Reviving an old article: 'I Got It From My Mama'

I wrote this piece in February 2014 for africaisdonesuffering.com, but that site has since morphed into ezibota.com and the link is now dead. Seeing as how I was quite proud of it (and I think its message is still relevant), I have reproduced it here. My thoughts on some of the ideas contained in it have evolved or even changed completely, but I still enjoyed reading it, as I hope you will too.
Leave a comment or something!

I think I look a lot like my daughter in this photo

Product: Woman. Sell-by date: Age 22

This post is somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but can someone tell me why pop culture's cut-off age for women's sexual desirability (ergo value, because everybody knows women's value is intrinsically tied to their usefulness to men, most especially sexually) is the age of 22?

I was listening to a Ray Charles song yesterday that had a line about a party with '50 girls, none over the age of 22'. This morning, it was a Bruno Mars song about a lost opportunity with a 21-year-old Brooklyn girl. Taylor Swift's ode to (White) girlhood was precisely about 'feeling 22'. There's the sweet sixteen, the finally legal eighteen, the YES GOD! 21, and that's it. Even Adele appears to have quit her career with her last album (titled, yes you guessed it, 21). Lol...

People expect (Nigerian) women to be married by 25, and they don't say 'the big three-oh' with dread in their voices for nothing. I remember saying to someone once that I felt like I'd 'wasted' being 21 because I was pregnant at the time. Where did I get the idea that being 21 was somehow the best part of my youthful womanhood?

Think about the existence of the word 'starlet' -- and about the high turnover rate in Hollywood for those women. Apply the same thought to video vixens, at home and abroad. Think about how the only supermodels over 30 still working have the bodies of teenagers. Think about every Linda Ikeji blog post about how unbelievably young-looking a woman and her body are.

Think about how Nigerian (African?) parents switch their tone from 'is that a boy I just saw you talking to?' when their daughters are starting out as young adults to 'when are you going to bring home your future husband?' in their early twenties. Or, our oh-so-popular refrain; "you aren't getting any younger, you know!"

Men are allowed to grow old; they are rewarded for it in fact. Why aren't women?

Instagram, sexual subversion, and booty pics

Anyone who knows me knows I love Instagram a little too much. I'm a very visual person, and great photography (of Black girls, architecture, and fashion, in that order) really gets me going. It's very important to me that my Instagram is an honest representation of my life; the things I enjoy, the things I struggle with -- I share whatever I feel can be accurately captured in small social-media-sized bites because I enjoy doing so.

What this means is that my Instagram posts divulge what many might consider private information to random strangers, family and friends alike, and sometimes what I share is uncomfortable for the people who actually know me.

A little context: I come from a very conservative Christian background, and as recently as early last year I was still very actively giving Christianity a go. That has changed, of course, but my circles have not. Most of my friends and family are still quite born-again, and while many of them do their best to respect my choices (I will always appreciate that), they don't necessarily understand or approve.

My Instagram doesn't have an overt feminist agenda, but from time to time I post photos of my body that are sexy/sexual/easy to interpret as sexual, because an important part of my personal feminist practice is (re)claiming my bodily autonomy. I actively reject the notion that the female body (mine, especially) is by default a sexually charged thing, and I reserve the right to use my body in whatever ways I choose.

Yesterday my sister, who is very sweet and so tries very hard not to interfere with my personal choices, but who can't help feeling the way she does about topless photos of me, mentioned her unhappiness over this post:

#behindthescenes with @victorsozaboy This shoot was such fun, and it reminded me how the body is just a tool to use as you see fit. Tattoos next perhaps?

A photo posted by OluTimehin (@theloulette) on Mar 12, 2015 at 12:37am PDT

It wasn't the first time someone who loves and has known me for a while would express concern over what I posted, and it reminded me that I wanted to write about it.

I think there is something very powerful about any kind of deliberate subversion that a woman performs with her body. Whether it is wearing revealing clothing, being unapologetically sexual, breastfeeding in conservative public spaces, etc., I think such things can be liberating.

