The Day

I smiled when you spoke to me

I felt the worried look you gave me

A smile definitely wasn’t what you expected to get from me

But I have no other reaction; nothing else to express except this smile

For that which I feared the most had happened

Finally, I had lost you…..

Maybe if you died I won’t feel this much pain

But you were right here, yet I was convinced you’ll never be with me again

I don’t remember when you walked away but I know you left

All that is going through my mind are the times I spent……..

Waiting at the window, willing to hear the hoot of your car horn

Sitting up and hoping you come home to me

Wishing I don’t smell evidence of where you’ve been when you give me an awkward hug

Dying for you to just look into my eyes and smile happily, genuinely

Longing for you to touch my face and tell me how much you missed me

As you hold my hand and lead me to our couch telling me how your day was.

I prayed fervently for you, held your hand when I sensed something was wrong because you stopped telling me things

I longed for Sundays because that was the only day you stayed with me for more than a few hours thanks to church and weekly lunch at your brother’s house

I got dressed for you and made sure I was never bigger than a size 12, just a dress size bigger than the size 10 I was when we got married

I cooked your best meals yet you stopped eating

Every night you returned and simply walked into the room claiming to be tired

You used to hold me when you sleep, even if it’s just my hand

Like you needed an assurance I won’t disappear during the night but you began to sleep with your back to me

Sometimes I sensed that you were awake and I called out your name softly in the dark but you stayed quiet

You no longer took calls beside me, claiming it’s from the office

Since when did official calls become so important on weekends?

I got tired of lying to your colleagues’ wives when they accused me of not coming to a gathering organized by the office

When the truth is you never even informed me

Sometimes I felt you staring at me when you think I’m not looking

Your look is of sadness or guilt or anger

And I long for you to just tell me what it is, something, anything!

I used to be able to say anything to you but I was afraid to ask you this one thing

For the first time in 13 years I have known you, I was afraid of the answer you’d give me if I asked you what was going on

And now you gave me an answer, the answer to a question I didn’t even ask

On the day I have the best news ever,

The day I confirm that I’m pregnant with our first child after 10 years of marriage and 9 years of trying

The day you tell me that another woman just had your baby………….

The Enemy of Freedom

I’ve always wondered what it means to be truly free

I hear people talk about freedom or I read it in a book and I think “what exactly is freedom?”

When I came across the picture above on pinterest.com, I instantly thought “true but almost impossible”

Are we ever truly free from anything, even that which supposedly makes us genuinely happy?

I’ve often tried to paint a picture of what absolute freedom is to me and I always come up with different images; to live sin free, to be able to excel easily at my career, to be extremely wealthy, to fund a charity that feeds and clothes over a thousand people daily, to be able to go to any place I want at any time not worrying about the cost of travel and the list goes on.

But is that really freedom or just a desire for fulfillment? Do they complement each other or are totally different?

From the first part of the image above, I gathered that “the enemy of freedom is responsibility” because can you really do whatever you like?

This may be funny but think about it, “what if the things that make me feel free will inevitably affect the lives of others I should cater to?”

For instance, if I’m married but because I’m a Makeup artist who specializes in costume/theatre Makeup and I love adventure and travel, I just get up, pack up my bags and decide to join a circus in America or Moulin Rouge in France and leave my family behind because that is what makes me happy or free? Really?

My point is I’m not sure there is absolute freedom; we remain slaves to our beliefs, society, responsibilities and expectations others have of us. Can we ever be truly rid of any external influences or control?

In spite of these thoughts, I'm not cynical or hopeless- I don’t believe anyone should sit down and dwell in frustration, darkness and anger; I believe that you can make a change if you’re not happy with where you are; I believe that even as we try to carry out our responsibilities we should aim for progress and peace of mind and I believe beyond a doubt that every human was created with ‘a void’ that can be filled only by fulfilling your purpose or living your dream. *(however a lot of people have got the purpose thing twisted but it’s not my calling to correct that in this post).

On being Yellow, having an Afro and going braless

In the past three to four weeks I’ve been thinking of three things; being light skinned, turning my hair natural and being a feminist. I intended to write on these issues and suddenly I started seeing articles on these same things everywhere- if it’s not on a blog, then it’s an interview, rants on twitter or randomly discussed amongst friends.

Recently I saw a tweet which said “dark girls will be extinct by 2020” and it was really funny. But it’s almost true and I won’t say this is anyone’s fault, it’s just the way the world wants it. In an interview recently, author Chimamanda Adichie said “There’s no dark-skinned woman who is a babe. There just isn’t. The dark-skinned woman, she is the Serious One. She is the Friend. She is the Sassy Girl. She is never the person we root for.” She was referring to marginalization of dark skinned women in Hollywood (you see even television doesn’t help) Look at the so called successful Black girls like Beyonce, Halle Berry, Rihanna or Keri Hilson these women are YELLOW! Standing next to me they are NOT of the black race, period!!

Let’s bring it home…..Omotola, Rita Dominic, Tonto Dikeh and even the ladies I run into at the mall or on the streets are NOT dark skinned. A close friend of mine was at a wedding recently and she said the guy on her table didn’t make conversation with her because she isn’t yellow (and believe me this woman doesn’t have insecurity issues, she was simply stating what she noticed and experienced).

I have no solution to this complexion problem; neither am I against being light skinned, I’m simply stating our ‘recent troubles’.

And rocking kinky hair has now become the order of the day, there are even conferences for natural hair lovers where they discuss products and maintenance and the rest. While I have major respect for ladies who rock this look perfectly, I don’t possess the power to be that committed to my hair so weaves, braids and getting a perm will remain my friends.

There’s a ‘trending’ image nowadays, an image of a ‘freedom fighting bohemian styled kinky haired chic that knows her rights and questions every pattern society has created which naturally favors men over women’. WHY? Why do we have to succumb and become the stereotype we claim to be fighting? I went to an event on gender recently and how women need more attention in business and all but after we’ve been saved and delivered from the evil clutches of culture and the men folk what happens? What do we do with it or what have we done so far?

Maybe I’m a feminist (at least that’s what people call me when I begin to argue some issues) but I don’t go overboard by conforming to a certain unchanging mentality or try to have a certain look so people can be intimidated by me. What does it even really mean to be feminist?

People have associated feminism with ‘No sense of humor, equal rights fighter, career junkie, unmarried, hostile, bitter, man hater, unattractive’ and the dirty list goes on but this is not who I am and I can say the same for other females I know who recognize and exercise their rights.

It shouldn’t be about a look, a stereotype; or why can’t the husband cook his own food; people shouldn’t label you ‘a fighter or angry kid’ just from the few sentences that come out of your mouth. It’s acceptable to know who you are and your rights but it’s NOT a competition between genders.

But I just need to add this…….as much as sisters have love for each other, guys you too stop toasting only the light skinned-I-need-you-in-my-life-to-survive-babes, you’re making life difficult for some chocolate-skinned-independent-babes) Thank you!

LOL