Tag Archives: thoughts

Having To Choose

Hi guys. It’s been a while.

I wrote a piece over on fvdedcollective.com titled ‘Bursaries and Virginities’ and it’s my response to a report about a university in South Africa offering bursaries to female students who remain celibate and undergo regular testing to ensure they are sticking to the terms of the agreement. You can check it out here. I feel like I’m not done talking about it yet because it really is a segue into a lot of deeper issues that weigh on my mind a lot of the time. I was angry when I wrote that post but now I feel like I can reason a bit better.

I was talking to a few of my friends in university about this and almost all of them said they would accept this bursary and the aforementioned testing just because they were already virgins and they didn’t plan on having sex before graduating from university anyway. But what I didn’t get is why they didn’t get that this whole situation was the biggest pile of shit in the first place. So I guess this is what I would say to them if they would listen to me and my words flowed as naturally as they do when I’m sitting in front of a computer screen.

I understand wanting to remain celibate as much as I understand wanting to have sex and I understand wanting to have an education and not having the funds for it at the time. I understand why this could seem appealing but I don’t understand why one has to choose. I don’t understand why sex has to be used as a weapon against a woman or anyone.

At the end of the day, I am a human being first. I am an intellectual being, I am a sexual being. I feel things, I want things. I have the capability to be anything I want with everything that I am. We are all sexual beings so why is sex something that I have to choose? It’s the choice that irritates me. It’s the fact that I have to choose between wanting to expand my mind or taking part in this fundamental act of life. It’s this notion that all I present to you is what’s between my legs and nothing more. Why can’t I have the possibility of both?

The reasoning behind this bursary was to minimise the spread of STDs and unwanted pregnancies and all that jazz. But do these things happen on their own? Do I click my fingers and demand to have chlamydia or have a foetus grow inside of me? It takes two to tango. Everyone is super quick to point the finger at females in almost all cases that involve sex. Be it rape, be it harassment, anything that involves consent or sex itself going wrong, females are seen as the problem and 9 times out of 10, I bet a female didn’t bring any of the issues on to herself. No one has stopped to consider the problem could stem from a male?

There are basics rights as a human being and from all I see and from what I know, the experiences of a female in this day and age are inexplicably tied to her sexuality. And it saddens me. We are so much more, we are not just sex. Too many times, I hear women saying they need to change what they are to change the outcome of situation that involves a member of the opposite sex. We have to do all the work or we need to be the defining factor. In my head, inequality is tied to the saying “from who much is given, much is required”. My one sole question that I will continue to ask is “why?” Yes, we are a bundle of intricacies and we do so much for the world but we’re not the only ones here. I just wish I knew why it was always down to women to be the sacrificial lamb in almost all situations.

Georgina ❤

Songs of the Week

And of course, The Life of Pablo but Kanye’s being difficult so either subscribe to Tidal or download it somewhere. It’s great. It’s in my top 3 Kanye albums, I’m not ashamed to say it.

And The Award Goes To… Not Your Child

Last week, I played the role of supportive big sister and went to my brother’s secondary school for this end of year show and it was so intriguing to witness exactly how parents behave. Every single school thing I’ve ever attended, I’ve been on the other side. I’ve been the one waiting to be called up with everyone else’s eyes on me.

To sum up what I observed, there’s nothing like a public acknowledgement or lack thereof of the achievements of the fruit of your loins to bring out the absolute worst in you. Body language is the biggest snitch. Sure, some parents will never outwardly express their absolute disappointment in their child during such events but you can sense it. You can feel the subliminal God, did I give birth to this foolish child thoughts just swirling above your head as they sit and watch every other child but their own get an award. I found it so funny as the parents waited with bated breath to hear their child’s name being announced only to exhale with silent bitterness at the child that did win. It was a like a war of worlds between the miniature fist bumps and the heavy but stealth eye rolls of contempt.

Being surrounded by it all got me thinking how Nigerian kids have to deal with all that plus a hell of a lot more by the time they get home. It all starts in the car. Your parents will give you the silent treatment but the second everyone is in the car and seat buckled in and the key is in the ignition, someone will start: “Why can’t you just make me proud? Why can’t you just focus on your work and win an award or did all the other children that win have two heads? No, we cannot go to McDonald’s, there’s rice at home.” If you’re lucky and you go to a fee-paying school, there is no way you won’t hear “after all the school fees I’m paying, simple award you cannot get.”

