Before I get into my essay, I just wanted to address the people, mostly the black meghanites, asking me to leave Meghan alone, whilst in the same breath mocking me that Meghan doesn’t know me. Well, since I started writing the Meghan series, there has been over half a million views on my blog, and I know that Meghan is part of those half a million clicks. I believe my work is gaining momentum, my black girl voice, as small as it may be, does matter.
As I have always maintained, that once upon a time, when Meghan came on the scene, I really liked her, then she went to Africa, and made the trip all about herself, and that was really it for me, I saw a woman so evil, even God cannot forgive her.
Today, I want to dwell on that South African trip again, because I don’t think people fully understand how wicked she was whilst she was in South Africa. In fact, as a woman of conviction and faith, every Sabbath I bring my prayers before the Lord of Sabbath, and I use the abominations of Meghan in South Africa as a base for my prayers. And I burn incense, knowing that my prayers go up as a sweet smelling aroma.
South Africa is one of the most violent countries in the world for black girls and women, a country with a culture of rape. A country were rape is a part of life. A country were most girls and women can never go to the police to report the crime, because reporting the crime carries serious consequences for the victims, so they are forced to face their rapists everyday in the streets, whilst the rapists brag openly that they have “humbled” them, and they are told by their rapists that if they misbehave, like going to the police, they will come back and rape them again.
South Africa has the HIGHEST rate of rape in the world. For the black girls and women living in poverty in South Africa, rape is actually part of their poverty too. Black girls are raped openly, sometimes in front of their relatives, it’s so heart wrenching.
When Meghan went to South Africa in 2019, she knew about the plight of the black girl child in that country, Meghan knew about the violence that the South African girl child has to endure on a daily basis, she even went to visit the girls who have faced sexual violence, and made a speech and all.
Surely any normal person, especially coming from the West, would be moved by the stories they would hear in South Africa, especially one of the most privileged women in the world, yet for Meghan she actually saw this as an opportunity to mourn about herself, and cry that “Not many people had asked her if she was ok”, yet one of the most famous women in the world had come out publicly saying she was always calling Meghan to check if she was OK.
Back in 2018, when Meghan was supposedly pregnant and started getting the negative press, which she deserved by the way Serena explicitly went to People magazine to tell them that she was always calling Meghan to ask her how she was. This should tell you what a psychopath Meghan is, because a year later, she completely disregarded Serena and went to South Africa to claim that when she was pregnant not many people asked her if she was ok. Well Serena did, the most famous black woman did, and it’s explicitly on record, but then again, because she is a token black friend to Meghan, her concern for Meghan was obviously not good enough. She needed “many people” to ask her. And I am sure by saying “many” she meant white people.
She needed white people to care more, of which they did. Even George Clooney, a man who doesn’t even know her, risked his own clean image, voicing his concern about the way the British press was treating Meghan, but to her that was not good enough, she still claimed many people didn’t care. In life, you cant have the whole world on your side, surely isn’t a few good friends who care enough? Isn’t there enough proof out there that Meghan had a lot of powerful people ask her if she was okay…
What Meghan doesn’t understand is that in life, no matter how hard your life is, (well for her the worst thing was the press writing negative things about her, she wanted everyone to worship her), but the reality is there is always someone out there who is having it way more worse than you. For every negative headline she received, women in the UK were dying in the hands of their abusive husbands. One in three women aged between 16 to 59 will experience domestic abuse in their lifetime. In the UK, two women a week are killed by a current or former partner. It’s crazy that a woman of such position of power and influence cared more about her “problems with the press” than putting into perspective what life really is like for the ordinary women in the UK.
In 2013 when my Zimbabwean ex-husband beat me up so bad after his family had called ambulance for me to be sectioned during a church service, it was a turning point for me to do something to change my life for the better. On that fateful day of the ambulance incident, when I went home, my ex-husband’s lack of empathy for me at the cruelty and humiliation I was experiencing in the hands of his family caused me to dare ask him why, and for that he beat me and threw me on a radiator so much it broke. I called 999 and that was the day my marriage to the monster ended.
Somehow I ended up in a women’s refuge with my three young children. The day I arrived, as I was escorted to my room, I walked in slowly, in shock that my life had turned out that way, I started to cry as I couldn’t even wait for the woman to leave so I could weep in private. The woman, who was so lovely and just doing her job, stopped and looked at me, and said, “I know it’s a shock, but this is not the worst place to be dear, life will get better Jean, you will leave here, and find a house, sooner than you think.”
