A divining mirror on the wall usually performs for those who want to be beautiful–possibly the most beautiful of all. But is beauty or race what makes us who we are? Does the physical body define the soul? Are physical qualities anywhere near as important as the spiritual (inner man)? As I approach 80, I struggle to see what I am inside more than what I appear to be on the outside.
Race. The colour of my skin, the flare of my nostrils, the texture of my hair, the S of my backside. I am none of these; I am all of these. Race. My mother is caramel, my father pure chocolate, and I am hazelnut. They taught me that education and excellence would open any door. I believed it; still believe it. Race. Raised in Nigeria, I live in The Netherlands. I temper the directness of the Dutch with the verbosity I think Nigerians inherited from the British. Race. When I look in the mirror, I see a girl, a woman, a lover, a wife, a mother, a friend, a sister, a mentor, a coach, a writer, a warrior — all I have been, all I now am, all I will one day be. When I look in the mirror, I see me. What if my father were Australian and my…
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MULIEBRAL VIEWPOINT 
This is a lesson I’m learning too: “. . . I struggle to see what I am inside more than what I appear to be on the outside.”
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You are already on the way to becoming a person instead of a puppet. If only all of us could look at ourselves from the inside–the real side.
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If only. Thank you!
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