles and his own transgressions. This hustle was as much about eating as it was about profit. No person was purely evil or purely without righteous motivation. But life wore on everyone and eventually, whatever good within them is discarded to make room for rough and primal instinct. Her eyes softened at the pure center and she spoke gently, "Well..." she returned the sing song tone and gently touched his hand. "this woman knows better. I'll give you $10, and you have to promise not to tell that story again." She was proud of her handling of the situation.

"Bitch! Who do you think you are? If you don't have the money move on. I have customers ." His accent changed and the only thing that remained in his voice was anger. He shooed at her. "Don't come here messing up my money."

The words stung, her nose flared in anger. Her kindness seemed foolish. She was already hungry and his aura, though ugly, still tempted her. Her magic pulled at the man's essence strings, but she didn't unravel the discord within him; there was no untwining the wrong that covered him - it would only return after a period. He had grown so used to the disorder in his spirit it had nearly become an addiction rooting itself at the deepest part of his spirit. She felt no sadness as she took energy from him. She consumed his weak and perverted magic that likely passed from older generations unbeknownst to him. She walked away, her Eye full and satisfied as he panted and grasped his chest for breath. She dropped the amethyst necklace into her bag and put in her earbuds so the lovely Nina Simone could croon to her once more.

An Active Mantra for Melanated Women who were just TRIED

Wherever you are get comfortable.

If you are sitting, sink into your sit bones

If you are standing or otherwise active, relax your shoulders

In either case, relax your neck and release the tension in your jaw

Take a deep breath in, hold just for a second and the let the air out gently

Take another deep breath in, and this time let the air out making a "ha" sound

Repeat these words

I am human and

I am allowed to feel anger

I am allowed to express that anger

I am an angry black woman

And

I am also a smart woman

I am a kind woman

I am a fulfilled woman

I am at peace

And fuck the people who try me