A friend of mine is fond of making fun of sapiosexual people.
I wonder how that makes him happy. Interestingly, he embraces same-sex relationships but cannot make sense of how intelligence is a turn-on. I don’t bother trying to explain it to him; he’s intelligent enough to get it. He just can’t be bothered.
My point however, is it is what it is. He is a valued friend; one of the few people I can share my strangest thoughts with and not feel like a psychopathic killer. We just can’t agree on sapiosexuality.
And that’s fine.
There are a lot of things about me that make people uncomfortable. I accept that. There are a lot of things about me that make some of the people I hold most dear not know what to do with me. I accept that too. I accept these things because I’ve come to understand; just because people do not understand or like a particular thing doesn’t make that thing automatically bad.
It just is what it is.
But; and I can tell you this for free – I did not always understand that. I would have friends, we would fight and I would spend time agonizing over the fact that I have done it again, whatever ‘it’ was supposed to be. And sometimes, I would ask such friends and they would be unable to explain what it was to me. So I thought maybe it’ll be best if I stopped having friends. No friends, no heartbreak. And for a while, I was okay.
And then, as it happens in fiction, I fell in love.
That particular romance shaped a lot of me. I had someone who bothered, who took the time to know me for me, and not based on what someone said or whatever his expectations were. I knew what it felt like to be loved and accepted for who I was.
It felt like I imagine heaven to feel. It. Was. Everything.
Of course, I have flaws and I continually work on making them better. However, there’s a clear difference between bad and unusual/different. A lot of us are unhappy because people are not accepting of us because we don’t meet their idea of perfect. We continually try to fit ourselves into boxes created for us but we don’t belong in and it’s killing us slowly. Daily, we unintentionally commit slow suicide.
That’s no life.
We must learn to embrace ourselves for who we are. Again, to be clear – that is not to say ‘be rude if that’s who you are’ or ‘be an asshole’ and so on. It’s okay to not like Game of Thrones. I don’t. It’s okay to not care for Avengers Infinity War/Black Panther and the rest of those things. I do – and that’s fine either way. Be good to yourself sha, we’re all going through stuff and you deserve to be happy.
You’re beautiful, and your scars are nothing but beauty marks. Enjoy them.
That Gender Equality Bullshit II
Pick A Struggle, Biko.
Before I proceed, look at this picture:
To provide context, that is one of the promotional posters for X-Men: Apocalypse, one of the worst X Movies I have ever seen.
But that’s not the point.
The big guy is En Sabah Nur aka Apocalypse, the guy hailed as the first mutant. In his hand is Mystique, a female shape-shifting mutant. They are on opposite sides of the war, which is why he would be choking her
That poster raised the ire of some ‘feminists’ and ‘human rights groups’.
It promotes violence against women.
It isn’t a lie, is it? Why would anyone want to promote a movie by having a man wrap his hand around the throat of a woman? Isn’t that what they/we’re fighting for?
It is wrong, right?
But; aren’t we supposed to be fighting for gender equality? Those two up there aren’t friends; neither are they lovers. They are people on opposite sides of a war; and in war there are casualties of both sexes, aren’t there?
Someone should have told those hot-blooded feminists; context is everything.
I mean, if she was given preferential treatment because she’s female, that would be sexism, wouldn’t it? He treats her the same way he would treat her male counterparts, it’s violence against women. It’s like asking that female soldiers be shot with special bullets – just because they’re female.
You see why people like me often find feminism confusing? Pick a struggle, biko.
That was just the intro; I said that to say this:
A few weeks ago, it was announced that Dr. Who, that British Time Lord who has thrilled English people (and people worldwide) for decades will be portrayed in its thirteenth incarnation by a female. Of course, a number of reactions trailed the news. I wasn’t bothered however, because I know the history of the character. The Time Lord is supposed to be genderless; it was written into the show to allow for continuity in spite of time and explain the change of actors. In fact, I honestly wonder(ed) why it took so long. It’s been coming since forever.
