As The Fontanians launch date draws nearer I can’t help but intertwine the impending success or failure of the site with the success or failure of myself as a human being. Which is wrong, I know. But knowing something cerebrally and believing it in the core of your being are two such very different things. And only the latter really matters.

I feel invisible sometimes. Like I need to roar to be seen. Like I need to strip to be heard. Like someone scraped away every layer of my power and left me raw and impotent. Like people feel they have to sympathize with me when I tell them where I’m from. Like it’s not enough to just say “I’m Zimbabwean” anymore. You have to say “I’m Zimbabwean but…”. Without that disclaimer, they’ll see you as either a pauper or plunderer. A rapist or a victim. Black or white. No more shades of grey.

But I’m Zimbabwean, and I am grey.

So, somehow, I have to focus on the power that I have – writing – and I have to leverage it the best way I know how – online – and I have to shout and scream and beat my chest as loud and long and hard as I can. Until they see me.

I am Zimbabwean and I am grey. And I am more powerful than you give me credit for, World.

Unless it all goes horribly wrong. In which case this could be a little bit catastrophic.

But, no pressure. Me and my big mouth.

Good luck, Me.

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