If you haven’t lived through it, you wouldn’t know. I can’t tell you much it sucks to try and do the best that you can, academically or otherwise, to then have your parents tell you “but why couldn’t you get higher than this?” or “what did everyone else get?” I’m guessing it’s a Nigerian thing. Competition is embedded in our DNA and a lot of parents are of the mind-set that their child must have a title attributed to their name in terms of a profession to be able to say, “yes, my child is not a bastard.” I honestly believe as a Nigerian child, you will hear the words doctor, lawyer and engineer thrown at you at least 700 times before you reach the age of 16. I know they mean well because job security and financial wellbeing are attributed with such jobs but they are not the only jobs in this world, for goodness sake. And how many times have you said “I want to be a singer/writer/artist” to only have those dreams shut down faster than you could even imagine?

I’m actually extremely lucky. My parents have never been soul crushing, dream stomping monsters but they’ve never been the ones to ignite a flame that couldn’t be sustained, you get me? They’ve allowed me to find my own feet and find what suits me as they fully understood that whatever I chose to do was what I would be saddled with for the rest of my life, not theirs. For instance, when I was really young, I was convinced that I was Beyoncé’s protégé. I was destined to be her next in line. I used to watch the Crazy In Love video on repeat, I nailed the walk and the sudden drop to her knees and everything. I could lip-sync like there was no tomorrow, I actually could sing…ish and I had confidence in the bucketloads. One day, I just said “Mummy, I’m going to be a singer when I grow up.” My mum looked at me, utterly bewildered yet astonished, I can never forget how she looked that day, and she said, “Maybe you should have a backup plan, just to be on the safe side.”

When I think about it, I always wonder what my own response would have been if my own child said something like that to me. I want to say I’ll be the best mum ever and say “sure, baby, you can be whatever you want to be” even if my child sounds like a cat being dunked into a bathtub. I mean, I want to be as encouraging as I can possibly be and I want my children to know they can get to the top of any ladder this world offers them to climb. I want my kids to know that they can be whoever they want to be and they’ll know that I will be the one forever in their corner, no matter how epically they fuck up because they will and that’s okay. I want to be that mum who screams her head off with joy even when my child comes last in school races or brings home C minuses on their report card because that’s what every child wants. Everyone needs that little push just to know they’re on the right track. But as always, I worry. I worry I say all this and create this foolproof ideology of how to parent in my head until I am faced with hardcore motherhood to only have my Yoruba genes shroud my sense of open-mindedness and for my inner we-have-rice-at-home mum mode to kick in.

I guess I’ll know when the time gets here and there’s no use fretting over something that hasn’t even happened yet. All I do know is, awards don’t mean anything… most of the time. I mean, look at Kanye West: wasn’t he voted least likely to succeed? In primary school, I didn’t win a single award until I was leaving the damn place. Every year I was boycotted, if that’s even possible, until finally, finally, I won the science cup in year 6 and well, look at me now, bitches. Secondary school? I used to get awards and certificates like they were plates of jollof rice on a Sunday afternoon.

But that’s besides the point. Don’t live by someone else’s idea of you. You are you and as long as you’re being the best you there could ever be, everyone else can nose dive off a very tall building. That is all.

Song of the Week

Remember, my news? Should tell you by next week 🙂

Georgina ❤

It Is Never Too Much

I wrote this last week and I wasn’t sure whether I should post it or not. I wrote it when I was in a discordant mood. But, here it is. This blog is just a diary in a glass box anyway.

This past week, I’ve been feeling as if life has been very loud. Visualise trying to have a conversation with someone, a friendly and empty conversation. You’re halfway through this little chat but there’s a lot of noise around you; it is so overwhelming, you have to stop and just listen, listen to how the world is hurting. This isn’t white noise, I’m talking about the sounds of what human beings can do to each other and to themselves: the screams, the gun shots, the police sirens, the abject daftness that flies out of people’s mouths on a regular, the sadness, confusion.