Around the same time, gist about some ‘Women Liberation Front’ People agitating for a female James Bond surfaced. The first I heard of it, it was because Chris Hemsworth had seen Atomic Blond, that Charlize Theron movie and said she would be an amazing Bond. Honestly, I’m pretty much indifferent to the dude. He’s cute but can’t act for shit. That said, I was disappointed. I mean, I would expect him know better.
I’m sure he was trying to pay her a compliment – but he didn’t think it through. If he had, he would have realized agitating for a female Blond is not a compliment to Charlize, neither is it a fight for equality; it’s appropriating a well-known male figure and forcing him into a female mold.
Now let me ask you; why would you want to do that? Is that you don’t think female characters are strong enough – therefore only by appropriating what has been male for so long is the only way to make women relevant? Don’t you know that by doing stuff like that, you’re actually being sexist?
As an aside; I love Kemi Adetiba to death – but the title of her show/program King Women is something I frown at. I love the show, I’m a fan of several of the women who have been on it – but that title is the summation of everything wrong with that side of the ‘gender equality’ war; women can’t achieve greatness on their own pedestal (Queens Regnant; that is – ask Google), they have to come into the men’s arena (Kings).
Or maybe I don’t understand the thinking behind the title ‘King Women’. I stand corrected.
Remember Lara Croft? How about Salt? How about that great lady, Agatha Christie’s (debatably) greatest creation; Miss Marple? How about Wonder Woman? How about Major Motoko Kusanagi of Ghost in the Shell? How about Linda Ikeja? Genevieve? Sally Kenneth Dadzie? Tomi Adesina? Ogechi Nwobia? Elsie? Joy Isi Bewaji? Beyonce? Melissa Macarthy? Angelina Jolie? Scar Jo (even though I don’t think much of her acting skills)? Ellen Degeneres? Can’t you be great, successful, fucking wealthy and be utterly, undeniably female? Honestly, this kind of thinking is the bane of gender equality – because whether you know it or not, you’re saying there’s no value in being female; there’s something wrong with being female. Like; once you have a vagina, you’re doomed; and the only way out is to try to be male.
It’s the same thinking that makes people ascribe the success of Wonder Woman to ‘GIRLS ROCK!’ and not an amazing character given an amazing story, played by an amazing actress and shot by an amazing director.
No. It’s only because she’s female and we haven’t seen a female-led movie in forever. Hm.
Just yesterday I read on a friend’s Facebook post that some person said chivalry stemmed from chauvinism and therefore should be eradicated.
SO, there’s something wrong with a man being nice to a woman.
Okay. Fair enough.
Yet, if a man behaves around a woman the same way he does around his male friends, there’s a problem. He’s barbaric; animalistic and male. You understand the confusion yet?
Pick a struggle, biko.
Let’s not go into the double-standard conversation. Let’s not go near the whole it’s-only-rape-when-its-done-by-a-man-to-a-woman gist. Let’s not talk about how it’s flirting when a woman does it, it’s sexual harassment when a man does the exact same thing. Oh, let’s leave out all of that.
Please. I’m just asking for clarity. What does gender equality mean; the equality of a species or the ‘get-out-jail-free-card for women when they are in generally inconvenient situations?
I’m just asking. And from one human to another….
Pick a fucking struggle, BIKO!
Of the many, many tragedies that taint my well-lived life, the one I probably regret with the most frequency is the fact that I don’t have a lot of pictures of my mother. I only have about two or three; not as much as five.
I don’t know; maybe it has to do with me not being much of a picture person. I’m the guy who disappears from groups when it’s time to take a picture. I don’t know; something about pictures just puts me off.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that I have to smile when I don’t feel like it (nothing personal; I usually don’t feel like it). Maybe it’s the idea that…oh, I don’t know. I just don’t like it. Whatever my reasons/excuses, they are why I don’t have a lot of pictures of her. As much as I loved to look at her; as beautiful as she was/is, it just didn’t occur to me to take more pictures of her. Despite being way into the smartphone age by the time of her untimely demise, I only have one picture of her taken with my phone. All the others are hardcopies.