I tried to digest what she was saying, but at that moment, nothing made sense, I just saw darkness. When she left my room, I just sat there, whilst my children, especially my youngest son who was only four, got excited jumping on the little bed on the corner of the room. My Zimbabwean ex-husband was the worst father and provider, he would give all his money to the church at the expense of his children, so my little boy was so happy to finally have his own bed. He didn’t realise that life was changing for him, that he was now in a women’s refuge with his mother. To him, life was but an adventure and he was just excited to be in the refuge, somehow I dried my tears and drew strength from the excitement of my baby.
I looked up and saw a painting on the wall, which said, “Happiness is not a destination, but a journey.” The message made so much sense to me, as I was comforted seeing my little boy so happy to be in the refuge. I then gathered myself, and took the children outside to have a look around and meet the other women.
I then found myself talking to a British Nigerian woman who was the first to welcome me to the refuge. She was so open, and started telling me her ordeal. She had fled Nigeria to come to the UK, after being beaten by her husband, and had lost some of her sight, so much she needed medical attention in the UK. As a British citizen, she had managed to convince her wealthy Nigerian husband to buy her a holiday to Dubai, but on her way back, she came to the UK to literally seek refuge from her abusive husband and never returned to Nigeria. As she narrated her ordeal to me, crying, her eyes blood red, she was such a mess, telling me how her husband used to beat her, throwing her down the stairs, telling her he wanted to kill her, how she was so ill from the beatings with severe headaches. I remember comforting her thinking, wow she has had it worse than me, I have never been beaten to the point of losing my sight.
My Zimbabwean ex-husband used to beat me up as I already wrote on my blog before, he once beat me when I was pregnant with my first child, he sat on me and chocked me, punching me so hard in the face, I remember going to work with a black eye and lying to people that I had fallen and hurt myself as I was too ashamed to tell anyone that I had been beaten by my own husband. I was young and naive and wanted to maintain a rosy picture. But as I comforted and listened to this British Nigerian woman in the refuge, who had been so traumatised by her husband, I knew my domestic violence ordeal was not as traumatic as hers.
The women’s refuge was a learning curve for me. There were about 8 women in the refuge, and each of their stories was so harrowing, it made me feel totally ashamed of myself, I felt like I didn’t even have a story which warranted me being there. One Somalian woman had been kept as a house prisoner by her husband, beaten and raped and it took one day, where she pretended to put rubbish bin bags outside, and with her two little children, she escaped and ran for her life, like how Tina Turner finally escaped Ike. These are real life stories that happen on British soil, mostly to women of colour, and no one even knows or writes about it.
Though it was still very hard for me in the refuge, and alone I often cried myself to sleep, but I drew strength from knowing that I was surrounded by women who had been through worse. I stopped mourning, and hardly ever shared my story with the women. I started organising prayer meetings, and activities for the women and children. The women in the refuge, despite their challenges held on to their faith. They still prayed, and believed that one day God would make the world better for them.
It was actually in the women’s refuge I discovered that I could have some purpose in other women’s lives. My son turned 5 in the refuge, and I did something that had never been done before in a women’s refuge, I organised a party for my boy, using the little money I was getting from child benefit I bought treats and balloons and brightened the place up. I took my daughter and my Nigerian’s friends daughter and did a little dance routine with them to encourage the children, and mothers. And what a glorious day it was in the refuge as my son turned 5, the children laughed and giggled all the way through our dance routine.
My point is, if I could go in a women’s refuge, when I had been beaten by my ex-husband, and abandoned by my own family, yet in a women’s refuge I felt so compelled not to whinge but rather I had to be a ray of light to the women who had had it worse than me.
Then can someone please tell me, what right Meghan Markle has, as one of the most privileged woman on earth, a woman who has never had a man lift a finger at her, or sexually abuse her, what right does such a woman have to go to Africa and whine about how “hard” her life is. Is that not an insult to African women, and to God as well.
People can not understand my anger at this woman, but that’s okay, because my God who told me to go to war with this Jezebel understands. He is the one who has equipped my hands for this battle. What Jezebel did on African soil was unforgivable, she spat at every blood tear of the African girl child.
Yes, I do not take lightly a filthy rich white woman with power who goes on African soil to mourn about herself, when she is in a position to change the world and make it a better place for women in excruciatingly painful circumstances. I do not take lightly a white woman who claims to be a humanitarian, yet when she goes to Africa she takes a TV crew to talk about her first world “royal problems.” For that reason every Sabbath I burn incense in my house, and ask the Lord of Sabbath to bring Meghan Markle down, because she deserves to fall like Jezebel fell, and I will not stop until she has completely FALLEN…
The Genesis of The Revelation By
Mary-Tamar was Jean