“The emotional, sexual and psychological stereotyping of females begins when the doctor says, its a girl.”
The voice from the radio spoke out loud.
In the darkest hour, the sun had passed and the night had begun. The midnight hues of the skies covered the city and the glowing bright lights of Manhattan’s attraction stood out from where she was standing. The dazzling shadows of the skyscrapers across the blue waters soothed her mind and the sharp wind blew the curly knots of blonde hair in her face.
The burning lights from the skyscrapers stood tall like big birthday candles. The consistent whizz of sirens and hovering helicopters circulated in the city.
She looked at the dark skies, the bearing of planes in the high altitudes looked like birds flying in the sky from the edge of the window. The scene of their faded figures in the far distance became hard to point out, the dark horizon was lit up by the blazing and dancing shadows of city lights.
Most people see birds as a symbol of freedom, their ability to soar high into the skies, something desirable that man cannot do alone. They are free to fly and they are signs of renewed life, the transition between life and death and a hope of a future.
She was nicknamed Birdy by her late aunt who had raised her from a young age, the woman who had given her a chance in life, unlike the ones she called her creators, her parents.
She looked the tattoo underneath the sleeve of her grey hood, she kissed the black marked words in italics surrounded by sakura patterns that read Pretty Bird in honour of the life had aunt had sacrificed her life for.
Her sharp pink acrylics marked an invisible pattern around her tattoo, a wet clear and warm liquid fell onto her wrist and slid over another layer of tattoo patterns of broken chains. She wiped the tears falling from her puffy red hazel eyes.
She slid down from the dirty window sill coated in dust, rust and burnt cigarettes. Her feet clothed in worn out white Air maxes met the stone cold and concrete floor boards.
She had been squatting at one of the notorious trap houses in Brooklyn for days. She hadn’t seen Tank or Blue in days and life was beginning to look a lot more real. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, she hadn’t eaten or drank anything in days. The most her body had consumed was the dench of smoke coming from the burning and rolled cannabis from the young men sat in the room.
A young male stood up from the group and walked to were Santanna was standing. He took her hand and said no more, she was dragged by him to a spare bedroom. His grip was rough and the pattern and sequence of events that her occurring to her weren’t any different. It was a repeated, a cycle of her 19 years of life, the life of an abused and broken woman.
But the cycle was different this time, because it affected the next cycle, the cycle of life growing inside of her, for 9 months.
This same man who had abused her was the man she had given her all to since the age of thirteen. He had given her false love, affection and respect and for so long she had become conformed to these things. He didn’t know a thing about her and he could barely remember her name, only the nickname he gave her. She was soul-tied.
His flesh against her body felt dirty and tainted, immoral, all so sinful. Sin was what she felt like and that was all she saw in herself.
She was sick and tired of this cycle of what she thought was “love” in the “man” she thought she was in love with.
In frustration, her fist connected with his face, the crack of his jaw gave her enough time to run to the open window. His roar of pain was followed by loud footsteps racing towards the door, her every move was timed before they all came after her.
She held onto the sides of the window and sat at the edge looking at the height, she would break a bone. She didn’t have time to think, not now. She threw her body forward and landed on her hands. She didn’t think about the pain, her legs ran for life and protection. But on those cold streets, no one stopped to care unless you were dead.
The velocity at which she was running caused her breathing to become heavy, her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest and her lungs were clogged with air. Her hands fought the streamlined air as they moved in a parallel pattern as she ran further away in the distance.
Her grey hood slipped off her and revealed her afro and jungle of dirty blonde big curls. Her face was covered in goosebumps and the wind pierced her cheeks red.
The sound of traffic was so faint and blocked out, the only thing she focused on was the block ahead of her. The muscles in her thick legs were visible through her grey track pants and the pain in her thighs and calves maintained the frown on her face. She was starting to feel the pain from the height she had jumped and her hip felt out of place.
Her lips dropped as she sprained a muscle in her right thigh, she began limping and her speed slowed her down. She was far from the trap house and she was a walk from Downtown. She walked into a dark corner with her head in her hands. She fought every tear and crouched to the ground.
She looked at her hands that were grazed and bleeding, they were covered in blood and bits of dirt and broken glass. She sat in the dark struggling to understand what her life had become. She had fought so hard to be different, to stand out and to stand her ground as a young black African American and Spanish woman who had ran away from home at a young age. She had fought so hard to be a better a woman than the prostitute who had given birth to her and the thug she didn’t recognise as her father.
She had tried to find love in the wrong places and here she was stuck in a spiral and downturn of her fall in this game of life.
