Surviving My Late Twenties: Self Harm/Suicide **Trigger Warning**

I have, in the past, associated self-harm and suicide with an intrinsic self-loathing and hate for one's life- not just the breath within the body, but the people, situations, and circumstances that collectively make up a person's existence. It was until my recent experiences with both self-harm and suicide that I realized that self-loathing is only one possible reason why anyone would want to inflict pain on themselves, or even the ultimate, death.

While going through a particularly low point last year, I had an experience where I was triggered by a loved one. I remember feeling pain and becoming short of breath while I was crying in by bedroom. I don't remember ever feeling anything so intense, it was as if there something tearing me apart from inside which I needed to let out so I could finally breathe. Still short of breath, and with shaky hands, I went into my closet and got out a pack of cigarettes that I'd bought earlier that week. I lit one up and took several drags, enough to get halfway through the cigarette, and then, without thinking twice about it, I put out the cigarette on my arm.

It hurt like hell, but then again it felt like I'd finally let out the thing eating me up from within. Even if only for the time being. It was worth it. I wasn't crying anymore. I was back in my bed and feeling a lot calmer.

I'd never self-harmed before that. I mean, I'd played around with candle wax for the fun of it, but never as an attempt to relieve me from emotional pain. This was new, and the relief I got from doing that scared the shit out of me so that a few days later, I signed up with an online therapist. She helped a little bit but I had to let her go by the end of the year.

I didn't hate myself; I don't hate myself. I have dealt with issues of self esteem/worth in the past, and if I'm honest, I'm still yet to be comfortable with the idea that I am a fully worthy human being. However, that was not the reason why I had inflicted physical pain on myself. Perhaps low-self worth and self-harm are linked, but if you had asked me that night in my room, I was just seeking relief from what felt like an unbearable sensation. (And I guess it's counterintuitive to fight pain with pain, but what can I say? It made sense to me then, and it helped.)

I feel the same way about suicide. I was suicidal between ages 8 and 9, and had attempted suicide twice during that time. I'd been going through a lot of pain at home (related with my mother) and didn't want to deal with it anymore. I believe that was around the same time my uncle had sexually abused me for the last time. As you can imagine, I was dealing with a lot. In hindsight (and because I'm at that place again), I feel that I had given up the will to live, because shortly after the failed attempts to take my life, I became sick, inexplicably so. I remember my parents being afraid of losing me, and the fact that the doctors could not find anything that was medically wrong with me further pushed my parents into their misery.

I definitely didn't hate myself at 8 and 9. I was just a kid who had felt enough shit to be fed up with life already.

I mentioned that "I'm at that place again" with reference to the will to live. I don't feel attached to my life anymore. This lack of attachment has nothing to do with hating myself, or hating my life (even though it's not quite where I want it to be), it has everything to do with the fact that I just do not want to be here anymore.

There was another attempt on my life three or four weeks ago. It involved sleeping pills and whiskey. While no damage was done, I do know that if I'd had taken at least three more pills in addition to what I'd swallowed that night, then I very likely wouldn't be here.

Alas, I'm here, and still not interested in being here.

Surviving My Late Twenties: Losing the Love

The relationship I alluded to at the end of my previous post seems to have crashed and burned. This morning, following two days of exchanging words, I was blocked on WhatsApp - the medium that was our primary means of communication due to the distance involved (he's in the U.S., I'm in Nigeria, and there's a 6 hour time difference.)

I had a strong feeling of sadness one evening, two years ago, shortly after we had become a couple. He asked me why I was sad, because I'd begun to sob, and I told him that I had just gotten 'the feeling' that he was going to leave. I don't remember what happened after that, whether he reassured me or not, but I do remember that he was understanding and non-dismissal of what I was feeling. **he did leave, for the U.S. exactly a year later**

These were the qualities that had made him so special to me. The things I had to constantly explain to people - about myself, a situation, or life in general, he just always seemed to get and understand. Perhaps because he had more life experience than the others before him, after all, there was a 15 year age gap, but that didn't matter because he got me. There was also a great deal of patience, and tenderness. Being with him felt like being home, and this is perhaps one of the lessons life is trying to teach me; you can't make/find a home in others, especially when there are still parts of you you haven't opened up to and accepted yet.

Speaking of parts of me I haven't accepted, apparently I had changed, I had become bitter and he wouldn't have bitterness in his space. Yes, I have changed, and I am still changing. Life really did me in last year, and it apparently is still at it. After spending so much money and time and energy applying to go back to school (for a PhD), 4 out of 6 institutions have turned me down. So my backup plan (after leaving my job) is really hanging by the threads here. Of course with all the rejections and growing uncertainty of where my life is headed, it's hard to be peachy, and so I don't blame him, and frankly, I don't blame myself either.

I want to make a case for myself; that while I am not entirely happy with my life situation, 'bitter' is quite an exaggeration of my general state of being at this time. It hurt to be called that, especially by someone who I thought knew me, and had definitely seen me when I was at my best. I find myself doubting that he even knew me at all.

I know that I would have let that relationship go a long time ago if I didn't feel like needed it, and perhaps I did. However, it's gone now and since I have exhausted my tears in the last few months, I have none to shed. Also, I get "the feeling" that I have not seen the last of him yet, so maybe it's too soon to cry him a river. We'll see.

Surviving My Late Twenties: Quitting the Job

There is nothing like a capitalist holiday to remind you of all the ways your life is not going as it ought to. Alone again on Valentine's Day, what's new?

It's 2018, and so far, nothing has happened to convince me, or at least indicate, that the year will be different from 2017. And, dear god! 2017 has been the most emotionally daunting year ever, only to be compared to the Summer of 2005. 2017 was dark and heavy and filled with unhealthy coping mechanisms and suicidal thoughts and therapy and a few respites, enough to keep me hopeful, enough to keep me going.

I survived. I am here. And 2018 is not looking different. Or maybe it is, because I decided to quit my job last week. Something I should have done since last year, because, you see, if I had to list the situations in my life that completely threw me off balance and left me disillusioned in 2017, then my work situation would be on the very top of that list. But, you see, work is something you cannot live without. Okay, maybe not work, but definitely a steady means and stream of income, especially if you're to survive on the grid. So, I continued to show up, even when my spirit was so broken that I would often cry on my way to work. I showed up, and frankly, I gave it my best.

Two weekends ago something shifted into place. Monday morning came, I went in as usual, only this time, my first task was to draft my resignation notice. I turned it in before the day ended, and that was that.

I used up most of my savings too apply for graduate studies shortly before the holidays, so this means that I damn near broke and will most definitely be living with mom and dad again. None of that scares me, if I am being honest. Or, perhaps, none of it compares to the relief and the feeling of freedom which I am now enjoying. There is also a familiar feeling of assuredness and certainty which I often get when I have done something which deeply honors me. Of course it's unclear what lies ahead, but if I made it through 2017, I am certain that there is nothing in my path which I won't crush, or gleefully glide over, depending on what the situation calls for.

Saturn Return

Did I already mention that it is also my Saturn Return? With that in mind, a lot of what has happened in the past year does not seem unprecedented. However, I find myself wondering that if I have already dealt with so much before Saturn even hits the exact point it was at the year of my birth, what other difficulty could the Universe possibly cook up and dish out? I am not daring or even preempting the Universe here, just honestly wondering.

For a person who often needs to be in control and certain of all things at all times, leaving a decent job to fall back on nothing at all is sort of an extreme sport. However, I feel that this is a necessary step in my becoming, and I need to learn to embrace uncertainty anyway. Needing to know what will happen in order to protect myself from unpleasant surprises has not really stopped those surprises from coming, or even adequately prepared me for handling them when they did.

Happy Valentine's Day. Maybe one of these days I will write about losing the love of my life in the shit-storm of a year that was 2017. I wish you all the love and peace.

Note to Self

I was reading through Brain Pickings tonight and stumbled upon this beautiful letter from W.E.B. Du Bois to his 14 year old daughter in 1914. I cried. The affirmation he gave his daughter poked at me deeply. However following the advice he gave to her towards the end of the letter, I choose not to "pine for what is not", but rather enjoy this beautiful letter and the absorb as much wisdom from it as I possibly can. 

Dear Little Daughter:
I have waited for you to get well settled before writing. By this time I hope some of the strangeness has worn off and that my little girl is working hard and regularly.
Of course, everything is new and unusual. You miss the newness and smartness of America. Gradually, however, you are going to sense the beauty of the old world: its calm and eternity and you will grow to love it.
Above all remember, dear, that you have a great opportunity. You are in one of the world’s best schools, in one of the world’s greatest modern empires. Millions of boys and girls all over this world would give almost anything they possess to be where you are. You are there by no desert or merit of yours, but only by lucky chance.
Deserve it, then. Study, do your work. Be honest, frank and fearless and get some grasp of the real values of life. You will meet, of course, curious little annoyances. People will wonder at your dear brown and the sweet crinkley hair. But that simply is of no importance and will soon be forgotten. Remember that most folk laugh at anything unusual, whether it is beautiful, fine or not. You, however, must not laugh at yourself. You must know that brown is as pretty as white or prettier and crinkley hair as straight even though it is harder to comb. The main thing is the YOU beneath the clothes and skin — the ability to do, the will to conquer, the determination to understand and know this great, wonderful, curious world. Don’t shrink from new experiences and custom. Take the cold bath bravely. Enter into the spirit of your big bed-room. Enjoy what is and not pine for what is not. Read some good, heavy, serious books just for discipline: Take yourself in hand and master yourself. Make yourself do unpleasant things, so as to gain the upper hand of your soul.
Above all remember: your father loves you and believes in you and expects you to be a wonderful woman.
I shall write each week and expect a weekly letter from you.
Lovingly yours,
Papa

Confronting My Fears: Marriage

Two days ago I asked my older sister why marriage was the topic that [seemingly] dominated our conversations - mine and hers, as well as mine and others'. She answered saying "because it's happening a lot among people in our age group." This made sense, and I began to wonder why I hadn't thought of it prior. 

Since reducing my Facebook visits to once, at most twice, a week, it seems like a week doesn't pass by without a marriage related updated. This often includes proposals, weddings, and new births. On a really good week, I find all three lined up on my homepage as if someone was deliberately taunting me. 

If nothing else, the regular updates from my [Facebook] friends support my sister's claim that a lot of people in my age group (25-30) are getting married. Though these marriage related updates have nothing to do with me directly, they do have some implications for me. The most annoying, which many singles in the aforementioned age group can attest to, is answering questions from relatives and family friends about when my turn will be. 

