Our Hands by Ann Akinjirin
Do you want to know the body part that Iām most insecure about? Ummm
Iām actually embarrassed to say, itās silly
Butā¦
Itās my hands! I donāt have soft hands.
When I was 14, at that age when the shift is happening. That shift, that seemingly overnight shift, where I went from not noticing or frankly giving a fuck what people thought about me to hanging on to every word.
I went to shake someoneās hand. In a large group, innocently and politely, I gave them my hand and they flinched. They pulled away so quickly and in front of everyone, at the top of their lungs, they said
āYou donāt have soft hands!ā They asked
āWhy are your hands so rough?ā Andā¦
I didnāt have an answer, because not only did I not know⦠but I didnāt know! I didnāt know that my palms werenāt soft. It was the first moment I realised that other people must have palms that felt different to mine. That moment the seed was planted that if I offered someone my palm, they may flinch
I was 14 and Iāve never forgotten
And so the body part that Iām most insecure about isnāt my bum or my height or my stomach or whatever the fuck! But itās my handsā¦
From that moment onwards, every time I fell in lust or love I never wanted people to touch my hands⦠until I met
You
When we were moving from strangers to lovers, I started my usual dance of avoiding hands. The subtle sway and redirection of my palms when I noticed that your hands were journeying towards mine. But one day, just before I had the chance to move, our palms connected and I froze. Iād perfected these moves over the years and the excuses but you could see through me. You saw into me. You saw me.
āDonāt you want to hold my hand?ā You asked
My inner 14 year old self looked to the floor. I just couldnāt meet your eyes, as I had to admitā¦
āI donāt have soft handsā
You put your hand to my chin. You touched my skin to lift my gaze to yours and you said āYouāre perfectā
Offers hands
(To audience) You saidā¦
(Youāre Perfect)
Oh mayn! I was done in from that moment! Finished!
My hands fit yours; I donāt want to say like a glove, itās not like that. They fit like⦠I dunno, snug?
And I was smug about it! So smuggy smug!!
Like my hands were formed to fit perfectly into the gaps between yours and the texture of my palms were made to compliment yours and only yours. They were made for you!
They were just waiting for you Perfect!
I love the journey our hands go on.
The way that, my hands especially, get to love you And how I get to be loved by you through yours.
I love the way you hold my hand
On Sunday mornings we do my favourite thing. We sit on the sofa, silently together, and we read. Seemingly separate but always connected through our hands. Iām touching the nape of your neck and your hand on my knee.
Silent Separate Together
And then we find palms. Your thumb always softly strokes my hand when our fingers are combined
You are so funny. Iām going to be bold and say youāre the funniest person I know. We laugh until our stomachs hurt and I curl over, hand to your chest and giggle
Hard
I curl into you and we are enveloped in laughter. Your hand on the back of my head
Laughing Touching Together
And then we hold hands. Our fingers intertwined⦠I love the way you hold my hand Your face
Thereās a special way that your face feels on my fingertips
Whenever youāre confused your nose wrinkles. I giggle just seeing it in my mindās eye Your nose wrinkles and it gives you away.
My index finger smoothes out your nose with a stroke and you catch yourself
I love the way my fingers can comfort you
Uncomfortable Comfortable Together
I hate being close to people in bed. I donāt get how people do it? How do they do it?
Iām so hot and sweaty and I just feel trapped. So I always start in an embrace but then itās like a race for me to see how quickly I can unwind from you as soon as you nod off. But I always awake, always! And find that no matter how far away I am from you in bed your hand would be touching me. Whether it was my back, my legs sometimes even just the tip of my fingers
Tip to tip! Just perfect
Your hand always finds me in bed
Apart Connected Forever
Even when we argue we are touching My impulse is to walk/
To run away
Immediately
Far away
But you grab my hands and you say
āWe may be fighting but we have to stay connected I donāt want you to let me go!ā
You say, āI donāt want you to let me goā (I donāt want you to let me go)
My heart!
I first notice we are drifting apart because our hands arenāt meeting
Even when they do, there is something about the way that your hands twist that makes mine feel like they donāt fit
They donāt fit?
They donāt fit yours!
Thereās something about your energy shift thatās making me feel my palm against yours. They donāt feel soft anymore
I can feel them
Iād never felt them, with you
But your palms are rejecting mine
Together Touching Resisting
Whatās happening?
Your hands donāt want me like the...