Female sexuality (as expressed in the body) is perceived as transgressive in a patriarchal society. That's why little girls and minors can be tagged 'fast' by society, that's why victim-blaming in sexual assault cases sticks, that's why any woman can be called a whore. Whether or not a woman plays by the rules, her body is, by virtue of its femaleness, bad.

It was when I recognised this and the ways in which I had internalised this idea that it became important for me to reclaim my body in any and every way that felt powerful to me.

And @Beyoncé said, "It Is Time." My whole life has just been legitimized. Beyoncé has taken the wheel. Do you understand? DO YOU??? ____________________________ #HBO #OTR #OnTheRun #Beyonce #NewReligion #Countdown #FeministGawd

A photo posted by OluTimehin (@theloulette) on Sep 28, 2014 at 3:42am PDT

This was the first 'sexy' picture that I ever posted to my Instagram, and my family and friends apparently went into apoplectic shock. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but this Beyoncé-inspired photo (which I agonised over before posting, I might add!) was discussed at dinner tables with horror. I felt quite upset when I found out (mostly because a lot of this horrified talk was conducted behind my back) and while I could understand where they were coming from, I didn't agree with them, nor was I apologetic.

This is why:

The body is a blank canvas, and society's interactions with it have less to do with how it is presented than with how society works. The way society works right now is dysfunctional, and I am committed to changing that in whatever way I can.

To be clear, I am as much a sexual being as I am a thinker, a mother, a friend, whatever. But because I am female, it is inappropriate for me to be up-front or open about my sexuality. I'm not supposed to have sexual needs; my sexuality exists to please the one man who will validate me by favouring me with a wedding ring. Any 'untoward' sexual behaviour (which is really any display of bodily or sexual agency) will limit or completely erase my chances of finding such a man, because my worth as a person depends on how neatly I fit into the 'Madonna' end of the Madonna/Whore binary.

It is the rejection of these absurd notions that I find powerful. My body is as much a part of me as my mind, my gifts, or my abilities, and it is just as valuable. If I can challenge popularly held beliefs about what is 'okay' for a woman to do or be by using my body in ways that are deemed transgressive, then I'm all for it. If I can rattle someone's faith in the 'sexual woman, bad/non-sexual woman, good' norm, count me in. If someone can say to me, "women aren't supposed to...", and we can have a conversation about why that is complete and utter bullshit because of something I've posted, yay!

After all, I am a feminist.

This Woman is Becoming

This evening my heart is breaking and swelling, all at once, for myself and for women like me. There is a burden that I can't place or name, but it is so, so real. 

I am thinking about self-love of the radical variety, the kind that allows me to strip myself and accept myself, to break down this person that I have been told I must be to be worthy, and to become the woman I will be proud of dying as.

I am thinking about love for my sisters - African women, single mothers, lonely women, women who have tamed their voices so long they don't remember the sound, women carrying trauma because they don't know how to set it down, motherless women, shamed women, lost women. I am thinking about women like me, who are desperate for better because somehow we know there is more. The knowing is in our bones, in our feet, in our song. We know there is more. 

I am thinking about my daughter and the boldness of her spirit, the way her heart breaks for me when she sees my sadness, the way she loves herself so completely that my own sadness can not take away her joy, the generosity with which she heals me with kisses, the streak of defiance that makes her stand up to me - the streak I know I have somewhere but can't always find. I am thinking of her way in this world and the ways in which her identities will shape her and bend her, and I am worrying about the ways it may break her.

I am thinking about the work that we have ahead. There is so much building to be done; it is exhausting that we have to spend all this time tearing down what is already there, what is trying to kill us. When will it be time for rejoicing? When will the load be lighter? When will the leaves of the trees planted by our mothers and our mothers' mothers be lush and abundant enough for us all to sit under their shade?

I am burdened with a grief I don't understand, and a fury too. There is so much building to be done, and yet the people who shore up the systems that must be destroyed before we can build are too numerous to count, too powerful to ignore, too content with the status quo.

A lot of the time I want to scream.