The other implication, that is apart from worrying about purchasing too many aso-ebi's at often too high a cost, is thinking (often worrying) about how I don't want to get married and how I can possibly avoid it altogether. Indeed while I rejoice with and for people I know who have taken this bold step, they're often a reminder of deep seated fear I have. 

I do not come from a broken home. My parents have been married for thirty-five years, they say they're happy and I believe them. They have raised their three girls along with at least three other children from deceased siblings, and have done a tremendous job at it. As far as role models are concerned, I believe I have good ones. Note, this is not to say that my parents' marriage has been ride in the park. I would be lying if I said that there weren't circumstances in their marriage that have fed my fear.

My fear is largely fed by the rate of infidelity and [physical] abuse that happen in marriages and how they seem to be ignored by parties within and outside the marriages. Below are some cases of infidelity and abuse that I have come to be aware of:

Case 1: a newlywed, at most two months into the marriage cheats while out of town for a short while.

Case 2: in their second year of marriage, this woman finds out her husband has denied her and his child to a woman he was dating 

Case 3: in this marriage, most arguments turn into a fight where the woman is at the receiving end of the beating. Ten years and counting

Case 4: an argument between the couple in case 2 heats up, and the husband hits his wife. She was pregnant with their second child. 

These are only three marriages but I know more, with similar issues. I see/hear these stories and I think why the hell would I want to get myself in such a situation for? I am certain that there are other circumstances in these marriages that I am unaware of, but are these circumstances so good as to make up for [continued] abuse and/or infidelity?

If I can neither trust nor be safe [which is an issue of trust] around the person I am married to, why would I want to stay in that relationship?

I don't undermine the support that spouses provide, or at least, are supposed to provide each other. And I have come to understand that marriages serve a higher purpose than the solidification of a romantic relationship between two people, however my fear still stands. And no, thinking that if I do get married my marriage would be an exception does not help either. I can bet one or both parties in the aforementioned marriages believed their marriages would be different. 

What's more worrying is our society's up-turned nose towards divorce. It's almost as if once you're in you can't get out no matter how bad the situation gets. There's some religious basis [in Christianity at least] for that, but I strongly believe that the need to shame others in order to feel better about ourselves also drives our general attitude towards divorce. As such, my aunt who has been in a physically abusive marriage for ten years has stayed put, in spite of both families (hers & his) being aware of the abuse.

Perhaps we have come to take for granted the deeper significance of marriage and as a result have no regards for the greater consequences of our actions within the institution. Perhaps romantic love alone is not sufficient to sustain our marriages, and we need to seek deeper to find what will? Or maybe this is really what marriage is *cringes*,  and dealing with issues like these and somehow not losing one's self is the test that married couples are supposed to endure?

Here’s what I have come to believe: marriage has [seemingly] become a mere societal expectation we're supposed to fulfill upon reaching, and exceeding a certain age.  It is not necessarily clear why we should do this, and it seems we largely don't care [and if we do, then we are not talking about it enough]. As a result there are many failed marriages where parties involved have resorted to living out the rest of their lives in misery, very likely due to negative attitudes [at least in this society] to divorce.

While writing this I had an epiphany that has surprisingly resolved some of my doubts. It occurred to me that it would take two people who understand and agree on what the purpose of marriage is for the marriage to work. They also have to be willing to fully participate and take seriously their roles and responsibilities within the institution in order for it to function properly.

If the above is the key to a successful marriage, or at least gets couples on the right track, then I’m aware of a few couples who need to reevaluate their relationship. And don’t even get me started on hopeful singles who need to question their understanding and willingness to perform within the institution.

My Anti-Christmas Spirit

I find that I always have a reason to dread the holidays.

When I was a kid, I dreaded the holidays because it was a family gathering, an extended family gathering. For my little chubby self then, it meant dealing with a lot of teasing about my weight, the color of my skin (being the darkest kid), and my gap-tooth/thick lips. They were probably "just jokes" from my family members. But as a little girl they made me feel different, not a good kind of different. An ugly kind of different.

So along with contempt for my looks, I grew a contempt for the family gatherings which were as a result of the festive season.

Fast forward to about ten, twelve years later and I still have a not so cheerful outlook towards the festive season. Albeit for a different reason than when I was a kid.

I can't seem to place a finger on when it started, but somewhere between my late teens and early twenties, my family began doing too much for the festivities.

What is too much?

In my household we start preparing for Christmas precisely a week before the actual Christmas day. And no, it is not that large a family. My family stopped the tradition of travelling to the village for Christmas so it no longer is an extended family gathering but a household of no more than eight people.

The idea was that if we started a week early, then there won't be so much to do on Christmas eve and on Christmas day. We were bamboozled.

All the baked goods are prepared a week before Christmas. And the days leading up to Christmas are filled with one prepping activity or the other. So shopping; running family errands, which often include day trips to the village since it is barely two hours away from the city we reside in; and other activities that my folks can find to keep us busy.

All the activities leading up to Christmas day have not stopped us from being up past 12 midnight on Christmas morning preparing for all the meals that would be cooked later. Not in any recent year I can remember anyway. So despite filling the days leading up to this 'glorious occasion' with activities that are supposed to lessen our burden, we still somehow manage to end up doing a lot on Christmas eve and plenty more on Christmas day.

