Classism; stronger than racism. Has silently bloomed We fear it, we face it, and then we do it. It is simply explained as the discrimination on top of one’s social class and of course we all know that social classes are based off, wealth, income, education, occupation and of course, “exposure” or “social connections” To be honest, I still can’t
To me, regardless of whatever era we may be in, I think it is important that we all become self “awake” which in Urban lingua is “woke” ness It is amazing and interesting to see women speaking up, people baring their souls and most importantly, the awareness on mental health. Still, it feels like wounds are opening up and being
As I write this, I think about the famous quote “once you go black, you never go back” I transform that to “once you go dark, you never go back” This might be a call for help. Maybe. Might. Just maybe. I remember a date I went on and I was asked what I think of mad people. I respond that no
I am nervous… It is a Friday morning and I realize the jacket my stylist made, doesn’t exactly fit Naomi(Me), well still, I rise! Long story short, I am on my way to the Ake festival; dressed in an Ankara jacket, a short black dress and the most painful sneakers on planet earth. I arrive at the Mike Adenuga Center and I’m feeling less of Naomi and
Sometime last week,my dad said to me “I don’t understand your ways this girl.” My ex once told me also “you’re like an enigma, just like onions, every layer of you bring tears in my eyes” Buhahaha… I’m not trying to bullshit anybody but hey! Leave all that, I’m a LIVING PARADOX. But before I start to justify my ways,under
Today I will be serving Nigerian & personal tea. I don’t know if it’s just me, but beneath the comic of “the African parents” skits, I can’t seem to unlook the toxic traits as fact foundations of what our generation has become today. We are trees, who bear fruits that sow seeds to bear trees in the future. Writing this, I can
Monday 17th June, 2019. 13:45pm “Sis Lulu calling” “Love Cuz calling” I’m stealing glances at my phone screen, as I’m enroute Benin City from Port Harcourt. I know why the calls are coming but I can’t really be bothered. Why should I even be? I should be glad…shouldn’t I? Aunty A as I’d call her in this piece, is my
Photo source: Tokyo’s Psychedelic Digital Museum If you can take shots of hot liquor, drink bitter leaf water, eat bitter-kola or go hardcore like Jägermeister or Stout, please you can dish and receive the truth without a fret. I actually wish I can get this post as far as possible, but as they say, life na jeje, so I’d hope
I’m so happy to be back after so many months, mostly because of procrastination but also because of life challenges. Before I stop digressing, I want to talk about the homecoming video. Beyonce is one hell of diva but a very high symbol of a feminist. Whenever I’m faced with the question of “are you a feminist?” I always take