MY Rights...

The greatness that is a national holiday... But as humans, we keep getting the essence wrong. I could actually be the one who gets it wrong but 'cause my head's too stuck up my own ass, I don't realise it. However, I'll continue believing it's a day to remember, even for a second, those who took the stand to make it possible for us, to be.

Not a day to be starting riots and cursing white humans. I'll cuss them out anyday and everyday if I feel like it, thank you. It frustrates me that people have unsaid expectations of sort. Should I be carrying banners protesting in the streets or something? Is that what the rest of you are doing while I bob my head to Kanye West samples? Or maybe I should take the easier route and send chain texts quoting Dick Johnson and Rita James who were killed in 1960 rather. That could just do the trick. I may be curled up on this couch, but that doesn't mean I don't acknowledge their contribution to what is. The same goes for the other national holidays, Heritage Day especially. I'm starting to hate that day actually. Humans see it as priority to always be on my ass, accusing me of not knowing my heritage. Tricks and pricks PLEASE! I won't walk around in traditional attire chanting the 'Ingqumbo yeminyanya' theme song to prove to you exactly what I am. I choose what language I speak, and I owe you nothing. My parents can't ducktape me with a 9 milli 'gainst my temple dictating my life, neither should you.

But on this Human Rights Day, I'm being called ignorant and ungrateful. All this for sitting at home, phone in hand with my earphones plugged in, listening to American rappers. Ever think that maybe I am actually exercising a right? A right to relaxation, more especially, a right to do what makes me happy? No. And here I was thinking happiness is a basic Human Right. So kindly, SOD OFF. I run this ship.