We often manage to make it to bed by 1:00 a.m. and get up latest by 7:00 a.m. From then on it's an endless day filled with one chore/errand or the other. Throw in at least 3 hours of church; preparation of no less than three meals; attending to guest who roll in and out of the house; serving food to neighbors who must be fed even though they are capable of feeding themselves, and then you might be close to understanding why I am not a big fan of the holidays.

The problem here is a lot of these activities are done under compulsion, and thus whatever joy I have coming into this season is sucked out by the fact that I have to spend hours working and working and working for something I don't even believe in.

I know my blessings in the midst all these, and I acknowledge them. But I find that continually come back to a place where I can't seem to see the point of all the frantic activities. Perhaps because I am somewhat of a minimalist, I like simple things. Or maybe I am just a lazy person who does not like to leave her bed on cold harmattan mornings. Or maybe I'm not just as crazy about the birth of an ethnically Jewish  revolutionary who lived many years ago, just like you don't see me sweating over the birth of Muhammad, or Buddha, or all the other wise teachers who are too numerous to name

Whatever the case, while many people around me seem to be lost in the activities of this season, and what I consider a "false/forced cheer" (because I dare you to be as cheerful all year!), I find that I am constantly hoping that it all quickly passes so I can get back to the normal pace of things.

Merry Christmas. Or whatever.

Marriage & Sex: between a rock and a hard place (yes, pun!)

Three years ago I met a man who quickly sparked my interest. He was not the most physically attractive man that I had ever met or gone out with, but what he didn't have in looks he made up for with intellect, wit, and a profound understanding of human behavior. He was well read, and as that time, was rounding up a PhD dissertation in criminology, I believe.

Our conversations revolved mainly around politics, conspiracy theories, terrorism, religion, and the likes. It wasn't always so serious, we did try to get to know each other, which, speaking for myself, is where the most fun is. Over the years I have developed an interest in listening to people talk about themselves, you can learn a great deal about how a person perceives themselves by what they say about themselves. And often, we learn to treat others based on their perception of themselves which is reflected in the way they speak about themselves.

I digress.

Ol' dude was married, a minor detail I picked up at the end of the second date. The other minor detail, his three kids, I found out about later. When I confronted him about seeing other women behind his wife's back, he quickly told me it was something he could do if he wished. After all, his religion allowed him to have more than one wife. I shrugged it off. It wasn't my place to fight his wife's battle. I, however, didn't want to see him again, something I made very clear.

What I found interesting about the encounter, and what is most relevant to this post was something he said to me in an attempt to get me to allow him see me again. He out-rightly told me that he could not sexually engage with his wife the way he wanted to, because she would not be opened to the things he wanted in the bedroom. However he believed that I was a "progressive" and "modern" woman who would be more inclined to satisfying his sexual fantasies.

I was recently reminded of that experience and began to ask the following : how much of our so-called sexual desires (or fantasies) is influenced by the media? And in serious relationships that often tend to end in marriage, how important is it to be honest about the things that we find sexually satisfying? People's attitudes towards sex, and their perception of it are different, and often influenced by the values and norms of their societies. At least they are, until there is an exchange of ideas between people from different cultures, as is now being easily facilitated by the internet.

That said, I am mostly more interested in the latter question. The world has gone nuts, and the people with it. Or maybe it's the other way round. Whatever the case, I'm of the opinion that when choosing partners it is important to be completely honest about everything. Yes, sex included. I'd rather deal with a relationship that fails because we are sexually incompatible than deal with infidelity in marriage. Which, as I have found, is how some people choose to deal with their incompatibility.

Whether we're for it or against it, people are influenced a lot by the things they hear, watch, and read. [I'm tempted to blame the internet for the world going nuts, but even I have a great appreciation for the internet and the purposes it has continued to serve in my life.] The people we might be engaging with might be into somethings (sexually or otherwise) we are not, and us, things they are not into as well.

My advice? Proceed with honesty. Of course it is important to establish trust in your relationships before delving into the delicate issues. Said delicate issues need to be discussed in a safe space, and a safe space is crucial for honesty. People begin to panic and lie when they don't feel safe, and I think that's exactly what we are trying to avoid.

Learning to Say 'No'

My sister's anxious message interrupted my thesis writing to inform me that a mutual friend of ours who is getting married was on her neck to purchase the attire (aka aso ebi) for the wedding day. Problem was, my sister couldn't afford the aso ebi and wouldn't take on a debt, y'know, collect the material and pay for it later, and she didn't know how to break the news to this friend of ours.

The solution I offered was this: tell her you have other financial obligations and would rather not take on a debt.

Simple, right? Apparently not, because I have been in the same spot before, and due to my inability to say no and stick by my no, I did assume the debt and was so close to being humiliated by the lady to whom I was indebted. And this was just a year ago, I ended up missing the wedding because I had to leave town for a few days, which was really okay because the tailor screwed up my dress and I didn't want to wear it out in public.

Anyway. In the past year I have learned so much about being my authentic self at all times, trusting my feelings, and setting boundaries. What these three things have in common is that they often require me to say 'no' more often than I usually would. So in being authentic, I'd have to say no to my ego when it to start to take over control of my thoughts, words, and actions. In trusting my feelings, I'd have to say no when I am not comfortable with a person, an arrangement or a situation. And finally, in setting boundaries (which is a point of weakness for me), especially when dealing one-on-one with a person, I have learned that it is important to be clear about my expectations from my interaction with whoever it is, and not to allow the boundaries I've drawn be violated. For me, in the past this meant saying no to many people and situations which I didn't always have the courage to.

