A late reblog in honour of #IWD2019.

Lorraine's frilly freudian slip

You will be a woman. You will be a warrior.

Aisha readies herself for the ceremony.  The gold specks in her green eyes spark in the torch light.  Ritual bathing in the warmed mineral waters perfumed with hibiscus, bergamot and dragons-breath.  Soft, sweet, scented as a woman must be. Her sensual soaping leads to erotic thoughts of warrior partners’ prowess, sweat and strong shoulders, musk and divine luxuria. Must remain pure in thought, pure in deed. Til ceremony. Til passage. Rises steaming; rising phoenix. She dries off on lavendered linens, and begins her physical trans-morphing.

You will be a woman. You will be a warrior.

Gathered the sacred nuts containing the blackening kernel. She chanted, cracking the iron-hard shells representing a warrior’s strength. Boiled the inner kernel to a black sludge to which the wise women added the special potions to create the night face paint.

Black for the night…

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