Me: When you look at me, what do you see?
Him: Well… I see the pretty, sophisticated and cosmopolitan scientist that you are.
Me: Do ya? Right…let me tell you that you looking at a shadow of that. Have you ever read the Myth of the cave, by Plato’s? Like the prisoners, you just perceiving the shadow.
Let me tell you who am I. I am, in fact, a countryside girl. Yeah, countryside, rural, county…you name it. I have it in my large bones, in my wide shoulders, my fully breast and my large hips. My legs are round and beefy, just like a countryside woman, and my feet, although gracious, dream for a comfy working pair of boots. I have the redness of a countryside girl when I’m hyperventilating and if I pull my hair out to a ponytail you can just see the rustic lines in my features. Look at me. Look at me. Can you see it? Can you see the complexion that comes from the exposure to the weather, can you just imagine how white can my flesh be in body parts that never seen sun light, like my chest?
My strength is the very same one that drives a wild animal blindly and fearless trough unexplored mountains, used to fight the adverse weather conditions to survive. Yes, I was raised being told to have a gun underneath the mattress for whatever’s needed.
Then my culture, my soul, has been influenced by the exotic, bizarre life. My dad used to dance marrabenta and when was young my mum volunteered in school for children of black slaves. I have Africa in my soul, at that’s what you see every time I smile at you. Someone once said to me in the street that I had the Africa´s smile, even though this person, a complete stranger, could never guess that I had such an African influence. I cannot help myself moving my bum to the sound of heated rhythms, and my fiery personality is no more than a reflex of my parents’ wildness at heart. I’ve grown up with it, can’t avoided, and if I am honest, I wouldn’t want to be any other way…
But besides all this, when you look at me all you can see is what my world’s not. I’m neither sophisticated or cosmopolitan… you cannot perceive me as I really am and I know that the contrast of our both worlds is enormous -my ruthless echoes with your posh and established family, your cultural roots and your oxfordian education. And I’ll never be good enough to your standards and you’ll always be too innocent to submit to and accept mines.