Happy New Year, loves!
I've decided to distill my online presence a bit. Very little. Just a smidge.
I started up a new baby that I need to put more energy into- SOGI Naija. So I've decided to chill out on posting here, and pretty much stick to my Tumblr account, which I guess will be seeing an influx of more text posts. I'll tag them 'text' so you don't have to scroll through the regurgitation of random that usually makes up my Tumblr, haha.
Of course, I'm still over at Leave In The Kinks and still acting the fool on my Twitter account.
But I do urge you to wander over to the Tumblr site and have a ball there! I'm going to edit the menu so you can navigate the same way you've been able to navigate on, I'm still going to be talking about gender and nonmonogamy and love and relationships and awesomeness.
Also, leave me your URL if you're on Tumblr so I can follow you :)
Thank you all for being on this site with me and being a part of it. I appreciate you.
Love,
Z
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MONDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2011
Rant on Paternal Igbo Homophobia
The humidity here is worthless.
I've got two or three days before my brother arrives and my sister graduates. It should be one happy family reunion, right? Right.
I'm exhausted. What with covering the anti-gay bill and pushing off SOGI Naija, all this has taken a toll on me that's not helped by needing to write a 15 page paper that's worth 40% of my grade and do research for my fieldwork in Cape Town in January. Balancing that with family time has left my anxiety flaring and my irritability spiking in shockingly short amounts of time.
I hate homophobia. I hate that my father thinks gay people shouldn't be flaunting it. Actually, I don't care what he thinks, it's generally homophobic so, whatever. What I do hate is that my sister somehow saw that as reasonable. Reasonable. I had to explain how that was fucked up and homophobic, and in the end it came down to what it always comes down to, what more can I expect from a 67 year old Igbo Christian man? I used to let it stop there, but now, now I don't think so.
I expect more. I'm sick of being told I should settle, ignore my father's homophobia and just play happy families because I'm never going to get anything better out of him. I'm sick of being told to not rock the boat, and respect my elders, and hey, he's my father so I should go see him. I'm not going to go see him, and here's why.
Seven weeks ago, I nearly died. I'm going to keep saying it because it's what fucking happened. I came out on the other end cracked open and gradually since then, my main priority has been myself. I've been called selfish a lot of times before, mostly because I would put my needs ahead of other people's. If you thought I was selfish then, you're about to flip the fuck out because that was nothing. That was nothing. I've looked around and wondered why people would expect me to put them before myself in a situation where that is harmful to me. The last time I checked, love doesn't look like that.
I will not hurt myself just to make you feel more comfortable. I am responsible for my own protection, for my own mental stability and sanity, for my own life. I am my main priority, and I do not regret that for one fucking second because it is fucking keeping me alive.
Seven weeks ago, I nearly died. Watch me be selfish.
So no, I will not be talking to my homophobic father just because he's my father. I will not be playing good little daughter to a man who is repulsed by my identity. Oh, you can argue that he's a product of his culture, religion, whatever. I don't care. I have done nothing wrong by being queer, so why is it up to me to take care of everyone else's feelings around that? Fuck the noise. I didn't cause you to have a problem with me, you did that all on your own and it is not my job to hold your hand through your homophobia. My country is trying to make my existence illegal. I'm busy.
I am sick of people excusing this shit. My mother encourages me to go see my father, without a thought to what his homophobia has done to my mental or emotional health. Trying to get her to try for one second to see it from my perspective was like smashing my head against concrete- why are they going to such lengths to excuse and cover up this homophobia? As soon as I pin them into a corner where they cannot deny he is homophobic, they reply- what do you expect from him?
Nothing. I don't expect acceptance or tolerance, and clearly, I cannot expect you to condemn his bigoted thinking. In like vein, do not expect me to accept or tolerate his homophobia. We have all made our choices here, and I no be bad guiz. All I did was be myself, be honest, not hide, advocate for my community. I don't intend to stop.
I just had to vent about this. I usually don't blog a lot about my family, so I'll skip how my mother handles my mental illness. Just know this, your care is in your own hands. You choose who you surround yourself with, what conversations you subject yourself to, what you tolerate and whether it is worth it.
I am taking care of myself, by any fucking means necessary.
Deal with it.
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POSTED BY Z AT 6:27 PM 4 COMMENTS: LINKS TO THIS POST
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LABELS: FAMILY, HOMOPHOBIA, NIGERIA, RELATIONSHIPS
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2011
Pole Dancing Classes
I just got back from my pole dance class, and I'd forgotten how much I love it. I don't hide the fact that I'm learning how to pole dance, mostly because I don't see why I should. In fact, as I was getting on my bike to head out, I was saying good morning to the barber who works in my building, and I cheerily said "I'm off to my pole dance class!". He hung his head and shook it at me ruefully. I've been telling him about the classes since I started over the summer, and I think he regards me with a mix of perplexity and amusement.