Even having learnt a lot about being true to myself and saying no, it is still somewhat of struggle. Often because I want to be 'nice' and not hurt anyone's feelings, which begs the question, 'who is taking care of my feelings if I am busy violating them so that others can be happy with me?'

Perhaps there are other root causes, but I have found that the inability to say no, or the desire to please everyone but ourselves, is rooted in our self-worth or the lack thereof. So it's a situation where you are only able to value yourself when your words/actions are validated by others. In which case you'd do anything- even things dishonoring to yourself- to get that outside validation because that is the only way you can feel good about yourself. This often translates into our fear of how others will react when we say no to them.

Or maybe it's not that deep. Maybe we were just never taught to say no. Which begs the question, 'are't we then as adults supposed to be able to say no without feeling some type of way about it?'

I advise taking the time to be introspective and consider where our difficulties saying no stem from. Once we are able to figure that out we can proceed by taking the necessary steps we need to in order to be able to honor ourselves and say no when that's what really needs to be said.

From personal experience I can say that the 'necessary steps' moving forward have included being truthful- first to myself, and to whoever I'm dealing with, and not letting the other person's [expected] reaction deter me from doing/saying what I believe is most honoring to myself.

TED Talk: Growing Your Own Food!

The Universe conspired and planted on my path this gem! One of my favorite TED Talks, but you're gonna have to watch to find out why.

On Meeting Gender Expectations

First of all, this is not a feminist post and I say that because one could easily dismiss whatever I’m going to say without actually taking time to think about it if they considered it to be just another feminist rant. It is not.

What this is though is the pouring out my frustrations with the young people of my generation [dare I say society?] Yesterday I came across a quite cleverly written status message on Facebook. It read: “At the age of 25, you cannot cook, sweep, wash clothes and you want men to accept you for who you are...Sister please.. Who Are You???” I found it interesting enough that I wanted to read what people had to say in the comment section, and there was indeed, as I expected, an interesting debate going on. I read through all the comments and wasn’t surprised by anything I read. They were mostly things I had heard before. However one comment posted by a guy caught my attention, it made me pause and think for a bit. The comment read “Any man who can't do these things for himself doesn't deserve a wife who can.” I liked it and went about my business. 

As I laid down to sleep at night, I remembered the status message and the responses. It was at this point I got pissed. Why? I’ll tell you. The idea of gender roles is something I’d always known about but have only recently accepted and if I may add, still adjusting to. So of course I know what is expected of me as woman, and thank heavens for the mother I’ve got, I believe that I am set to run a household. I have no problem in that regards. 

What I do have a problem with though is how women are the ones who always get picked on for not being able to fulfil what their gender demands of them. It becomes more of a problem when the people doing the picking on are young men who are clueless about who they are, still reliant on their parents and have no idea what is expected of them as men, prospective husbands and fathers. These are the same group of men who want their women to look a certain way, talk and act a certain way. They are ones who demand the highest from these women, and because God is no fool, these women are the ones who cannot meet those demands. 

As a result, they become embittered and resentful then begin to categorize women as being “all the same” but what they really mean by that is that the type of women they desire are all the same, you know, without any housekeeping abilities. That’s just one part of the problem though. 

The second part of my problem is that when a woman lists out the things she expects from a man, she is usually told to shut up because she is being unrealistic, or too demanding or a gold-digger, and by the way, she's told, there is no such thing as a perfect man. Uhm, m’kay. 

I refuse to accept that though. If I am able, as a woman, to meet the expectations set aside for me by virtue of my gender to the letter, what excuses you, dear sir, from meeting the requirement of your own damn roles? If I am to go by what I grew up seeing thanks to the example my parents set for me, then I’d expect that any man who wants to marry me will be financially stable, have a house of his own (whether he’s renting it or not), be able to cater to my needs and those of a child in the first few years of our marriage, and as time goes on, more children. Which means that he’d have to be ready to save a lot or find and work jobs that pay higher than the one he’ll be working in our first years of marriage. 

Now wait till I put those demands as my status message on Facebook and see the kind of responses I’ll get. Why are our expectations put down and perceived as asking too much? Why are women expected to “manage” men, why aren’t men ever expected to manage women, you know, the ones who can’t meet up with the expectations?

Maybe it’s time for women to stop being “managers”, maybe we should begin to demand for men to meet the requirements of their gender before we settle down with them. Maybe then, there’d be less women who assume the role of both father and mother in our households because there’d be actual men in the houses. Maybe then we will have a chance to properly raise a generation of children that can save our society that’s fast falling apart. 

Maybe, but until we’re ready to have that discussion, miss me with all your expectations.  

Dealing with Abuse

Sometime last week while engaging in random conversations with a guy I recently met, he made an observation about me that no one - literally no one I've met - had ever made. I was taken aback by it at first, and then my defense mechanisms kicked in, and I countered his observation with a question to which he responded and left me shocked, yet again.

What my guy friend observed is that I was dealing with abuse. In a bid to hide my shock which might have indicated he was right, I said he could only have deduced that about me if he was dealing with abuse as well. He did admit to being abused and being the person I was, I wouldn't leave the matter at that. I asked questions.

