Taxi Queen

When it’s second nature to tally the passengers in a taxi before you get in…
When you automatically look inside to determine the ratio of women to men…
When you check if the ladies at your stop are going to take the same taxi
And you see them making the same calculations you’re making about their safety…

When you work out all the passenger stops along the way hoping yours won’t be the last…
When you berate yourself for being paranoid after the driver tilts the rear view to leer at you, not just glance…

Was he looking at you, you fret,
Or inspecting the old sticker above your head?

When he turns to ‘pretend negotiate’ your sale with the driver in the next lane
and you ask yourself why the fuck you even have to feel this disdain
And wonder if they ever wonder whether their daughters are subjected to such shame…

You realise the burden of your African royalty is:
To them you’re just another taxi queen.

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