Thoughts. Ramblings. Heavy-hipped. Mango-obsessed.

Britain's Next Top Model...

What I watched yesterday:

1) a woman who's CLEARLY had plastic surgery done on her face

2) a man who CLEARLY looks like he likes his doughnuts

3) a man who CLEARLY looks like he could do with a doughnut or two

4) a woman who, well, looks kinda average to me. (And I don't care if she's been out with George Clooney).

These are your judges for Britain's Next Top Model, people.


5) 4 semi-finalists, 3 of which could REALLY do with some feeding and some sleeping to clear up their skin. If you don't look good WITHOUT makeup, then what's the point? Makeup, if you're gonna use it, should compliment you, not hide you.

I was quite embarassed by the whole show. Judging a bunch of young women whose self-confidence isn't solid is cruel - that's not what they need - these women are at an age where they're still trying to figure out who they are. Hell, I'm still trying to figure out the sum of my whole parts and I'm in my 30's.

The Visitor(s)...

paid me a visit last night
no: bling
      gold teeth
      designer gear
just hip hop - a man
and a woman
at the foot of my bed
holding hands
naked as the day they were born
Adam & Eve

merged as one.

© ebele

Lullaby for a Lost Griot...

i do voodoo, so
dope beats cannot protect u
i'm comin for u

'cos your legacy breeds
boys with super-size hard-ons
unripe wombs with thongs

Now, when did it go from
'yo' momma is sooo fat'   to
'yo' momma is sooo slack'?

do you go down on your mother
with a tongue like that?

When did it go from
'she's 21'   to
'uh, but she looked 21'?

Sleep with one eye closed tonight, my friend
'cos I guarantee you
tomorrow, the future won't look so bright
with one eye missing

Now if you can boast openly
about what you wanna do to me
b/w the sheets,
then I can boast openly
about what I wanna do to your balls
(...but that's a whole different poem;
think I'll call it 'And Then There Was One')

It's not your fault, you say
it's the lingo, innit, we use it everyday,
well lingo this:
i do voodoo, so
dope beats cannot protect u,
got my cowrie beads in my left hand
the tail of a dead cow in my right
All I need is a picture of you
to make it complete
That shouldn't be so hard
I can grab one off my 8 year old niece

You better run
'cos with devil's chalk etched 'round my eyes
and gin in my mouth, I spit on you
Now quick, quick,
detach yourself from your latest 'bitch',
pull your trousers up
and run
Now who's the bitch now?, BITCH!?

Let me tell you this...

griot. misguided.
you are 50 times better
than you think you are

drink green tea. It will cleanse your tongue.
suspend ego. unmask truth.
it might seem like a long hard slog, my king
but I believe you can still create music organically...
    You are talented
    for I was there when She blessed you
    when We blessed you...

See?   I knew you wouldn't listen
blocked up by all the bling
the women
the millions

I.AM.SO.TIRED of loving you
defending you
being hurt by you

boys with super-size hard-ons?
unripe wombs with thongs? know I can't allow that

so, you are no longer my king
(oh, I'll mourn you for a while,
but I'll get over you)

a mouthful of gin, I spit on you

for you are a wolf in sheep's clothing

You are not Hip-Hop.

i do voodoo

i do voodoo

i do voodoo, so
dope beats cannot protect u
i'm comin for u...

© ebele ajogbe

I'm Not a Hip-Hop Head but...

(The blog I read couple nights ago - seems to have done something to me - brought up stuff - thrown more logs on the fire in my belly.   I wrote this piece some time ago - was an email convo I had with a friend - which I then expanded. So here it is.)

NOW, I'M NOT A HIP-HOP HEAD... I can very well imagine that one day someone will probably challenge me and say that I know nothing about hip-hop (implying that I have no right to challenge it). What I do know is that I'm not into lyrics that degrade women – it just so happened my subject of choice is hip-hop – it's as good a place to start as any, methinks.

I'm not prepared to watch certain artists give what is a great artform a bad name, riffing off with the mentality that 'that's just the way it is'. Now I might not know a whole heap about hip-hop but that's not what I imagine encouraged its initial growth – I think the growth of it might have started out of desperation, out of a need to say "Hello World, I have a voice", out of a need to say "if no-one's gonna tell me I'm beauty-full, if no-one's gonna give me the time of day because of the colour of my skin, if I'm gonna be shoved off to the ghetto and left to rot, if the money I spend does not enrich my community, but continues to suck the life out of it, then, hell, I'm gonna tell myself I'm beauty-full even if I have to exaggerate the hell out if it, this is my Capoiera, this is my gum-boot dance, this is my Oriki".

I draw the line when what you say presents a warped view of women (and romanticises gangster'ism and the ghetto), when you know and I know that you have a whole heap of talent and yet you choose to denigrate, when you know and I know that a lot of the people buying your music are young people and you wouldn't be where you are today had it not been for them – what?, a teenage girl scrapes pennies together to buy your latest CD to listen to you call her a bitch and a ho? - a boy buys your latest CD to listen to how you smacked your bitch up, fucked her from behind, bought her ass (out) with Gucci & Krystal?  If this wasn't so serious, it'd be childish and boring.

