Diva Strikes Again : The Ivory Tower Topples

Once upon a time, there was a princess of a very small kingdom.  Twice in her life, suitors passed the customary tests and won her hand, but twice just as the time came to fully establish their claim, they lost interest.  The first saw bigger and more complex kingdoms just over the horizon, and was given the freedom to pursue his dreams.  The second simply grew tired of his obligations.

Disappointed, the princess built herself a tower of ivory from the tusk of a giant elephant.  There was but one room at the very top.  The walls were smooth so that no man could climb it.  Only she knew how to get in or out of that one room, with its heart shaped window.  She vowed never to come down though, until she found a love that was true enough that it needed no customs or rituals.

Some impressed by the genius of the tower, and others by its artistic value brought cut flowers to the base of the tower.  They would shout their praises.  The princess ignored them.  She cursed their already dying tokens, the odor of their decay sickly sweet but producing nothing.  At some point, the gifts were so many that she finally accepted some with a minimum of grace, but only from the safe distance of her window, and for a very short time.

Some few, having a bit more sense than others, brought her potted plants.  These, she was happy to receive, but being a princess who had always had things done for her, never understood the care and nurturing of plants.  All her life, plants seemed to exist and grow as if by magic.  When she passed, all stopped and bowed, so she had never actually seen someone nurturing a plant.

Highly intelligent, but also highly stubborn, she insisted in the belief that if these gifts were given in love, they would last forever and grow from this energy.  So to keep the gifts safe, she would put them in a drawer with neither sun nor water, then be disappointed when they died.

This was me until a couple of days ago, sitting at Diva’s table, having it explained and finally understanding what a bitch I still was.  Right then and there, under a large but dainty foot, the last bit of my unnatural entitlement was squashed like a little bug.  I am frightened, but excited about getting my hands dirty and of course not being the man, but doing my fair share of the work.


My pronouns are whatever you're comfortable with as long as you speak to me with respect. I'm an Afruikan and Iswa refugee living in Canaan. That's African American expat in Israel in Normalian. I build websites, make art, and assist people in exercising their spirituality. I'm also the king of an ile, Baalat Teva, a group of African spirituality adherents here. Feel free to contact me if you are in need of my services or just want to chat.

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  • You’ve read the article, now get the t-shirt! :-D