There is not enough of me to go around. And yet, I must find a way to become enough. I must find a way to become this woman who will water the tree and plant fresh seeds and clear a path for our daughters and sisters and mothers to do the rejoicing we have been denied so long.

There is a calling on my spirit tonight. 'Hasten the time, sister. Hasten the time.'

I am not enough, but I will become so.

Young Unmarried Mother

It has been over a year since I had my daughter; twenty-three months since I found out I was carrying an unplanned pregnancy (ironically, I got pregnant in the same month when I decided I was going to donate my eggs to a fertility center, but that's a story for another day.) In that time, I have lived through what feels like a lifetime of experiences, many beautiful and rewarding, many not.

Being a young unmarried mother isn't easy. That statement is in fact too simplistic to capture just how incredibly difficult it can be, and I have had it a lot easier than most people who find themselves in my position. I have a supportive family, her father is identifiable, I work in a field that pays well, and ASUU gave me a chance to earn money instead of wasting my time acquiring an obsolete education. Life is better for me than for the average Y.U.M.

But still, there are some aspects in which my experience is exactly the same as every other girl or woman in my shoes. And that's what I want to talk about today.

1. "You can't possibly know what you're doing."

In choosing to keep and raise my child, I decided that getting pregnant at all was, to borrow a quote, the last irresponsible thing I would do where she is concerned. But people can't seem to get that.

You know what racial profiling is? Well, let me introduce you to Maternal Profiling. People look at me and my daughter and immediately assume her mother is somewhere else in the vicinity. If I had a pair of shoes for every time I've been asked, 'where is her mother?', I would be Carrie Bradshaw. Then when it has been established that I am indeed her mother, my competence is immediately called into question. I'm offered ridiculous unsolicited advice, asked insulting questions - the really forward ones attempt to take her from me to 'make sure she is okay.' Many older women seem to forget that everyone, their own insensitive selves inclusive, raised their own children mostly by instinct and intuition. There's no manual, not even when your 'happy married life!' cards come before your 'it's a girl!' cards. I'm not saying there are no bad mothers; I'm saying that the fact that I am young and don't have a husband doesn't automatically make me one. Does she look healthy? Does she look happy? Is she developing normally? Then surely that tells you that whatever I've been doing so far is working, does it not?

2. "You're a mother. You should (not)..."

People also can't seem to get that they cannot decide for me how to conduct myself and my life as a mother.

Don't tell me I can not or should not do this or that, 'because, don't you know you're a mother?' Especially if I haven't asked you. I carried her in my body for nine months. I gave birth to her in the most painful experience of my life. I have been her primary caregiver till now. Of course I know I'm a mother. I am also a young woman in my early twenties, and I'm not about to set myself and my child up for a lifetime of resentment by giving up everything that means anything to me simply because I want to appear to random strangers and/or presumptuous family members to be a 'good mother'.

I chose to raise a child, and in doing so I chose to do my best to give her everything she needs to become a well-rounded person. I know I will make mistakes along the way, I know there will be things I will be unable to handle with the amount of experience that I have, and I will seek advice and help in those situations. But please don't tell me how to live or raise my child - if you want someone to follow all your instructions on parenting, do it yourself.

3. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Some people seem offended because I haven't internalized any sense of guilt or shame over my 'mistake'.

It is my theory that many people become unintelligent when confronted with someone in my position, because I don't know how else to explain the number of times I've been asked, 'You have a baby? How come?' Nobody believed Mary when she said she was still a virgin because, big surprise, there is only one way to get pregnant. I wasn't raped, I'm thankful I didn't get pregnant from such a traumatic event; I had consensual sex. Does that bother you? The fact that a young unmarried woman had consensual sex bothers you? Why? Oh, it's fornication. It's a sin. Well, so is lying, and checking out the pastor's wife's ass and thinking about all the ways you would hit that, and changing the numbers on your expense report at work, and casually looking at Pornhub. What's your point?

