You arrogant and judgmental shits of people.

It’s been more than 2000 years and y’all are still throwing dirt on my name without having the foggiest idea about my life.

You know nothing about me and what drove me to do the things I did.

It all started with my father, King Ethbaal. I tried so hard to hide the start of my menstruation from him because in our tradition, my first period marked my entry into womanhood, and my uncles had to introduce me to the fertility god Asherah.

Baal must have sent a whiff of the the smell of my blood to Ethbaal because 3 days after I started bleeding, my uncles came into my room unannounced carrying Asherah in their hands and accompanied by guards who played drums outside my bedroom door. They overpowered me as I tried to escape through the window before all 12 of them proceeded to take turns with introducing me to Asherah. I never understood why she would take pleasure in my pain and humiliation if she was supposed to be a god that looked out for me.

The maid servants gave me cannibis to numb the pain in my body soon after, and told me that it will assist me in escaping the real world into the safety of my consciousness. It helped for a while, but it didn’t quell the nightmares and anxiety that continued to plague me.

Angry with my father and his gods, I turned to the religion of Yahweh in secret. My father would have me killed if he discovered that I turned away from his religion. I shaved my head and wore peasant clothing so that I wouldn’t be noticed in public, and I secretly left the palace through an underground tunnel that wasn’t under guard.

But even reaching Yahweh was burdensome because of all the required rituals. There were too many offerings that needed his appointed priests to perform. I already felt unworthy, like I was scum. I felt like He was distant from me because He could see my dirt and was repelled by it. But I was desperate for something to love me and give me meaning, so I persisted, ritual after ritual.

One evening, the head priest called me into his chambers to discuss a cleansing ceremony he was to have with me the next day. I believe my father’s gods imparted their spirit of lust of hypersexuality in me. Why else would the priest look at me with such insatiable desire, as if my body was public property for male satisfaction?

He overpowered me, and forcibly took my body. He told me that he would have me stoned for blasphemy if I uttered a word about this.

After that incident, I gave up on God on men. I became immune to the healing effects of cannabis, so I turned to blue lotus to free me from my pain. It gave me power and courage to strike out at any man who dared to harm me. I soon turned me from a timid woman to a rough and no-nonsense leader that refused any sight of weakness.

I vowed to never be hurt by any man again, and that history will know me as a powerful woman who made men bow at her feet and tremble at the sound of her name. I vowed to destroy all the men in my family, all the male prophets of Baal and all prophets of Yahweh. They are all liars, and their gods ruin lives and take away freedom and personhood.

Look at what they did to me!

They took away my innocence, turned me into scum and made me pay the hefty price for their sins. I was nothing but their public property, first as a woman with no say over her life and body, and secondly as a princess with no say over her personhood and future. Am I not human? Do I not deserve to be loved and respected? Is my vagina a license for abuse?

Everything I did as queen was a means to avenge myself, to make an attempt at creating a world that I desired where men were killed for disrespecting me and other women would be free from fear by being inspired by my strength and leadership. I learned to take from this world by whatever means before it took from me.

I lived my life through the power of blue lotus, magic mushrooms and opium, all which expanded my consciousness to reveal the beast within me and make me unstoppable in attaining all of my goals.

I might not have been perfect, but it felt so good to be in control, to live without fear and to be on top of the world.

*image from Favim.

*Dailypost WordPress.


3 thoughts on “HI. MY NAME IS JEZEBEL

  1. This was a great read. Throughly loved it. Also read your piece on Sir Khama and his wife Ruth, again, an interesting read. But wonder if you can help… In 1994, my husband and I moved to South Africa (Jo’burg) from the UK and now I want to write a memoir about my time there. The domestic lady had was a friend and a great support. Her surname was Makhonto. Do you know if this name is Setswana or Tswana?

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