In frustration, she pulled her hair back with the palm of her dirty hands, she pulled and swept it back into a high messy bun that brought attention to her strong jawline and the open cut beside her arched dark eyebrow.
She stood back straight and firmed her pain as she began to continue her walk. She didn’t know where she was heading, but her feet led her to a place that had been calling her for a while.
On the way, she saw ripped leaflets on the floor, she bent to pick it up but the forces of the wind swept it away from her reach and into a deep puddle. She leaped forward about to dip the flyer out of the deep puddle in the middle of the road but bright lights from a truck struck her sight.
The heavy wheels of the truck caught the puddle of water and missed Santanna by an inch, her body flew back in shock. She stood there in shock and hysterical tears followed.
She began running through an area she didn’t recognise full of strangers and dark faces. She couldn’t understand what was happening but the crowd of bodies pushed her back. Their eyes looked deep into her soul where all her shame was hidden. She tried to scream for help but she felt like someone was pressing their thumb hand against her throat to silence her. Some of their hands pinched her sides and in particular one hand reached for her stomach, close to her most vulnerable area, where her womb was located carrying breathing and developing life.
Tears cascaded and across the road there wasn’t a soul to see what was happening to her. The hand by her stomach was cold, rough and sharp. The temperature of their hand changed in the blink of an eye and became hot like a ball of fire she couldn’t fight them off her and the crowd was still dragging her back. It looked like a spiritual warfare.
Everything was beginning to black out and the sensation of burning fire reaching the depths of her stomach felt like the end of her new beginning for once when she had decided to take responsibility of the life she had created. She could feel the soul of the life inside of her being pulled out of her, her hand gripped the hand on her stomach, but it didn’t move.
She used her other hand to take the pocket knife out of her pockets, she reached the knife to stab the unknown hand, but the reverse occurred. The hand move from her stomach and rested on hers. It controlled her hand and the direction of the knife’s aim, the knife was aimed at her lower stomach, close to her womb. Her hand shook as the unknown hand held the knife at an angle that would stab her skin deep enough to kill her and her developing baby.
In the space of a second, the grip became tighter and the knife pierced the thick material of her grey hood, her lips parted called the name, “Jesus.”
With her eyes closed, she felt the flee of the crowd that had been pushing her. She fell onto her knees and cried holding onto the ground for dear life. She opened her eyes, the people she once saw where nowhere to be seen, it was as if she had imagined it and it didn’t make sense. She looked around her and people she hadn’t seen before passed her and crossed the road in fear as she was still holding the knife in her hands.
She panicked and threw the knife away from her, her body came up and ran from the scene in fear and confusion, she kept running and running until she reached the mighty doors of a building.
She saw the flyer she had tried to get when she was almost run over. She read the advertisement on it.
“The Forgotten First Love:
I AM A YOUNG WOMAN OF PURPOSE Conference
Dear Women, 1 Peter 5:8-9 warns us:
8 Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. 9 Stand firm against him, and be strong in your faith. Remember that your family of believers all over the world is going through the same kind of suffering you are.
Join us tonight at our church, all women of ages are welcome and we encourage you to come to a life changing life.”
Santanna didn’t think twice, it was her last hope after everything that had happened. She opened the doors to be welcomed by a young woman. She saw the look of fear written on Santanna’s first, even with her high walls and full attitude. Santanna was broken.
She ushered Santanna through another door and into a large conference room. The room was dim and the brightest lights were directed to the woman on the stage. A thousand women were sat in the room on the free seats listening to the loud voice at the front, the woman speaking.
Santanna sat at the far back away from eyes and looks. Her hood was up and it hid her identity. She kept her head down at listened to the woman standing at the front.
There were banners across the building, the same she had seen on the flyers.
The young woman performed and spoke out loud expressing her emotions and words in the form of a poem.
“I will wait for you.”
She spoke walking around the stage, the stage fitted microphones were loud and clear.
“So it seemed that it was cool, for everyone to be in a relationship but me.
So I took matters into my own hands, and ended up with him.
Him who displayed the characteristics of a cheater, a liar, an abuser, & a thief.”
Her eyes met Santanna’s who was all the way at the back with her hood up.
“So why was I surprised when he broke into my heart?
I called 911, but I was cardiac arrested for aiding and abetting,
Cause it was me who let him in…”
Santanna took a loud gulp, she was certain this woman could read her mind, soul and deepest secrets but her pride took over. She didn’t let it show but the words had a strong correlation with her life.
“Claiming we were “just friends”.
It was already decided for me by the first date, that even if he wasn’t!
I was gonna make him ‘The One’
You know, I was tired of being alone.
And I simply made up in my mind, that it was about that time.”
