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“The idea that sex is something a woman gives a man, and she loses something when she does that, which again for me is nonsense. I want us to raise girls differently where boys and girls start to see sexuality as something that they own, rather than something that a boy takes from a girl.”

— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie



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Wednesday, May 7, 2014

The Country Gyal Journal

©copyright Crystal Evans 

Latest Novel 

Excerpt from The Country Gyal Journal! 

He slammed the door and I thought about all the people who slammed doors in my face ever since I was a baby. My mother who never gave me a dime in my life and had never been there for my sisters and I or my father who turned a blind eye while my stepmother verbally abuse us. 

I wanted to go back home but I could not face those bitches who would tell stories sprinkled with anything but the truth about how I left country thinking I was going to become somebody and ending up back there worst off than I was before. 

The men would have a field day and now that I was out of plastic I would not be expected to act like Ms Goody Two Shoes anymore. These bitches made me feel inferior my entire life while complaining that I acted superior to them. 

What a parody.  Me coming down Bucknor Lane with bags and belly big like a balloon, the women looking out at the spectacle, listening to the susso susso coming from the verandahs. I would be the brunt of female jokes for days and these women would relish in my failure as it would substantiate what they had suspected all along that I was never really better than them, just trying to be better like they did and failed miserably. 

I would join the ranks of the "has been", using my ass to wipe floor from sunrise until dusk, chewing on people's name like wintergreen, hoping that by bringing attention to the failure of others I would not feel as useless and inadequate as I really am. I would gain amusement from life's tragedy and spend my entire life as a gaping spectator.  I would prefer to lie beneath Andrew a million times and suffer his indignation than go back to those streets and join the ranks of the women there. 

I would prefer to fit in here than lower myself so that I can be one of them. I am never going back the way I came. I choose to be a maid and a concubines of my employer than to be another baby mother, lurking at the shop front trying to snare a man so that I can buy Lasco to feed my baby. 

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