I’m Still Me.

I got married that’s all. I’m still me. So why try to erase the ‘me’ you married? Did you want me for us? Or did you want me for you?
Unsatisfied, you railed for evidence of your ownership. So I proceeded to grow a whole new limb just to tuck away my perfectly good ones; I dropped my name. In seconds, I was past tense, as though I wasn’t useful to begin with.
Forbidden to use the now dirty word, a tiny voice inside reminds me “I’m still here”. But it’s not clear what makes my identity the default that must disappear. What about yours? Must I ‘die’ for marriage? Wasn’t I good enough already?
Two become one…household. Individuals never disappear. Me I’m still here; at my core, not much different from the day or year before. Marriage only adds another dimension to my already rich story.
Now painfully grown into a whole new body, I’ve borne an unnecessary personal cost for everyone else’s ‘convenience’. From now on, take it or leave it. I am good enough just as I am.
#nwaami
Photocredit: In and Out of the Studio: Photographic Portraits from West Africa. Untitled, #313 [Woman Seated on Chair] (detail), 1956–57, printed 2001.

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