Dee's World

"SACRED VIOLENCE"

They call it tradition
but tradition should never taste like blood.
Should never sound like a child
screaming into cloth
as steel replaces innocence.

Infibulation.
A word dressed in syllables
too soft for what it means.

They cut.
Not for health.
Not for healing.
They cut to own her.

They strip her of what makes her whole,
then stitch the wound closed
like her body is an error
God forgot to erase.

A slit remains,
barely enough for blood,
not enough for breath.
She urinates through pain.
She bleeds in silence.
She heals in fear.

Legs bound for weeks
tied like truth they’re trying to hide.
Her stillness mistaken for obedience,
but it’s trauma wearing a quiet face.

And when she “belongs” to a man
he reopens what should’ve never been sealed.
He splits her back into pain
so he can call it pleasure.

Love?
There is no love
in tearing open a wound
just to satisfy a myth.

And still
we stay silent.
We let it pass as “custom.”
We whisper,
"That’s how it’s always been."

But no one asks:
What happens to the girl
after the bleeding stops?

She grows into a woman
haunted by her own body.
Urinary tract infections,
fistulas,
infertility
and still they say:
"Be proud. Be pure."

But purity should not come
with a price tag of pain.
And dignity
shouldn’t be carved out with a blade.

The worst part?
It’s not the men.
It’s the women
mothers, aunties, midwives
the same hands that once rocked her
now prepare the knife.

So NO!
feminism is not about dishes
or splitting bills.
It’s about this.
About girls
being cut for control.
About silence passed down like inheritance.

This is where the fight begins.
Where the noise must rise.

Because this is not sacred.
It is not holy.
It is not her destiny.

It is violence
carried out
in the name of protection.

An oxymoron wrapped in culture.
A war dressed as ceremony.

And we must call it by name.

Say no to silence.
Say no to pain passed off as pride.
Say no to infibulation.

Say yes
to her freedom,
her wholeness,
her God-given right to feel safe
in her own skin.

🖋️ Dee.

“BEAUTY IN THE BREAKAGE”

She doesn’t run from silence
she listens.
Catches whispers in the stillness,
lessons in the lull.

Pain doesn't paralyze her
it teaches.
She gathers every ache like a map,
charting purpose through the wilderness.

Her scars?
She doesn’t cover them.
She lets them shine, proof she bled,
stood back up,
and chose to grow anyway.

Her past doesn’t cage her,
it chisels her.
Pressure made diamonds,
fire made her gold.

She’s not made of ease,
she’s made of endurance.
Not untouched,
but transformed.

She found power in the pieces,
peace in the pressure,
hope in the haunting,
and praise in the pain.

She rewrites wounds into worship,
turns heartbreak into holy ground,
lets every setback echo,
not as defeat
but as the sound of faith marching forward.

'Cause when life tried to bury her,
God called her seed.
And what blooms now
isn't just survival
it’s TESTIMONY.

She’s not just rising
She’s resurrected.
Grace-covered.
God-kept.
Glory-bound.

And you can’t break what Heaven holds.

🖋️ Dee.

"BEAUTIFUL CONTRADICTION(A Sanctified Chaos)"

I’m a walking paradox
sweet spirit, sharp tongue.
Soft like Psalms,
but I’ve cussed in my prayers
and cried on gospel tracks
when I couldn’t say His name.

I crave touch like fire,
but pull away when it gets too warm.
Want love like Eden,
but fear the fall.

I say, “I trust You, Lord,”
then make backup plans.
Say, “Your will be done,”
but flinch when He says wait.
I know the Scriptures
still wrestle with my shadow.
Still kiss the cross
with stained hands.

Some days, I glow with faith.
Other days, I ghost God.
Hide behind habits.
Talk spiritual,
but feel split in spirit.

Still…
He calls me Beloved.
Not “perfect.”
Not “put-together.”
Just, mine.

I’ve asked for peace,
then ran from stillness.
Begged for godly love,
but didn’t believe I could hold it
without shattering it.

I love deep
so deep it scares me.
But even the ocean
was made by His voice.
So maybe this depth?
Ain’t a curse.
It’s divine.

I dance between “use me, Lord”
and “I don’t feel worthy.”
Between “bless me”
and “don’t look too close.”
Between worship hands raised
and body bent under shame.

But grace?
It catches me every time.
Doesn’t flinch at my contradictions.
Doesn’t skip over my stumbles.
It rewrites my name
where fear tried to tattoo failure.

So don’t get it twisted
this chaos?
It’s not confusion.
It’s construction.
I’m not broken, I’m becoming.
Shaped by mercy,
healed in pieces.

I may long for what I fear.
I may push away what’s pure.
But I’m still choosing
peace,
presence,
a God who holds all my parts
and still says,
“This is good.”

I’m not asking for perfection.
I’m asking for holy love
that can hold me honest.
To be seen in the storm
and kissed by the calm.
Because even in the tension
between desire and discipline,
I know this:

He’s not done with me yet.
And I am still…
a beautiful contradiction,
held together by grace.

🖋️ Dee.

"FOR ME"

I felt running away, would save me,
or maybe I just wanted it to.
But somewhere in the giving,
I lost pieces of myself
left them tangled in someone else’s hands,
in someone else’s Mistakes,

It wasn’t the first time,
but it was the one that broke me open,
the one that made me question
if I’d ever know what it meant
to be whole on my own.
To love myself
without needing someone else
to fill the gaps.

I told myself it was time to heal,
but healing isn’t as simple as patching up wounds
it’s learning to stand on your own,
to be your own person
before anyone else can step into your life.
And so I began to pull away,
to break free from the weight
of needing to be seen in a way
that didn’t serve me anymore.

I realized I was chasing something
that never fit,
something that made me forget
who I really was,
what I was truly meant for.
I needed more than a love that took
and left me empty.

And then, in the quiet of the nights,
when the noise of the world finally dimmed,
I felt something shift.
A deeper call.
Not from anyone else,
but from something far greater
a pull toward a truth that had always been there
but I hadn’t been ready to hear.

I want to live right.
Not just for others,
not just for the world’s approval,
but for me.
For the person I’m becoming,
for the One who knew me before I knew myself.

There’s freedom in the surrender.
Freedom in letting go of what I thought
I needed to hold onto.
Freedom in trusting that the love I seek
has always been right here
in the hands that made me,
in the heart that sees me,
in the grace that whispers to me
that I’m enough.

So now, I walk a new path.
Not defined by who I loved,
but by who I am.
And every step forward
is one I take for me.
For the me I’ve been hiding,
for the me that’s finally ready
to stand tall in the love
that was always meant to be.

🖋️ Dee.

"SILENT SPOTLIGHT"

When you shine without trying,
be mindful.
That effortless glow,
so natural,
so unfiltered
it’s not just admired,
it’s also envied.

Because light attracts all kinds
some are drawn to it with joy,
others with a quiet jealousy,
waiting for you to flicker,
to dim.
And here’s the thing:
You never asked for the attention.
You were just living,
being yourself,
heart open,
spirit unguarded,
presence undeniable.

So protect your peace.
Guard your energy.
You can be kind,
but don’t be naive.
When you carry a light this rare,
you’ll find others won’t know what to do with it.
They’ll try to shade it
because they can’t find their own.

But don’t shrink.
Let them watch.
Let them whisper.
Let them wonder
why you shine the way you do.

Keep glowing anyway.

🖋️ Dee.

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