My Guilty Pleasure

I have one guilty pleasure that would likely destroy my reputation as a hardened, militant black atheist. I like a gospel song. Before everybody utters their collective “I knew you weren’t atheist” sighs of relief (because some people are genuinely concerned for whatever reason.), the only reason I love this song is because of 3 major reasons: 1. I grew up on it. 2. I’m a music lover and I think it’s a superb song 3. I’m almost always broody and the fact that I can’t give birth makes me very very sad. This is genuine, sadness that often turns into psuedo-depression and I think the person offering the prayer in the song feels the same way. I’m hacked that I won’t ever experience carrying my own children and going through the beauty that is childbirth.

The only thing far worse than admitting that I like a gospel song is revealing which one….. Well, I’ve gotten this far, I might as well just tell you. Rebecca Malope’s ‘Nkarabe’ is my guilty pleasure. As I type this, I have it on repeat. Not because I’m looking for some sort of spiritual transcendence or the meaning of life on this Sunday morning (we’ve already established that I don’t believe in that bullshit and the reasons why I love the song), but because like many mornings before this, I’m bored and I’ve missed hearing it. I usually source the song, binge listen to it with the ‘show what you’re listening to’ box not ticked and then delete it a few hours later. I doubt that it’s gonna be any different today.

I have this belief that the more you tell people about yourself, the less power the piece of info has on you. Hence this confession and the open nature of many of the posts here.

Anyway, now you know my shame. I’m gonna keep listening and wonder why I can’t give birth (and no, I don’t need biology lessons.).

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