The Hottentot Venus, Saartjie

I heard about Saartjie (“Sarah”) Baartman a while back. To me, she was just another black person from history. The celebration of black history month has brought some awareness of certain individuals and awakened the story of Baartman again. You should watch Venus Noire. It is her story (At least, the little people know).



Cindy Lou stared at the huge black woman in front of her. Her buttocks were massive and, surely, she should have some back pain from those breasts.  There was no way “this” was human, talk more a woman. Women were pale skinned and pretty, small and gentle. Demure. That was what made men want them. This…this was none of that.

Her nostrils flared as Saartjie clapped her hands and stomped to a tribal song.

She resented Charles for bringing her here, but he was always the one for odd and strange things. It was dark and about time they left; the children would need kisses before bedtime. She looked around for Charles, calling his name in her little high pitched voice. The noise from rattles and men cheering drowned her tiny pitch.

She suddenly felt faint and needed some air. A lot of air. She smiled a knowing smile. These were the symptoms that she was with child. Charles would be glad. She would get some air, outside, where the breeze blew and the night was cool from snow. Their carriage and horseman sat a few feet away from the entrance to No 225 Piccadilly street. Charles would know to look for her here.


“My Lady.”

Cindy Lou wakened. In a deliberate lady like way. “Charles? Where did you go? Has the show ended?”

“Nowhere. I was behind you with Sir Ogilvy and his brother. It ended hours ago darling. You must have been extremely tired.” He climbed into the carriage and sat next to her.

He was sweaty, even in the foggy, cool night. He also smelt of something familiar; a certain scent he gave off when they made love at night. Another smell was mixed with his love scent. It was the smell of sweat and fat and skin. It was the smell of blackness and she knew where it was from. She turned to stare at Charles as their carriage drove into the night. He ignored her and looked at his fingernails instead.


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