(Parental Advisory stickers on CD covers – erm, what's that?)

So, my cute 7yr old nephew comes up to me the other day and says "auntie, look how girls dance!", and he starts wining up in front of me – I'm like 'what?' – my soul sank to the bottom of my feet. I thought: hmm, do I hit him now or later when his parents ain’t around? (Or do I practice my karate skills on his folks instead?)

I argue with myself in my head and sometimes I think "but what some of these 'rappers' are rapping about is their reality, it's their way of expressing themselves, of venting - it's what they know". Then the other side of me thinks, "BULLLLLSHIT – no-one's that one-dimensional – and if what they're rapping about is harming just about everyone involved, including themselves, then what's the point? Really."

(You can take the man out of the ghetto but you can't take the ghetto out of the man – that's bullshit too. I don't know why. But it is.)

So, as far as I'm concerned, what some of these artists do is not hip-hop in my eyes. A wolf in sheep's clothing is still a wolf...even if it becomes a vegetarian!

(p.s., is Lil Kim fuelling or quenching the rampant level of misogyny in the industry?)

(p.s.: If you find yourself getting defensive over my take on things (though I don't see why 'cos I'm sure you've heard it all before), and you feel like 'labelling' me a 'feminist' in the same way women were branded 'witches' back in the day, then please form an orderly queue behind 50 Cent, R Kelly and the rest of the gold-teethed bo-zoes that Africa's slowly becoming too ashamed to call one of her own.

Should your defensiveness upgrade to aggression, please convert said emotion into monetary energy which you may donate to a charity of your choice – lord knows there are plenty of women's centres, youth centres, children's homes, empowerment projects and support phone lines that could really do with the money.

The Aggression to Monetary conversion rate depends on the amount of r's in your Grrrrrrrrr. Each 'r' converts to a pound or a dollar. So, for example:

GRRR = £3




pps: ahem, you might be thinking "she's all talk and no action - what is she doing about it?" And that would be a good question. An even better question if it came from someone who was actually doing something about it. )

(ppps: do you know how many souls hip-hop has saved? Honour the religion or STEP THE FUCK OFF IT. )

Sexism, Misogny - the Great Sex Divide...

I was reading this blog last night.

And it made me think of my experience in the world of women & misogyny & claiming our tongues.

Some men don't realise when they're being sexist - everything about a woman is for their sexual pleasure - you can be a lesbian as long as they can watch, you can masturbate as long as they can watch. When you choose to pleasure yourself for yourself, it becomes a problem 'cos they're not part of the equation.

I performed at this event once - where most of the people were into hip-hop - the woman that came on before me had a short skirt on - whining up her waist and stuff - the crowd was cheering - really getting into her & the music.

Then I came on with a long jeans skirt & a t-shirt saying 'Phenomenal-Woman', asking the ladies to say they love their vaginas. You could have heard a pin drop. I moved on and did my poem.

When a woman claims her sexuality for herself, when she uses it to honour herself, it doesn't wash with a crowd that's used to seeing women objectified.

It really hit me hard - I went into the toilet and cried my eyes out - so much for a Phenomenal Woman.

Took me a while to get my groove back. The energy in there made me feel like I'd said something wrong, like I was dirty.

A couple of months later, I was performing at this other event and another performer approached me – turns out he was at the other event I did – he was a Christian - and he challenged me about using the word 'Vagina', then asked me what religion my parents were.   So.   Apparently. It's ok for a woman to whine up in front of you, but it's not ok for me to say the word 'Vagina'?   OK.

The woman that writes this blog has had enough – she's about to shut it down. She's worn herself out – which is what happens when you give energy out and less comes back. I know the feeling.

Go read her blog – you might not agree with everything she's got to say or with her approach, but if you love it, like it (or just like parts of it) and you can see yourself going back every now & then, please send her an email to let her know.

Have a nice weekend, y'all... men & women...


Dear Reader...I have nipple hair...

Two to be precise - just above my right nipple.

Potential health hazard if you ask me - imagine if you will:

Scenario 1: I have a baby. My baby chokes on my nipple hair while I'm breastfeeding him/her. I'll never be able to forgive myself (neither would my baby - poor kid could be traumatised for life).

Scenario 2: I shave my nipple hair - baby's lips get seriously bruised by the stubble.


Maybe I'm special.

Is it a bird?, is it a plane? - no, it's The Woman with the Bearded Nipple.


(Isn't it bad enough that I'm so beautiful? Why God, Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.)


On a serious note, I'm ok with it. I've had it for so long that I am now at one with it. Sometimes I shave it off. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I bunch it up in a ponytail. Or a side parting.

I find it all freakingly interesting though - my nipple hair - same way I was amazed at the intricate way my stretchmarks grew on my body - like creeping plants.

My book 'How to Love Your Titty Hair' is available on Amazon and all good bookstores, including barber shops... except my local barber's - he's a perv.