Self-love in a post-colonial context
I begin with the premise that a butterfly remembers
itself only as a caterpillar, never to see the beauty of
its flourishing wings, but accepts itself to be complete
in form and function. Self-love is not to instinctively
conceal and impulsively improve on our flaws, but to
first understand them as fragments of a bigger puzzle
and a part of us.

The truth about man, and try as he may to mask the
many faces of his condition, is that born naïve he/she
is inherently flawed. In an erroneous effort towards
diminishing returns, a futile attempt to shift the
equilibrium to a more favorable state, lets call it
perfection, he often looks for a remedy outside of
himself for a gaping visceral wound.

This is no different for the black body who exist in a
post-colonial world, a world where their mere
existence is a political issue, thus elf-love for the black
body is a form of protest. In lieu of this search of
external acceptance, Frantz Fanon once wrote the

“Out of the blackest part of my soul, across the Zebra
striping of my mind surges the desire to be suddenly
white. I wish to be acknowledged not as black but as
‘Broken things’ follows the story of two African
characters that learn to embrace and –ultimately – fall
in love with their flaws. Those imposed by a colonial
machine in a society brainwashed to believe whatever
narrative it manufactures. A story that reflects an
internal outlook on beauty in its broad strokes. In the
end they not only fall in love with themselves, but also
fall in love with each other.

The greatest form of acceptance is self-acceptance.
But it’s not out there, somewhere, waiting to be found.
It’s right here where you stand, and wherever you will
go, as it always begins and ends with us. This is an
ode to black beauty, to the healing of the black
community and the rise of Africa. Not only through
seeing beauty in ourselves, but in all of us.