I am always late for work. There. I've said it. And the frustrating thing is that my lateness isn't caused by traffic or some unpredictable morning disaster. Most of the time, it is entirely my own doing. I wake up and make my coffee. Then I get back into bed, which is right by the window, cross my feet, face the window and slowly sip my coffee. And when I say slowly, I mean slowly. I look at the trees. I watch the birds. I feel the morning sun on my skin. Sometimes I just sit there with my thoughts. I really love these mornings. I've also noticed something else. When I give myself enough time in the morning, my body usually does what it needs to do. A slow morning often leads to a bowel movement, which, as far as I'm concerned, is one of the must-haves of starting my day. And so I find myself wishing for more time. More time to sit. More time to drink my coffee. More time to maybe get outside and do some yoga or mat Pilates on the grass while the sun is stil...
Chris Brown’s song Loyal is catchy, no doubt. But listen closely to the lyrics: “When a rich man wants you, and your man can’t do nothing for you… these hoes ain’t loyal.” The entire weight of betrayal is dumped on the woman. The man who knowingly chases someone else’s partner? He is invisible, blameless, even glorified. This narrative isn’t confined to music — it mirrors society. The Invisible Man, the Visible Woman Think about it: a man pursues a married woman, or a man flirts with someone in a relationship. When the story breaks, the woman is branded “unfaithful,” “cheap,” “disloyal.” Yet the man is rarely dragged into the spotlight. He is excused as “just being a man,” or worse, admired for his boldness. In Kenya , scandals play out the same way. Side chicks become national gossip. Their faces and names are plastered everywhere. But the married men who approached them, funded them, or promised them the world? Their reputations remain intact. The blame is not shared. It is ske...