I take classes at Sacred Brooklyn, and every time I walk in there, it's so peaceful and chill. The pole dance class starts with a warm-up for about fifteen minutes that incorporates dance, yoga, and plain ole' stretching. The first time I took the class, I was uncomfortable with how...well, sensuual it all was. I'm actually not used to seeing my body as a sensual thing, you know? I was like 'You want me to touch my legs? For what??' Lol. I'm more comfortable now. My teacher then focused very much on the sensuality of it, the seduction. My teacher today has more of a fitness background and is more about form and building strength.
Half an hour into the class, there's a bruise on the top of my right foot from climbing the pole, my palms are red and aching, my shoulders are nicely tired. I work on making eye contact with myself in the mirror, pointing my toes when I move, and getting the form on my spins right. We freestyle to a few songs at the end of class, and I hop back on my bike feeling happy and with my body having worked out satisfactorily.
I love pole dancing because that ish is a workout. Please don't doubt. You must be strong as hell to do that right, and it's set to fun music, and it's such a sex positive atmosphere where you learn to not be afraid of your body and to see it as sexy and alluring, no matter what you look like. We all have our body issues, and pole dancing helps me connect to my body and relate to it, and love it a bit better. I think next year I'm going to focus on capoeira and pole dancing, with some hot yoga in there if I end up liking it.
I urge you to try at least ONE pole dance class if you're someone who likes dancing as a workout. Challenge yourself and your sensuality. Then maybe we can all get on this woman's level. Heaven knows I hope to, haha.
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POSTED BY Z AT 12:49 PM 1 COMMENT: LINKS TO THIS POST
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LABELS: BODY IMAGE, DANCE, FITNESS, SELF-CARE
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2011
Vagabonds in Power
Cross-posted from my Tumblr page.
nneka- vagabond in power
the first time i saw her perform this song was in a small room in boston, and it was the first time i’d heard her music or seen her live. it was amazing. basically, the song is directed at those politicians and people who run nigeria. she sang that shit with every ounce of pain and grief that this country has given us. i might have wept #thugdown
you dey break my heart
i thought about my dad, and how he’s trying to run a failing hospital, how’s he’s broke and lonely in a disastrous economy in a country he came home to because back then, it seemed like it’d have better opportunities than london when one naira was equivalent to one pound.
you no fit say you no know wetin you dey do me
now, i think about this new anti-gay bill and how if i bind, wear boy clothes, and walk in lagos hand in hand with my best friend, this law makes it legal to lock me up for ten years. i think about all the gay and trans activists in lagos that are fighting for our rights, to stay alive, to make our lives legally matter.
you dey take my pride and dignity away
i think about my cousin chidi, who dated men and died last year, and told me he was proud of me. i think of how his family treated his widowed partner and tried to cut him out of his inheritance, of the hate, of how my father looked disgusted at me and told me i was cursed and that’s what killed chidi. now my government makes this hate legal.
as you dey make me dey suffer
“is your friend gay?”
“no, daddy, she’s not.”
“how does she tolerate you?”
you dey take my soul away
do you know what it feels like to come home after seven years and realize that your people would really prefer it if you were dead? that many of them wouldn’t care if you were raped or beaten or anything, you abomination, you deviant, you sick pervert. turn me in, lock me up for ten years, kill me and my government will sign off on it.
as you dey torture me so
i’m going home in three weeks.
you dey break my heart
you dey break my heart
you dey break my heart
#bikowemustkeeplovingoh
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POSTED BY Z AT 11:42 AM 1 COMMENT: LINKS TO THIS POST
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LABELS: FAMILY, HOMOPHOBIA, LGBTQ, NIGERIA
Relationship Ramblings
Things I have been thinking about today.
Do not use being hurt as an excuse to be an asshole.
I get being hurt. Trust me, I've been hurt all over, and I know that lashing out can make you feel like you have some control over the situation. Sometimes, lashing out is even warranted, like if someone genuinely wronged you. In that case, yeah, you screw me over and I'm very liable to be an asshole to you. But when you take out your hurt on someone who doesn't deserve it? Not cool, bro. Not cool at all.
A friend once told me that anger is a secondary reaction, address the root, not the fruit. I have a hard time dealing with people who use anger to cover up their hurt. I usually end up putting up with their bullshit because I can see that beyond that, they're actually hurting a lot, and that's what I care about. But even that has a threshold, you know? At some point, Imma need you to pause on the anger and actually communicate the hurt and the reasons for it. Which reminds me.
Communicate.
This should be obvious. If you don't tell me what you're feeling, I won't know. I don't care how obvious you think it is, how many hints you dropped, whatever. I need information that's about as subtle as a brick to the face. Tell me, or I will consider myself to not have been told.
