We stood at the edge of the cliff. My eyes raged with pain and hatred. A feeling that I never usually experienced.

My so called former friend stared back at me, her eyes glazed over in their usual state of ignorance. To think that I had spent so much of my heart on her.

Who would have ever thought that she was actually a wolf in sheep clothing.

I must have been a real bad judge of character. It seemed that everyone else was in on it except for me.

I saw a beautiful talented yet broken young woman, who didn’t know her self worth. I wanted to help her see herself as I saw her. I spent hours listening to her tear herself down, gave her a shoulder when she needed it the most and wiped away her tears when she cried.

I was blind to the real poison that she really was. She was never really a nice person.

She felt power putting others down. The more acid that dropped from her mouth the better she felt. She fed off the misfortunes of others. Seeking validation of her own self, by belittling others.

She thought her shit didn’t stink. A false wave of bravery was worn as a cloak masking her insecurities.

I was so blind to her, that I never saw the knife that she had been holding the whole way through our friendship. I never felt it stab me in the back until it was too late. I was lost in her, love for her leaked from every pore. I was protective of her, she was lost and broken and it was my duty to look out for her.

How wrong I was. She was never my friend. I was just a crutch to her. Used over and over to boost her when she was down. I was her personal punching bag.

She had someone who would ride to the end of the world for her and yet she continued to beat me down to boost her own ego.

As with most things, we started to move apart. The further and further apart we got, the more aware I became of her deceit, of who she truly was.

My eyes were fully open. The rose tinted glasses had fallen and shattered; I was free of their spell. I saw her for who she really was. With every bit of strength I had I removed the knife from my back.

The wound took a while to heal. But in time it did and I grew as a person.

I never thought I would see her again.

But here we were together again, after what felt like an eternity.

She thought I was still the same person I was. Fragile, naive, weak. Boy was she wrong. Little did she know that in the time we had been apart I had grown. The little lap dog that would follow her around was gone. In its place was a fierce, confident and strong woman.

Our eyes locked, two former comrades, now true enemies.

The battle was ready to begin.


I am… Recording

So I only went and recorded a copy of the piece “I am” that I wrote this morning.

This is something I’ve never done before, but I’m kinda proud that I did it.

Have a listen below.

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I am…


I am a black woman.

Words that I never really thought about before.

I was always trying to distance myself from it. Market myself as just a woman.

Why should my race have anything to do with who I am? We are all equal right? Race is nothing other than a social construct?

Ha like fuck it is! Race is real people. I live, breathe, bleed race. I am a black woman.

Now more than ever I truly see the beauty of who I am. I am done living in shadows hiding myself. Self hating. Wishing I was something else. I am done hiding behind my hands and seeing the reality of what is happening in the world. Ignoring it. Pretending that it’s not true. That it’s too far away to affect me. That it’s not my problem.

Well it is! It is real and it is happening. For too long people who look like me, who are like me, have been robbed. Robbed of their opportunity to rise, to live, to exist.

Now more than ever I know who I am. Never again will I hide myself. Try and blend in. I want the world to see me. To see us. To see we.

I am a black woman.

I am black!

Writer’s Corner: Confession

I want you all to hear my confession.

My name is Zainab and I am a creative.

I was born to create. Art excites me. Music excites me. Words and stories get me high.

I don’t want to be ashamed of who I am anymore, I want the truth to be known. I want to be proud of who I am!

I don’t want to fit into a box. I don’t want to be part of the norm, a cog that keeps society running smoothly. That’s not me!

I want to be at one with my creativity!

I need to be me! I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.

I want to sit in the dark listening to music with tears streaming down my face and not feel weird about doing it.

I want to lose myself in stories that are not my own.

I want to experience the euphoria that only comes from embracing the world that I belong in.

My name is Zainab and that was my confession, thank you for listening.

Imma Star!


Okay, so I’m not a star disclaimer, but the other day I just happened to be on a film set, my first one might I add. (And it was a for a huge feature film, but I won’t say what it was until later).

And though I was not in a starring role, (my role was very tiny), it was still exciting and 3 days later I’m still buzzing.

To all those people who think being an actor is all glitz and glamour, that one day you’ll be famous and you’ll be invited to all the big parties and get loads of free things and wear beautiful dresses, walk down red carpets and have fans screaming your name; I need to tell you now you need a reality check. Working on set is damn hard and it is tiring and draining.

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Writers Corner: Morning Pages 1

I have started to get severe writers block over that past couple of months, so I have challenged myself to start writing everyday from the moment that I wake up and just let it flow.

These pieces will all be mostly unedited and very random but it allows me to exercise my creativity without having a filter.

Here is one that I wrote this morning:

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Allow Me to Re-Introduce Myself

My name is Z..A… to the… well you get the gist.

I’m back boy’s and girls with a brand new flavour. This is the more grown up, I have time, I’m going to be serious, I love to write, I love to share and I love to post, blog.

Many of you my valued followers, may have been sad to find that I laid my former blog Amber Spotlights to rest a few months back. Yes though I did love Amber, like I said before I’m on my grown man B.I so I wanted to take my blog in a new direction, be more dedicated more serious. Not just have a few postings here and there. I wanted to create a brand and now finally I feel I have that.

So here’s to Red Lips and Twist Outs and like the description says this is not a natural hair blog, so please don’t get it confused with one. I’m not here to mislead anyone. Though as a natural sista I do follow natural hair blogs religiously, and maybe from time to time there might be a natural hair post here and there, but I repeat this is not a site dedicated to the cause.

So why the name Red Lips and Twist Outs then? Cos that’s me baby baby! All jokes aside I wanted to call this new grown up blog something that reflected me and after a long time of soul searching and mountain climbing (well not mountain climbing per se, though it does run in my blood, my amazing cousin climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro last year so who knows), Red Lips and Twist Outs came to me, so hey there you have it.

A new blog is born.