“So I decided to drag him along for the ride,
Cause I was always the bridesmaid & never the bride.
A virgin in the physical, but mentally just a grown woman on the corner in heat!
Who was tired of the wait!”
“So I was gonna make him ‘The One’.
He had a… form of Godliness… but not much.
But hey, hey I can change him! So (honey) I’ll TAKE him, I mean he’s close… enough.”
“Ready to sell my aorta for a quarter, not knowing the value of its use to me.
Arteries so clogged with my will, it blocked His will from flowing through me.”
So, I thank Christ that His blood pressure gave this heart an attack,
That flatlined my obscured vision, put me flat on my back
Through my ignorance He sawed,
Through my sternum He sawed & cracked open my chest
To transplant Psalm 51:10
A new heart & a renewed right spirit within!
So now I fully understand,
Better yet I thoroughly comprehend,
How much I need to wait… for You.”
“See, the bad thing is that I knew he wasn’t you from the beginning..
Cause in the beginning was the Word
And he didn’t even sound or shine like Your Son
Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks,
And all he could whisper was sweet, empty nothings –
Which meant NOTHING.”
“He couldn’t even pray when I needed him to,
Asking him to fast would be absurd!
So forget about being cleansed & washed with water through the Word…”
“But I know You..
You were already praying for me.
Even never having met me,
Let me assure you, I will wait for you.”
“I will no longer date, socialize or communicate with carbon copies of you
To appease my boredom or to quench my thirstiness I have for attention
And short-lived compliments from ‘sorta kindas’.”
“You know….
He ‘sort kinda’ right, but ‘sorta kinda’ wrong?
His first name LUKE,
His last name WARM.”
“I, I won’t settle for false companionship
I won’t lay in the embrace of his arms,
Attempting to find some closeness,
But never feeling so far apart cause, I just wanna be held”
“Cause ”all I gotta do is Say” No!
No more ‘almost sessions’ of ‘almost coming close’
Passing winks & buying drinks,
I’ma, I’ma, I’ma flirt!
Who flirts with the ideology of,
‘Can you just tell me how much I can get away with & still be saved?’
NO more.”
“I’ll stay in my bed alone, and write poems, about how I will wait for you.
He won’t even come close,
Our fingers won’t even interlock
We won’t even exchange breath
Cause I have thoughts that I’ve ‘saved as’ in a file that God has only equipped you to open.”
I will no longer get weighted down,
From so-called friends & family talks,
About the concern for my biological clock
When I serve the Author of Time.
Who is NOT subject to time,
But I’M subject to Him,
He has the ability to STOP, FAST FORWARD, PAUSE, or REWIND at any given time…”
“So if we could role play,
You would be Abraham & I would be Sara
Or you can be Isaac & I can be Rebecca – a servant’s answered prayer
I am bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh,
Made up of your rib Adam!”
“And once we meet, like electrons
I will be bound to your nucleus, completely indivisible atom.
We even speak the same math: 1 + 1 + 1 = 3, which really equals 1 if you add Him.
“We were all created in His image,
But you have the ability to reflect, project & even detect the Son.
If I were to explain what you looked like,
You would have to look like a star,
A son of the Son..”
“I would gain energy simply from the light on me.
I would need you , in order to complete my photosynthesis
I await your revelation, but once again from the genesis, I will wait for you.”
“And I will know you… because when you speak I will be reminded of Solomon’s wisdom,
Your ability to lead will remind me of Moses,
Your faith will remind me of Abraham,
Your confidence in God’s Word will remind me of Daniel,
Your inspiration will remind me of Paul,
Your heart for God will remind me of David,
Your attention to detail will remind me of Noah,
Your integrity will remind me of Joseph,
And your ability to abandon your own will, will remind me of the disciples,
But your ability to love selflessly & unconditionally will remind me of Christ.”
But I won’t need to identify you by any special Matthews or any special Marks,
Cause His word will be tatted all over your heart.
“And you will know me, and you will find me,
Where… the boldness of Esther meets the warm closeness of Ruth.
Where the hospitality of Lydia is aligned with the submission of Mary,
Which is engulfed in the tears of a praying Hanna.
I will be the one, drenched in Proverbs 31… waiting for you.”
“But to my Father, my Father who has known me before I was birthed into this earth
Only if you should see fit…”
“I desire Your will above mine,
So even if you call me to a life of singleness,
My heart is content with YOU – the One who was sent.
YOU are the greatest love story ever told,
The greatest story ever known
You are forever my judge & I’m forever Your witness
And I pray that I’m always found on a mission about my Father’s business”
“Oh, I will always be Yours!