I don’t know where I saw what I’m going to describe but for some reason, I always thought sociopaths were diagnosed this way: you’re strapped to a chair, electrodes are attached to your scalp, it is just you and a television screen, nothing else to distract you, everything is standardized and controlled. A sequence of images pop up on the screen: a daisy, a puppy, a plate of food, a decapitated body, a cloud, a bright pink newborn baby, a palm tree, a severed limb, a shoe, your own passport image, a clip of an execution by firing squad, a rainbow, a bloodied head with it’s contents splattered on a wall, a meadow. As the sequence continues, an EEG records your brain activity and if its peaks and troughs correlate with the images of gore and images of normality, you’re not a sociopath, that is, you became troubled by the nasty bits and settled by the nicer things. But if the EEG shows a seemingly steady line, that is, you didn’t even flinch at the sight of brain mush smeared on a white wall, you are indeed a sociopath. I’m sure this test is a thing; I just can’t remember where I saw it.

I was watching a show we all know and love and there was a rape scene. I watched all the way through but when it was over, I found myself thinking this is too much and I immediately felt stupid. I felt hypocritical. I can’t fully understand how rape victims feel but I can imagine. Scenes from a TV show are someone else’s reality, it could be mine. What I couldn’t watch without feeling like a total wimp is what someone is going through, has gone through and will unfortunately go through and it annoys me that I felt it was too much to see.

Seeing images of war, of hate crimes, of human despair, poverty, the aftermath of natural disasters make you feel some type of way, right? Unless you’re a psychopath, you feel some sort of empathy towards what you’re seeing but you look at it for as long as you feel is polite or necessary then you turn the page or click the next link and it’s gone. We feel sorry for the people in those scenes for a couple of minutes, maybe the whole day but then that’s it, it’s gone and we move on. That is the sad part of human nature. We don’t tend to linger, we don’t tend to fight for things that aren’t directly inconveniencing us at that present moment. Oh, the earthquake in Nepal? Boohoo. Revoked citizenship for Haitian children in Dominican Republic? Poor them. 276 girls kidnapped by Boko Haram are still missing and could be used as suicide bombers? Terrible. A shooting in a church in South Carolina? Damn, not again. A man kicks in a pregnant woman’s womb until the baby dies? What the hell? But hey, somebody else will sort it out, it’s not my problem, I’m still alive, I’m still here. I should donate a pound here and there to make myself feel better. I am anti a lot of things: anti-racism, anti-misogyny, anti-poverty, anti-everything that is utterly wrong with this planet. But I always feel like no one, especially myself, is doing anything besides thinking about these things not being a thing.

I am a human, yes? And as humans, despite the circumstances we find ourselves in, there are a gazillion and one things that could happen to any of us, all of us, at any given time. With that, it could easily be me going through what I find so disheartening to view, but the fact that it’s not me smudges out my hurt. I empathise for a while but then I don’t worry about it at all until I’m faced with another sight of something awful again. It’s such a cycle of hypocritical bullshit. And what annoys me even more is that I can’t change the world. I can’t stop every rape, I can’t stop every shooting, I can’t produce world peace, I can’t end starvation, poverty, racism and pure stupidity but I want to but that’s all it is. I want to but I can’t. What’s even worse is the fact that I can’t is okay. It’s okay for me to not be able to do anything because it is what it is. It’s okay for everyone. But I’m still angry and confused at the end of the day. My concept on humanity is very… ungraspable.

I just wish, I just hope. I do what I can in the circle around me, I absorb what I can and try to advocate in my own small way but it is never enough. It is never too much.

Georgina ❤

My Little “I Have A Dream” Moment.

Do you ever just think? Or better yet, daydream?

I spend a lot of time on public transport, you know this. If I don’t have a book in my hands, it’s because I think it’s time to do some mind wandering. This is the book I’m reading right now.

Excuse the condition of the book. I do this to a lot of my books, especially if it's taking forever to finish. I feel the books, get all cosy with it, it's bound to suffer in the process.

Excuse the condition of the book. I do this to a lot of my books, especially if it’s taking forever to finish. I feel the book, get all cosy with it, it’s bound to suffer in the process.

It’s about four people, in Paris, in the seventies, all entwined by knowing one or the other, all affected by the “breakout” of homosexuality and AIDS in France. I picked it up in Waterstones for £2, I think. It’s heavily philosophical but slow and steady wins the race. Just trying something new.