It might not sound like a big deal, reading it like that, but think of the person you love most in the world. Think about the things you adore about them – like how they listen when you talk, how they hold your hand, how they call you for no reason, how their eyes light up when they see you, how they call your name – everything that makes them special to you; everything you know only comes in their package.
Now think about dealing with never seeing them again – literally.
Not that you don’t want to; unfortunately, the choice is moved out of your hands. They leave when you least expect it. They go without saying goodbye.
And what’s worse?
Not only do you have to deal with never understanding why what happened happened the way it did, you have nothing but your memories to remember them by. Not a keepsake, not a love note –
Not a picture.
And memory, even one as awesome as mine, is a frail thing. I remember thinking of my mother in terms of how she smelled, the smells I connect to my more pleasant memories of home, of growing up – coconut oil, Joy Soap and Imperial Lather. There was also one perfume – the name however eludes me now. I miss those smells – especially since coconut oil smells like plantain these days, Joy and Imperial Lather have forgotten where they came from, and home is an unfamiliar place.
If I could go back, apart from taking hundreds of photographs of this great woman, I would also make sure to record her voice. Common, one of the greatest rappers ever and one of my personal favorites, had his father frequently contribute to his albums till the man died in 2014. Imagine how comforting for him it would be; being able to touch a memory of his father whenever he felt a need to. I wish I could listen to my mother’s voice once again – but I still hear it in my head; as clear as a bell.
She’s just as warm as ever.
The physicality of my mother is preserved by a headstone, a few pictures and a letter that contains everything I need to know to live a fulfilled life. The most important things however; her spirit, her warmth, her gracefulness, her kindness – these are the things I will always have with me, the things that defined her essence.
And nothing can take those away from me.
PS: Remember those tragedies I spoke about?
They are the ink and blood that make the tapestry of an otherwise bland life colorful and interesting. They are the things that make me who I am, because no matter how tragic my circumstances have been, I always find a why to smile.
And that’s enough. I hope you get/got the message.
Oh, and one more thing:
Happy Birthday to Me.
The thing about clichés is; they’re often true.
One very annoying thing; cliché if you will, people say when things go wrong is ‘it is well’.
Trust me; I know how annoying that shit is. Here I am, tearing my eyes up over the loss of someone who gave me life and gave my life meaning – and all your tired ass can say is ‘it is well.
Educate me, how the fuck is it well?!
I know how you feel.
I also know that, for the most part people who say that shit mean well. They just don’t know the proper way to say what they want to say.
Okay, how about we do it like this – what if instead of saying ‘it is well’ they said ‘and this too shall pass’?
Feel me now?
As different as both phrases look, essentially they’re saying the same thing – no matter what is happening to you, it will pass. One way or another, it will.
Think about it. Someone has just been diagnosed with Type A Cancer – the type that cannot be cured, fuck chemo. Their world comes crashing; they die before their due date.
Who can blame them?
However, this person is in a unique position; they possess a knowledge most of us will never have; they have an idea of when they’re going to die.
Do you have any idea how powerful that makes them? They can do things the rest of us are without fear of consequence; they have nothing to lose anymore. The worst has already happened.
Their fates are sealed. ‘And this too shall pass’.
Getting the picture? I’m not trying to make light of whatever anyone is going through; and sometimes, all we want is silence instead of lame attempts at consolation. However, reality is reality is probably the most subjective thing on this side of things –
It depends on how you look at it.
Everything that has a beginning has an end. If there’s any certainty, it is that. You’ve heard the one about ‘not living seriously because none of us are getting out alive’, right?
I remember something I shared in a conversation; ‘Death has been around the longest, yet we’re still not used to it’. An unfortunate truth – but true nonetheless. And if we know, death is certain, why don’t we spend each day living, knowing what we know?
Sometimes, I feel like this life – this entire existence is purposeless. Sometimes, I wonder why I’m here, why I don’t just take a cold drink of something hot and end the freaking thing. Sometimes I wonder…what exactly I’m here for.
Sometimes I can’t figure out what the next thing is. Funny, I know.
You know what though?
Those moments of doubts are just part of the whole process. I mean, to create anything there has to be moments of doubts, moments in which you question if it’s going to work or if you’re just wasting your time. How else do you get through times less that but by stiffening your spine, squaring your shoulders and telling yourself ‘it is well’?