Dear Christians, when Jesus died, He took care of ALL sin(s). The fact that your patriarchal socialization tells you a young woman shouldn't have sexual agency or enjoy sex has nothing to do with anything - please go and nurse your patriarchy in front of someone who cares. I had sex. God isn't having aneurysms over that fact, so why are you?

• 'Don't you know unplanned children have a hard life?' Life is hard for everyone. Ask Kylie Jenner.
• 'Don't you know she will want to know her father?' She knows her father. And even if he wasn't around, planned children lose their fathers too, sometimes even before they are born. So...
• 'You've jeopardised your future.' No, I've changed it. Every person's future is the result of overcoming challenges, self-inflicted and otherwise. That's life.
• 'Girls born to unwed mothers get pregnant young too.' I will do my best to ensure it doesn't happen to her. And if it does, I and millions of young women in the world have lived through it and made something of themselves. I don't see why she won't too.

I could go on and on, but here is the point: I refuse to feel bad for taking responsibility for my actions. If it bothers you that now there is chubby-cheeked evidence of my sex life in the world, maybe you should stop thinking so much about my sex life.

Unplanned pregnancies happen. And sometimes unplanned pregnancies become babies born to unmarried young women. Ditch the hypocrisy, set your prejudices aside, and cut young unmarried mothers some slack. Things are difficult enough for us as it is. And if you can't do those things, then you should probably just keep your opinions to yourself, because I can't guarantee that the other Y.U.M's out there will be as civil as me. 

Love, peace and soiled diapers.

Respectability and the Woman

Do you remember being little and hating to hear the words "you should not"? Or was that just me? I have always been fairly rebellious, and few things irked me more than the should-not's and supposed-to's of this world, so I learned early on to ask "why not?"

Needless to say, I continue to be surprised by how rarely I get a coherent answer. It used to amuse me no end to watch an older person flounder while trying to come up with a valid explanation for telling me not to do something they honestly believed wasn't acceptable behavior. Now it's just saddening.

I think it speaks to the power of conditioning and socialisation that people will accept - hook, line and sinker - restrictions on their lives and personhood without ever asking why. We live our lives, day to day decisions and behaviours informed by myths, and we don't question these things because someone told us so, and pretty much everyone is acting in accordance, therefore these things must be valid.

It is at this point that I like to cough, "bullshit."

Of course, no respectable woman should curse. Nor should she smoke, wear mini-skirts, twerk, use contraception, or ask a man on a date. She should wear makeup, but not too much. She should marry as early as possible, cook, clean, and never raise her voice. She should be a virgin till she marries but a freak when her man demands it. She should have less than 2000 followers on twitter and no cleavage on Instagram. And she had better know her place on game night!

The more patriarchal a society is, the more prescriptions of proper behaviour women are saddled with, restrictions which are almost always designed to limit women's pleasure in themselves (as in personal fulfilment) and their bodies. On the one hand, there is the status of 'lady' and eventually 'matron' to aspire to; the respectable female who has conformed to the patriarchy's code of conduct, and on the other - the temptress, wanton, slut, bitch, 'independent woman', bitter woman, gold-digger...there are probably as many names as there are patriarchal cultures, and more besides.

The thing that really grinds my gears though, is that most of the things women are not supposed to do, men are not just permitted to, but even lauded for. The average conversation about respectability with regard to, say, monogamy/fidelity, vice, parenting (I acknowledge that one might need to adjust for biology in some cases, but stay with me), money management - pretty much every significant aspect of adult life, will include vilification of non-conforming women and excuses for 'non-conforming men'. ('Non-conforming men' is in quotes because there is almost no such thing; men are 'respectable' by default in a patriarchal system, at least until they deviate from the defined norms of 'masculine' behaviour.)

There are far too many manifestations of this phenomenon for me to be able to address it in one blog post. Hell, in one lifetime! So I'll just end this by leaving you with this thought: next time you see a woman doing something 'unladylike', ask yourself why you think her behaviour is inappropriate. I bet you nine times out of ten it will come down to - you guessed it - patriarchy.

Doesn't that just make you want to punch something?