His aunt had abused him several times while he was just a child, an all too familiar story but with opposite characters. By the time he hit puberty, he had grown addicted to pornography and masturbation. He told me about having to get himself to recover from all that, and the how difficult the process was for him. He is 29 years old.

I was shocked and ashamed when he told me. Shocked because I had never met a man who was abused (or maybe I have and just don't know), and ashamed because a woman like me had done that to him. While I know his experiences had nothing to do with me, I felt shame and that was the only explanation that came to mind as to why I would feel ashamed. Aren't we supposed to be the guardians, the nurturers?

I know about abuse not particularly because I lived through it, but because I now have three people who have trusted me enough with their experiences. It makes me wonder just how many people I know who are walking around with this ugly past.

The first time I heard about another experience other than mine, it was from a girl I had gotten close to in college. She told me how her uncle fondled with her privates, and not only hers but her younger sister's as well. I now realize that I could have spoken up about my experiences to make her feel less alone in this, but I didn't, a decision I now regret.

What I am seeking to understand is how do people recover from this? Many times it feels I never grew beyond that point in my life. Like a part of me is still trapped in the past. I can't get get closure. One of the people who know this about me urged me to come out to my family, because he believes it will help me in dealing with it, however, it will be a very very difficult conversation and one which I don't feel like I am ready to have yet. Even though I can talk about it with other people, I can't discuss it with my family. Not just yet.

Any survivors of out there? How did you deal?

I Can Not Not Be a Feminist..Or So it Seems

So I stopped identifying as a feminist. It's hard to say if it is going to be permanent because a part of me still identifies with certain feminist ideas, and I guess it always will.

I chose feminism because it was an outlet for the anger I had suppressed all my life. An anger that I haven't quite dealt with, but I'm learning to, one day at a time. It was very easy and convenient to call myself a feminist and go H.A.M on anything or anyone that was even slightly misogynist. The truth is, I did not like what I did, not even one bit. Interestingly, I didn't know that I didn't like the angry girl I was.

Shortly after I realized how I had been using feminism as a channel for my emotions, I was hit with another realization, and this pushed me further away from identifying as a feminist. I was thinking through a couple of things and it occurred to me that there might actually be some sense in the existence of various gender roles, and basically, men and women were not made to be compete against each other, but rather, complement each other. It didn't make sense to me then, if we were made to complement each other, then why am I, why are we fighting this war of the sexes? This bugged me for a while because I knew the answer. Men seem untouchable, especially if they have just raped, abused or treated a woman unjustly, as if that is not enough, the women victims are blamed; women are denied opportunities for being women, not for being incompetent, etc.

So while a part of me saw the point of the feminist movement, another part of me was beginning to see how pointless it was.

I tried to analyze it in my own context, that of an African, and a Nigerian woman, because I believed that would make a lot of difference, and it did but slightly. I came to understand that for me feminism might mean fighting different battles than my American or Asian counterparts, but battles nonetheless peculiar to women. Our struggles were different but there was no doubt that some of them might be the very same across borders, so I took into account the geographical differences as well as a difference in cultural values.

I am a 23 year old Nigerian woman, and it is expected that I should be making plans, if I haven't already, to "settle down"..in my husband's house and bare kids, and do whatever else is expected of married women. As much as I understand that none of this is bad in anyway, I have fought it in the past. Probably because we (women) are expected to be defined by our husbands. It is as if we can't be individuals in our own right, we move from being our fathers' daughters to our husbands' wives. At any point a man must claim ownership of us.

So here I am seeking balance. While I don't identify with many issues feminists in other parts of the world may be dealing with, I am stuck dealing with a few of my own that are just as peculiar to me. It is difficult for me not to see the point of wanting to fight for better opportunities for myself and other women, yet, at what cost?

Do I wish rape culture wasn't promoted by victim shaming/blaming? Yes. Do I wish more girls would have access to schools and not be denied due to the fact that they are females? Yes. Do I wish there were (stricter) penalties for rapist/child abusers, especially in Nigeria? Yes. Just how can all that, and other issues be dealt without being labelled as feminist?

One good thing that has come out of all this is my willingness to be more than just a couch-activist for women's issues. So yay, I guess.

Fear & Religion

Is religion based on fear?

Clare Carlisle: Bertrand Russell – part 3: Christian thought is itself aware of the dangers of fear – something Bertrand Russell overlooks in his critique of religion

The most powerful aspect of Bertrand Russell's critique of religious belief is his claim that religion is based on fear, and that fear breeds cruelty. His philosophical arguments against the existence of God may not touch the lives of many ordinary people, but his more psychological point about fear has to be taken seriously by all of us. In his 1927 lecture "Why I am not a Christian" – delivered to the south London branch of the National Secular Society – Russell expressed his point with characteristic clarity: "Religion is based primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. Fear is the basis of the whole thing – fear of the mysterious, fear of defeat, fear of death. Fear is the parent of cruelty, and therefore it is no wonder if cruelty and religion have gone hand in hand. It is because fear is at the basis of those two things." No doubt he was preaching to the converted on this occasion.

There are actually two elements to Russell's diagnosis of religion here. The first is that religious belief is a symptom of fear: aware that our lives are precarious and vulnerable, we seek the protection of a powerful deity, to comfort ourselves with an illusion of safety. The second is that fear is a symptom of religion: in particular, doctrines of punishment in both this life and the next cause ignorant believers to live in fear unnecessarily. There is little doubt that this analysis has some truth on both points; perhaps it explains quite accurately the causes and effects of religious belief in a significant number of cases. But do such cases represent religion itself, or are they a distortion of it?