I assure you – everything you’re worrying about or obsessing over will soon be over. Sooner OR later. Everything; including life itself, has an expiry date. We’re all just winding down. And since they say ‘today is the tomorrow you prayed/worked for yesterday’, does it not make sense to realize that – everything will; sooner or later become history?
No matter what it is, it’ll be over soon.
So – believe them when they say; ‘It Is Well’.
Because. It really is.
I was discussing with someone on Monday, on the prevalence of suicide and depression. He said its always been bad – but we didn’t know enough to do anything about it.
True; I said, but that’s only part of it. The other part is; we’re more alone now than ever.
Think about it. I grew up at a time when there were no cellphones. No Internet. There were Nitel and Nipost – and that was it. We actually had to look for each other to hear from each other. Boys would come to my house and vice versa if there was a party in the neighborhood. Trust me, if you invited one of us, you better be ready to host all of us. Those were the days of bathing in the afternoon, stealing mom’s perfume and walking around the area hoping to run into some fresh girl.
Yeah. The days of five aside every Saturday morning, church on Sunday and rice after church. The days of Christmas clothes and…
Now, we look for each other on social media. We take posts and tweets to mean the other person’s fine – forgetting sometimes that we’re so self-conscious we’d rather act like everything’s fine than be labeled attention whores. These days in which we’re all talking and nobody’s listening. I could be in a silo for days. Drinking aftershave and crying. How would you know? Why would you care?
I’m just saying. Reach out. Let’s go see a movie. Hang out. The beach. Walk. Eat Pizza – whatever. You don’t have to walk it alone. You don’t have to do it online either. Reach out. Sometimes, all we need is just a listening ear.
I got two of those. I’m sure someone close to you does too. How much talking do you think can fill all the ears you know? At the very least, send me an email via firstname.lastname@example.org. We can start from there.
Talk. We dey here.
They said we forgot.
They said that’s how we are; we’re shouting now, but in a week or so we’d have moved on to more important things. Until the next rape, till someone else beats their spouse to death before we start shouting about domestic violence. That until the next suicide, then the hashtags will start pouring in, and the support groups will remember their responsibility again.
Until then, they say….
And for a moment – it did seem like we did. Life goes on, doesn’t it? We get swept up in our drama, our touch points – things we do to keep ourselves together. We started to talk about forged certificates and government jokes and jokers – and we let suicide slide. For a moment.
But no, we didn’t forget. How can we forget about one of ours?
It may seem like nobody’s listening; especially in today’s world in which everyone is clamoring for attention. It may seem as though we’re waiting for the next bandwagon to ride to wherever it desires to take us, the next Facebook posts, the next hashtags.
But it’s not true. We’re here. And we’re listening.
You are not alone.
#MentallyAwareNg #WeHearWeCare #SuicideWatch
I used to be very angry.
Yup. I was a very passionate young man with unlimited energy. I wanted to fix everything I considered wrong with the world. I’m sure if I was in a country where procuring guns is as easy as walking into a store, I’d have become a vigilante.
My world view was very much like Rorschach’s – black and white. No middle ground.
And, very much like Rorschach, my refusal to compromise would have gotten me killed. Undoubtedly.
Or worse – I’d have ended up in a padded room.
But because for the most part I meant well, I was forced to learn more. And the more I learned, the more I realized – there’s a lot more to life than one-dimensional perspectives. And the more I realized, the calmer I became. And the calmer I became…
Well. I’m still here.
Choose your battles wisely; the saying goes. What do you hold onto? What are you holding on to? Anger at issues that really have no consequence for you or your way of life? Irritation with people who have never done anything to you? Even anger at people who offended you is not worth it sometimes. Bare your chest – let it go.
I still have boundless energy – the people closest to me know this. But I manage it with wisdom and stuff. I would hate to have spent all my time on worthless things – and then, something that really matters comes along but I’m too spent to do anything about it.
Kinda like relationships.
Conserve your energy. Save yourself. Find something worth dying for.
And then, live for it.