the pain i feel from anyone on this earth feeling like they have a right to anyone else’s sacredness. feeling like they have the right to say to a man that he can not speak his own language. that someone would come to his home and make him call them master. to me there is no such thing as a white african, an afrikaan. it is a figment of a delusional imagination. a revisionist history that is of the clearest, most obvious lie. a white person is a white person in africa. and certainly not one single african persons’ master, and certainly someone who will never belong to her. the history of how white people forced their way into her stomach, chills my bones and brings the wail of the ancestors to my lips. ‘a gossip language,’ this sends a shot of both rage and light through my being. we need to reclaim our languages, this inspires me to begin this conversation in our communities to reclaim our dying and almost extinct languages. poc languages are soft and broad, sharp and wide, light and deep. but we are losing them, and with them go us.