We will focus here on Christianity, since this is the tradition that Russell was mainly concerned with. While Russell argues as if his rejection of fearful belief and fear-inducing dogma comes from an atheistic perspective, the Christian tradition itself contains a vigorous critique of fear. The First Letter of John, for example, puts forth the basic tenet that "Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love", and suggests that fear and love are incompatible with one another: "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love." In fact, Russell echoes this sentiment in a 1912 essay on "The Essence of Religion, where he writes that "fear tends more and more to be banished by love, and in all the best worship fear is wholly absent." But he did not need to appeal to any biblical text in arguing that "fear is the parent of cruelty", because it is a basic psychological fact that love is inhibited and distorted by fear.

In the 17th century, Spinoza – whom Russell described as "the noblest and the most lovable of the great philosophers" – invoked the First Letter of John to attack the persecution of non-conformists by the Dutch Reformed church. The violent dogmatism witnessed by Spinoza is exactly the sort of thing emphasised by modern atheists who claim, like Russell, that religion is a harmful force in the world. But Spinoza attacked "superstitious" forms of religious belief, which are characterised by fear, as a dangerous perversion of a purer Christian teaching found in the New Testament. Prefacing his Theological-Political Treatise with a verse from the First Letter of John, Spinoza implied that the church was failing by precisely those Christian ethical standards which it claimed as its own.

Another example of a Christian critique of fear can be found in Kierkegaard's analysis of the theological concept of sin. Traditionally, pride has been identified as the fundamental form of sinfulness, but Kierkegaard argued that human psychology is darkened by an inseparable combination of pride and fear, which both get in the way of love. This means that the Christian ideal of love requires us to battle against both pride and fear, to combine humility with courage. According to Kierkegaardian theology, fearful religion is sinful religion.

These two brief examples suggest that the Christian tradition has the resources not only to recognise the dangerous consequences of fear, but to scrutinise them closely and provide a spiritual response to them. However, this is not the sort of perspective that Russell was prepared to explore in his philosophical work. He was certainly unwilling to invoke the Christian doctrine of original sin – presumably because it was closely associated with the Victorian moralism that, to Russell's disgust, lingered long into the 20th century.

But his atheist disciples may be surprised to discover that privately Russell found some meaning in the concept of sin. In his autobiography he describes a visit in 1952 to a small Greek church, where he became aware within himself of "a sense of sin" which, to his astonishment, "powerfully affected" him in his feelings, though not in his beliefs. If Russell had followed Kierkegaard in paying more heed to such "feelings", he might have come closer to understanding that fear is a religious problem, and not just a problem with religion.

Culled from: theguardian,com: http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/belief/2013/dec/02/bertrand-russell-philosopher-religion-fear-christian

Nagging

When you hear the word ‘nag’ or ‘nagging’ I am pretty sure the image that comes to mind is that of a woman, and why not? Women are society’s naggers. Or at least that’s what I’ve come to believe. The idea however that every nagging individual is a woman, or that men don’t nag is a rather false one which I believe many people choose to ignore because, there’s nothing that can be done about it, and, they (I’m talking about men here) are not the face of nagging otherwise something would have been done to change that.

What people fail to realize about nagging is that it’s a two way street. An article on The Wall Street Journal stated that the partner being nagged is just as much part of the problem as the partner doing the nagging. The writer goes further to say that women are more likely to nag “…largely because they are conditioned to feel more responsible for managing home and family life. And they tend to be more sensitive to early signs of problems in a relationship. When women ask for something and don't get a response, they are quicker to realize something is wrong.”

At this point I’m beginning to wonder why I can’t get a response when I ask the first time, and the article provides an answer “men are to blame, too, because they don't always give a clear answer. Sure, a husband might tune his wife out because he is annoyed; nagging can make him feel like a little boy being scolded by his mother. But many times he doesn't respond because he doesn't know the answer yet, or he knows the answer will disappoint her.”

What I’m gathering is that in a bid to prevent a bigger problem, nagged-partners choose to ignore provide unclear responses or none at all to the nagging-partners who continue to demand for responses to a point where it becomes a problem for the nagged-partners. Which begs the question, why not just answer them already?

In discussions about relationships where nagging is involved, the part the nagged-partner plays never comes up, for me this paints half a picture. It creates the illusion that the nagging-partner has some issues he/she needs to work through. What I am pretty certain about is that it has to be annoying to remind someone to do something over and over again. And I’d ask that next time we are tempted to accuse our partners of nagging, maybe we should take a second to see just how we are aiding the process.

Mind Control via Sex

This Sunday a friend of mine (who happens to be a guy) sent me this article. I LOLed at the the entire thing, especially of the second paragraph, then continued till the end. I was delightfully shocked by it, I won't even lie. I saved the link and read it first thing Monday morning, but my feelings about it had changed. I became skeptical, and the red flags started going off: STIs, unwanted pregnancies, HPV, and what have you. But something else kept replaying in my head: the thought that this is probably why, or at least one of the reasons why (some) men call us (women) devils.

It's written by a Toni Nagy. Read, and be dazzled.

