Hands in dark soil —
gold glints between old stories.
Who’s the thief, who’s free?
You’ve been called many things.
By strangers. Acquaintances.
Even the ones who claimed to love you.
You listened. Let their words pinch your skin.
Turned them over. Tried them on.
Wondered which were yours, which were thrown.
Then you saw what you should have seen sooner:
projection.
From people nursing wounds that weren’t yours.
People choking on regret.
People who saw your life and recognised the freedom they’d buried in themselves.
Two words stuck.
Not because it fit.
Because of how casually it was said —
and how much it assumed.
Gold digger.
So ask yourself:
If you’re the one digging, and you strike gold,
what does that make the one handing it over?
What do you call the man with pockets full of shine,
eager to trade it for youth, for presence —
God forbid, even love?
Is he not part of the deal?
Or does the system excuse him,
call his power earned
and yours stolen?
Gold digger isn’t neutral.
It stains — but only in one direction.
It tries to shame the woman.
It spares the man.
You’re told not to judge.
You try.
But if judgement must fall,
let it land on both.
Or better — name the system:
The one that demands women stay quiet
while men perform.
The one that calls your hunger manipulative
and his indulgence natural.
The one that built the economy of intimacy —
but only audits your account.
If you dig and strike gold, maybe you’re resourceful.
Maybe bold.
And if he gives, maybe he’s generous.
Or maybe he’s bargaining —
for something neither he nor his defenders will name.
Every transaction says something.
So why pretend only your voice needs explaining?
Is a gold digger the same as someone digging for gold?
Or has your financial clarity become a threat?
What if you both know what you’re doing?
What if you’re both getting what you came for?
What if you’re not the one squirming?
Maybe it’s the watchers.
The ones who label. Reduce.
The ones who wouldn’t dare switch mines.
Who wouldn’t know how.
Because everything’s a transaction.
Not just money.
Mind. Time. Love. Labour. Attention. Worth.
The things no one tracks — until you have them.
So here’s the question:
What do your transactions reveal?