The chink in his armour

When I moved here for school, I invented new insecurities to bring along with me. 

I thought, for the first time I'll be the black, African girl. I've never been 'black', never even been African; I'm Nigerian! I thought, well, I'll show them we're not that different just because we have different skin colours. I thought, would anyone ask me if I lived in trees, like they did my brothers? I thought, my accent. Will I adopt one? No. I'll just enunciate. No, I'll just edit out slangs. No, I'll just not talk too much. No, I'll just ... see how it goes. Yes. See how it goes. Will I meet any hot white guys? What'll that be like? Uh oh.

And so, when I got here, I disappeared.

Striving for neutral is the worst thing you could possibly do. 

Neutral emotions, neutral opinions... a universally accepted position that does not exist. 

We're all hiding under our own perceptions, having somehow convinced ourselves that everyone expects us to be an imaginary version of ourselves.

A few weeks ago, hours before it was due for submission, I allowed myself to write a story about home. I didn't know what I was doing; I'd only meant to try out the elusive thing that is Plot. 

The comments I got in class helped me realise that there was more to it... and a week later I took out my weave. Yes, because it was time, and yes, I would have anyway, but this time I allowed myself to leave my hair out for longer than I normally would have. And, to my surprise, I was okay. After a few days I actually forgot that I looked any different, until people commented on it.

And then I wrote pidgin and Oyedepo into my next story.

In class on Wednesday I watched writers connect with emotions they'd tried to hide from. Ashamed of our vulnerability, we employ different techniques for covering them up. We all live with insecurity; we all feel like maybe we're not good enough. All of us do, in some way, which means nobody is perfect. Nobody is a hundred percent confident, or self assured, so nobody is superior to, or better than us. 

So why are we so afraid? 

I'm going to put another weave in, because I like them. Because, now, I'm no longer hiding under the extensions. I will not always write about home, but now, I'm no longer restricting myself to seem neutral. I still do not want to be exoticised for my culture, but I no longer care - not as much, anyway.

But no, no hot guys yet.

PS: The 'Witch for Jesus' was real. See: