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I am a good girl.

I am a good girl.

I am a good girl.

I don’t know who I was trying to convince- God, myself or the world.

But I was, fairly decent, my language was clean. Straight A student, I didn’t go for wild parties, Or get into ‘untoward’ situations with guys in dark corners.

My past times included reading, a lot! 

Beating other people at scrabble and being a member of a Christian dance club.

I went for confessions and I went for mass.

I gossiped but well, you know. I was fairly popular (it’s my size ?). I didn’t get my first kiss till my 300L and I didn’t spiral from there.

I was a good girl.

I graduated. Sigma Cum Laude. Biochemistry. I was a good girl.

Then I got pregnant and was still unmarried and entered the amazing world of Single motherhood stereotypes…

I heard colourful names. from friends & family too. I would repeat but this is a decent post.

I remember this guy who I liked a lot had gone to introduce me to his mom. She loved me, we were friends, She made me large pot of vegetable soup and served me 2 huge choice pieces of goat meat, she called me “my wife” and declared me a fitting addition to her family, then I mentioned my son, a day & a half into the one week stay and suddenly I was an ‘ashawo’ who would not look for her mate to marry, Ugly old woman who was sent out of the house.

it didn’t matter that by world standards, I was a good girl.

There is a stereotype, an immediate ‘nose raising’, the judgemental stare when you fill out the school form and your name is different from your son’s. I used to notice, I used to worry about it a lot and I used to try my hardest to show folks that I was a good girl.

I’d kiss ass & praise friends who accepted Me for “Who I was”.. the ones who didn’t “eyah” and whose next question wasn’t “sorry oh, I am sorry for asking oh, but why didn’t you marry your baby daddy?” it didn’t matter that they were thinking it. I was a good girl, and if I worked hard enough and kissed ass long enough perhaps everyone would see that I was a good girl, albeit a single Mother.

Then one day, it didn’t matter what you thought or why you thought, My lips grew numb and became averse to kissing ass and I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

Maybe I was a terrible sinner, Maybe I was an ashawo, Maybe I didnt give a fvck what anyone labeled me.

I was Ized. Papi’s Mother and proud.

That day was the beginning of the rest of my so far so amazing life.

I remember Today, because I talked to a single mom, I saw the efforts on reflex, the eagerness to explain her side of the story. she went to church, she loved him.. she just went on and on..

I stopped her & told her you better start loving yourself and stop explaining yourself,

Those who need your explanations don’t matter and those who matter don’t need it.

Be Unapologetically You.

Be Amazing.

Be your best Cheerleader

Self Love is a thing, an important thing. Soon as you decide that, you stop watching people and wondering if they are judging you because sometimes they are not, they are just curious… and even if they are…

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