We should all be feminists
You ever watch a clip on YouTube or hear a story that pierces you to your core? I felt like that when I listened to a Ted Talk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie in class. A fellow Nigerian like myself, Chimamanda talked for about 30 minutes about life as a Nigerian woman. Adichie's life is a crucible mixed with the toxic chemicals of male misogyny, domestic violence and ignorance among African men. Adichie's survival of this crucible is commendable, but unfortunately it's not the norm for most Nigerian women.
According to a Thomson Reuters Foundation report, Nigeria is the ninth most dangerous country in the world to live in.
In an online article by The Punch, the Nigeria-based newspaper said the country ranked sixth for its cultural practices that were harmful to women. Those practices included stoning, forced marriages, acid attacks and genital mutilation.
I'm going to put a name to what all this appears to be. Evil. I believe there's a pervasive evil that exists there. I've heard too many dark tales about my homeland for it not to be true. Stories so crazy you wouldn't believe it.
As an African male, I feel so guilty for the part I've played in this foolishness. I tried my hardest to hold back tears as Adichie talked about how women are objectified and treated like objects for what seems like every minute of every day. I'm guilty of doing the same things she spoke so powerfully and sternly about.
A talk that lasted approximately 30 minutes seemed like an eternity to me. Everything she talked about and I mean everything was convicting, sobering and so real. A woman growing up in Nigeria is a nightmare. A nightmare that my mom and us children experienced as kids growing up in America.
Luckily, our household had one thing that held it together through all nightmares. Love. Before my father passed away in 2007, I'm discovering what appears to be a scavenger hunt trail littered with stories about this love. I'm floored by the love our father had for us. Sadly, I can remember a lot of things except my own father ever saying those words. He was a chameleon of emotions, and the way he showed his love for us kids looked vastly different then the cuddly "Valentine's Day" love that's celebrated in this country. That's a blog post for another time.
In summary, my father's actions showed his love. The same actions that I hope are being woven into the young hearts of my people back home that will usher in a much needed wave of change. When my father moved his wife (pregnant with my oldest sister Pamela) Florence, to America it was love that allowed two immigrants to make it to America in 1983. It was the love my mother had for four kids that motivated her to work countless jobs she NEVER wanted to work. It was L-O-V-E that keeps our crazy family so scattered, and yet so intact.
As we were leaving class that day my girl Emily gave me my daily and necessary punch in the nuts. She got on me for using the word "beautiful" too much. I'm assuming she believes I was using it in a surface level way, however that was not my intention. Beautiful, by its connotation, is a noun. So beautiful is a person, place or thing. Anything can be beautiful. A flower, a brown-nosed squirrel (I love squirrels so much) or a meteoroid can be viewed as beautiful.
Bottom line is we need grace. Period. On all topics. The quicker we all realize it, the faster change will come. The slower it takes, the longer evils will prevail. The same evils so astutely highlighted by Adichie, my Nigerian Queen.
According to a Thomson Reuters Foundation report, Nigeria is the ninth most dangerous country in the world to live in.
In an online article by The Punch, the Nigeria-based newspaper said the country ranked sixth for its cultural practices that were harmful to women. Those practices included stoning, forced marriages, acid attacks and genital mutilation.
I'm going to put a name to what all this appears to be. Evil. I believe there's a pervasive evil that exists there. I've heard too many dark tales about my homeland for it not to be true. Stories so crazy you wouldn't believe it.
As an African male, I feel so guilty for the part I've played in this foolishness. I tried my hardest to hold back tears as Adichie talked about how women are objectified and treated like objects for what seems like every minute of every day. I'm guilty of doing the same things she spoke so powerfully and sternly about.
A talk that lasted approximately 30 minutes seemed like an eternity to me. Everything she talked about and I mean everything was convicting, sobering and so real. A woman growing up in Nigeria is a nightmare. A nightmare that my mom and us children experienced as kids growing up in America.
Luckily, our household had one thing that held it together through all nightmares. Love. Before my father passed away in 2007, I'm discovering what appears to be a scavenger hunt trail littered with stories about this love. I'm floored by the love our father had for us. Sadly, I can remember a lot of things except my own father ever saying those words. He was a chameleon of emotions, and the way he showed his love for us kids looked vastly different then the cuddly "Valentine's Day" love that's celebrated in this country. That's a blog post for another time.
In summary, my father's actions showed his love. The same actions that I hope are being woven into the young hearts of my people back home that will usher in a much needed wave of change. When my father moved his wife (pregnant with my oldest sister Pamela) Florence, to America it was love that allowed two immigrants to make it to America in 1983. It was the love my mother had for four kids that motivated her to work countless jobs she NEVER wanted to work. It was L-O-V-E that keeps our crazy family so scattered, and yet so intact.
As we were leaving class that day my girl Emily gave me my daily and necessary punch in the nuts. She got on me for using the word "beautiful" too much. I'm assuming she believes I was using it in a surface level way, however that was not my intention. Beautiful, by its connotation, is a noun. So beautiful is a person, place or thing. Anything can be beautiful. A flower, a brown-nosed squirrel (I love squirrels so much) or a meteoroid can be viewed as beautiful.
Bottom line is we need grace. Period. On all topics. The quicker we all realize it, the faster change will come. The slower it takes, the longer evils will prevail. The same evils so astutely highlighted by Adichie, my Nigerian Queen.
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