Want to hear a secret? It’s a good one. Some might call it epic.
You know how, as women, we are constantly being reminded to enhance our appearance and increase our sex appeal so men will be attracted to us? How millions of straight women spend billions of dollars on clothes and beauty products to peacock around for some guy burping at the bar? How long has it been since you’ve really thought about how much time we spend waxing, manicuring, preening, primping, sometimes resorting to surgery, and wearing undergarments that treat our buttcheeks like teeth with corn stuck in them?

If you’re doing this to entrance the menfolk, will you believe me when I say you’re completely wasting your time? We already possess the key to attraction, and the door is located in the hoo-ha.
The vagina is a sorceress concocting magical potions; the hormones our pleasure box produces have a power that is being tragically overlooked. I recently watched “The Science of Sex Appeal,” a documentary explaining the influence that copulins—vaginally secreted hormones—have on men. Here I learned about one fascinating experiment, in which scientists created synthetic copulins for men to inhale.

Yes, really. Isn’t it nice to think that science took the time to both fabricate and administer cooch scent through a gas mask into the faces of male guinea pigs? I think it’s pretty nice. For one brief moment, balance was achieved in this universe.
So: while inhaling the fragrance of a woman’s front bottom, the male subjects were shown photographs of women with varying degrees of conventional beauty and asked to rate their attractiveness. The findings were remarkable. While huffing even the synthetic scent of clam dish, men were unable to discern or rank women’s beauty.

In other words, everyone’s sexy when a man’s wafting on twat.
How is it possible that this study wasn’t widely released, its results instantly becoming common knowledge among women? If ball sweat had these powers, men would not only be harnessing it and using it regularly, but also mass-producing it to yield high profit margins. It’s obviously high time I manufacture a fragrance called “L’eau de Snatch.” Smell like muff and you’ll be sure to attract men, should that be your goal.

And, it gets better. Not only does this particular scent enhance the perception of our beauty, copulins have actual mind control effects on the male brain. When a man is exposed to a woman’s copulins over time, she is eventually able to:
1) Change, remove, or insert memories
2) Tell the male what he sees, hears, feels, smells, tastes
3) Insert subconscious thoughts that will surface as male "ideas" or behavior later
4) Plant trigger words or actions that can cause thoughts, actions, or sensations in the male at later dates (days, weeks, even months)
Any man still reading this may be saying to himself, “What the F? Nothing is capable of turning me into that much of a zombie.” Women, you may be saying to yourself, “How might I go about doing this?”
Here’s how. The process is called “coupling.” A man has to be inside you, but not thrusting. You lie together like puzzle pieces, and:

While the penile duct is being opened, the vaginal walls begin secreting a much thicker fluid, thicker even than the fluid holding the penis in place. The fluid is chemically attracted to semen. In short, the fluid enters the penis, follows the semen down the shaft and directly into the gonads. This process can take as long as fifteen minutes, and requires that the vagina produce up to and exceeding 100 milliliters (a little less than half a cup) of this fluid in order to completely fill the penile shaft and gonads. This is over twenty times as much fluid as is ejaculated by the male during sexual intercourse.

Feel free to visualize this process. You’re welcome for the lovely picture of half a cup of fluid flowing down a guy’s pee-hole and nesting in his balls.
Perhaps you are thinking, “How do I get a guy to hang out inside me while also resisting the instinct to thrust back and forth?” Good question. You have two options.
The first is to be honest. Tell him what you are doing, make him a willing participant, and then go feed that unicorn.

The second is to be discreet and distracting. It takes time for your nectar to stream into him, so the fastest and most effective position is lady on top. My advice is to have sex but then don’t get off of him. Play it cool. Talk about upcoming global warfare, ask him to explain the rules of a sport you hate, or simply pretend to fall asleep because he was “that good.” [Ed. note: The Hairpin does not necessarily endorse the act of pouring vaginal secretion down someone's urethra to control their mind without their prior knowledge.]

After 15 minutes, the copulins have been released like a pack of wild dogs. They travel from his balls up to his hypothalamus. He is now fully susceptible.
Once a hypothalamus is flooded with copulins, the male brain is just sitting on idle, with only the bare minimum of thought process. In this state, the male is probably not thinking of anything at all, but any input from the female will become the male’s singular focus.

The implications are pretty wild. Under the influence, you can suggest acts for him to perform. I recommend staying within reach of his moral compass, but from there, the sky’s the limit. Testimonials are remarkable. Copulin-infused men not only comply with the requests of their women, but also do so happily. Men and women alike attest that “coupling” has genuinely improved their relationships.

While it’s fantastic on a micro level that men can became better partners, I can’t help but think of the bigger picture. Imagine if we get the wives, girlfriends and mistresses of male members of Congress to couple their way into some much-needed legislation getting passed in this country?
Are you ready to change the world?

Find the main article here: http://thehairpin.com/2013/09/one-weird-trick-to-control-your-boyfriends-mind

TED Talk: Saki Mafundikwa

Seeing as I started the day by reading about the many exploits my ancestors did, I was delighted when I stumbled on Suki Mafundikwa's TED Talk on "Ingenuity and Elegance in Ancient African Alphabets"

Nutrition: Carbs and The Carcinogenic Acrylamide

I stumbled across this video late last week,  and it seems to reiterate everything that has been said about eating carbs (in large quantities) only difference is the inclusion of the formation of acrylamide in fried/roasted carbs.

Learn more about this here and here