And I will always wait for You Lord, more than the watchmen wait for the morning
More than the watchmen wait for the morning…
I will wait.”
Santanna clapped her hands for the woman who left the stage, a lump in her throat made the tears hard to lock and her emotions were at their edge. She thought about running, like she had always done when she had to face the truth, but something deep down wouldn’t let her this time. It was now or never.
A woman walked onto the stage and she recognised the woman preaching, it was Malaika. Santanna looked down avoiding to be seen by her.
“Love is the beginning.The main reason for our differences is because we are so wrapped up in ourselves.The Bible declares that when we come together under the banner of Christ we will be in one accord.There is no division in JESUS.The division comes from us. Now is the time to repent of ourselves,to look beyond, & return to HIS love.Only then will we be truly united in love.”
Santanna slowly began to lift her eyes to meet Malaika’s eyes which had spotted her a long time ago.
“Matthew 27:50-51, And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit. And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook, and the rocks were split.”
“God wants you, daughters he is saying to us stop seeking love in the wrong places, come back to me, your forgotten first love. Women of purpose, if we don’t spend time with God, we start to assume and we get lost in assumptions.”
I”’m guilty, he doesn’t love me anymore because of my sin.
It’s a lie from the enemy.”
“Don’t search for love in the man that claims he loves you but keeps treating you like dirt and makes you feel ashamed to return to God because you think your sins are unforgettable.”
Santanna looked down.
“Solomon 8:4 says,
Daughters of Jerusalem do not awaken love until it’s time.”
“So many women are around the corner, down the block with this same man and you in flesh’s nature and as a woman will start to think that God doesn’t know your name, you start to believe he’s forgotten you and abandoned you.”
“No, reject those thoughts, don’t even go there! Psalm 46:1,
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”
Santanna played with her hands and shifted in her seat as the words became louder to her.
“We should be obedient and seek him first as always as it is written in the scripture. Father I say this prayer for every woman in these four walls,
Psalm 69:17,
Do not hide your face from your servant; answer me quickly, for I am in trouble.”
Malaika fell to her knees and her voice broke as she wept reading Psalm 142:3-6 from her bible, the scripture was displayed on the projector for the people to see on the large screen.
A tear fell from Santanna’s eyes as she read along with Malaika weeping at the front.
“3
When my spirit grows faint within me,
it is you who watch over my way.
In the path where I walk
people have hidden a snare for me.
4
Look and see, there is no one at my right hand;
no one is concerned for me.
I have no refuge;
no one cares for my life.
5
I cry to you, Lord;
I say, “You are my refuge,
my portion in the land of the living.”
6
Listen to my cry,
for I am in desperate need;
rescue me from those who pursue me,
for they are too strong for me.”
Santanna’s defensive character full of pride and hidden deep and dark secrets was broken by her flow of emotional tears that painted a story of her life. She swept the hood on her head back and revealed her face as she stood up. She was the first to stand up out of the crowd of the women and that was her first act of obedience.
The worship team filled the stage as Jonathan Traylor and One1Way began leading the service back into worship over Malaika’s cry in worship.
“Every situation we have been through God has brought us out, God did that. Know who you are, your hold the light.
I say this every time, we see the flying planes, the technology, God created the pea-brains that made these things. What do you think Heaven looks like? God created these mind blowing things, what do you think eternal life looks like?
We have somewhere to go after we die, we have eternal life. We don’t just die, we have somewhere to go, we live people of God.
God does not hold back anything from us, some of us only go to GOD when we need something, with a grocery list but he never holds back from us”
The lead singer spoke louder,
“God has had to go through some nasty situations to bring you out, he has to go through some crazy situations to bring you out, so how dare you hold back, how dare you hold back?”
Santanna held back her tears and held on strong to her broken heart.
“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters wherever you would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wonder and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my saviour.”
Those lines were sang continuously by the worship team and the more they were repeated, the more tears fell from Santanna’s eyes.
“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters wherever you would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wonder and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my saviour.”
She fell to her knees and did something she had never done before and the heavens watched her. Her cry was heard.
During her cry, a hand reached for hers and helped her up, it was Malaika. Malaika hugged her tight and comforted her with a strong prayer. And in that prayer she mentioned her nick name, Birdy. Santanna didn’t know where Malaika had heard it before and she didn’t have enough time to react to that. Malaika held her hand as they walked together to the stage where the pastor was praying for people who had surrendered and come to give their lives to Christ.
At the front, Santanna saw some of her family, Zipporah, Izzy and Theo who had at first come to support Malaika preaching but also took the opportunity to get saved as a family on that night.