Anywho, when I daydream, I daydream hard. Things that haven’t happened yet, things that might never happen, things that I hope to happen: I am a self-proclaimed dreamer. Your imagination is the only happy thing, really. It is what you make it and I try to make it… exciting. I conjure up things that are supposed to be the Universe’s surprises to me, the turtle out of the sky but no, I foreshadow so much, it’s very unlikely that anything will ever be able to surprise me because, I’m simply on it. (Note, this is untrue. I’ve tried to imagine what meeting Beyoncé would be like but never did I imagine what meeting Danny Dyer, best known for his portrayal as Mick Carter in EastEnders, would be like. My hand was quaking, I think I experienced hyperventilation for the first time but boy, did that man smell good. Damn.)

I think about who I could be, think about where my life is going and what it holds, whether the morals I have laid out for myself still hold true and whether they can still hold.

I think about how my academic life took the biggest U-turn ever and I wonder what I’m actually doing. But, a memory crops up. I remember saying I wouldn’t want to be a dentist forever, I’d much rather go into research and be the brains behind something innovative. Well, look at me now. I’m doing a degree that is almost entirely based on research and who knows, I could be the one. I don’t know what for but it could be me.

Some days, I think about what it’s like to be that girl who can tweet her opinion on an album and not sound like a total fake, I know half of you are like what is she talking about, can she even understand what rap is? I want to have a gazillion followers who retweet whatever I come up with because it’s utter genius.

I think about sex, as you do. I think about what it’s been like so far, why it’s such a big deal, how necessary it is, how it hurt, how it’s the best thing you and another human being, that you love, can physically do together. Stop squirming, it’ll happen to you soon enough.

I think about how odd different cultures are, how unwilling people are to break free from their groups and integrate. I crave knowledge, it is the very thing that keeps me going. Every day I learn something new, I want to grow mentally and that involves mixing. Why stagnate and continuously stick to the plain old, same old that will eventually, turn your brain to mush? My best friend is an Indian Muslim. I have friends who are Sikhs, Hindus, Christians, atheists, barely there Christians, from all four corners of this globe. The other day, I was thinking about the number of languages I can say hello in: 10 and counting. I am a citizen of the world, why wouldn’t I want to be connected to it in every way possible?

I think about my own faith and how I’ve barely scratched the surface in my journey with God. I think of all the questions I have and how, one day, I will be satisfied. I think about how people see the God in me and whether I am utilising the talents given to me to His standard, I suppose. Even though I don’t use this blog to shove Christianity down your throats, I think I’m doing something positive. All I’ve ever wanted to do, for as long as I can remember, is to impact a life, in any way. Be it significant, insignificant, monumentally, for a millisecond or for eternity, I want to be the cause behind an emotional response in a person. I want to be the catalyst to something in someone and I honestly think God put this blog upon my heart to help me fulfil this nugget that seems to be the driving force behind every little thing I do.

I think about the day when every negative –ism of this world will not exist, when people will open their eyes and realise how stupid it is to have a hatred towards another human being. I mean, we are all human beings, aren’t we? Jeez.

I’m turning into Martin Luther King Jr. I guess we all have a little MLK in us all.

Mini Rant of the Week

There’s been this Instagram screenshot of a woman breastfeeding her child circulating on Twitter that, obviously, has people talking but they are, obviously, talking for all the wrong reasons. Why is nudity such a big deal to people when it’s not directly benefiting them? If it was porn, God knows this wouldn’t be an issue but the second a woman captures a moment that is as natural and as necessary as the air we breathe, it’s the biggest sin. I have seen opinions like “was that really necessary?” or “so is this ok now?” and “why would she share that?” and I’m just over here wondering what demon has descended upon all these useless people. It is a woman. Feeding her child. Why the fuck is this something that people even care about? You were all BREASTFED. What do you think breasts are for? To be stared at? For decoration? To be fondled at night during foreplay? They are fundamental biological tools given to women to provide all the necessary nutritional building blocks to babies. If people find a woman feeding her child insulting, God help us all. It’s things like this that make me want to give up on humanity, honestly.

Quote of the Week

"Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life." - Omar Khayyam

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.” – Omar Khayyam

Song of the Week

Haven’t listened to anything else but To Pimp A Butterfly so… https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/to-pimp-a-butterfly/id974187289

Georgina ❤