And for the love of all that is holy, do not dare to try and hold me accountable when I was never given full information. This has happened to me more than once- someone would be mad at me, or hurt by something I did, and would somehow fail to mention it to me. Then they would go and cop an attitude because I didn't react to their pain/anger/frustration in a loving way. Look. My friend. I am not going to feel bad about that, you are the one who made a choice not to tell me, and I don't understand how I'm magically supposed to respond to something I've never been told.
Makes no goddamn sense. Trying my goddamn patience. Be accountable for your damn self.
And if you want to go and bad-mouth me, do you. Do you. I know myself- I know that when I'm called out, I take responsibility, I make appropriate apologies, I make amends, I alter my behavior as necessary. I try my best to do the right thing. If I'm not given the chance, however, there's not much I can do #kanyeshrug
People can hurt people accidentally.
This has subsets. First of all, someone who hurts you accidentally is not the same as someone who hurts you maliciously or carelessly. The conversation can really be as simple as-
A: What you did/said was really hurtful. I feel xyz about it.
B: Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I had no idea/wasn't my intention/that's not what I meant at all, it was a misunderstanding. -insert love and reassurance and amends here-
A: Oh okay. -feels better-
What usually happens though, is that A gets hurt and reacts by lashing out at B in anger. B has no idea why the hell A is acting like that and being hurtful (refer to the first bullet), and gets angry in return. Result? Wahala. That being said, when someone tells you that something you did hurt them, sometimes you can't take that shit personally. This brings me to the second subset- you can hurt someone accidentally, and when they call you out on it, it does not mean that they are calling you a bad person. I cannot reiterate this enough. Too many people take being called out as a slight on their character and then the conversation ends up looking like this-
A: What you did/said was really hurtful. I feel xyz about it.
B: Wow, I'm the bad guy and it's never your fault/ You know what, whatever. I'm the asshole. Fine./ You always have to be the victim/ It's not my fault so I'm not apologizing, etc.
Nothing about that is helpful. But sometimes, they do end up calling you a bad person. I had an ex straight up call me controlling because she misunderstood what I said to her. That pissed me the fuck off because there's a big difference between saying "You're controlling", and saying "I feel like you're trying to control me". She said the former weeks after the original conversation, and I was like- damn. You went and reached a conclusion all on your own without actually checking if your assumption was correct, and made a judgment on my character. Wow.
Language. Communication. This shit is important.
What are some of your bullet points??
POSTED BY Z AT 8:33 AM NO COMMENTS: LINKS TO THIS POST
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LABELS: FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, RELATIONSHIPS
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2011
Sex-Positivity + Shame + Love
So, I recently started this new book series, quite by accident. I picked up a book from the YMCA, called ‘Kushiel’s Dart’, mainly for the need of something to read on the train, but by the time I got to the end of it, I was dumbstruck. It was awesome! I loved it! Shit, I’d even had tears come to my eyes as I followed the characters’ stories #thugabsent. I knew I was a goner when I was reading a particularly tense scene and found myself gasping "No, Joscelin!" out loud. Yes. That awesome. Then I looked it up and found it was part of a six book series #yeslawd, so I bought the second one via nook so I could read it instantly, and ordered the rest from Amazon. It was not a game.
Now, I'm going to talk about two things.
1. Sex-Positivity
Jason Shawn Alexander
vicarious (2010)
The books are so goddamn sex-positive!! In the primary culture, sex is a sacred act, rape is blasphemy, people use safewords, there is no shame in expressing desire, non-monogamy isn’t stigmatized, same-sex relations are totally the norm, sex work is a sacred calling, BDSM is beautifully everywhere in the book. I mean, the main character in the first three books is a pure masochist and sex worker. No one gets pregnant unless they pray for their wombs to be opened in the first place. I'm sure a deeper analysis will reveal some flaws in the books, but for now, this sex-positive spin is life to me.
I read the stories and I want so badly to unlearn all the shame that's been sutured into me. I feel like that is such a revolutionary thing for us to do, to approach our sex lives without shame. There's that little 'proper' voice in my head telling me that I shouldn't be initiating stuff with people I'm interested in, that I shouldn't put my foot down about my needs, that I should bend and acquiesce and placate and become smaller, instead of filling the air with my being. I want to challenge that. I want to tell myself sex positive things over and over till I believe them- then no one can hurt me by saying negative shit to me, because I will be firm in my faith that I'm good. You know? So I'm all about approaching people and hitting them up and talking about boundaries and disclosing and sharing and free love. Elua! This feels like freedom.
The books also talk about sex can be healing, and worship, and love, and sometimes, just plain carnal fun.
#preach
2. Love
They also talk about love, so much, all the time. Now, I don't think about love so much, even though I am in love with love. Plus, I believe God = Love, so really, I wanna be love's stan. These books are making me think about love and try to see it in several places in my life. Take yesterday, for example. I was out salsa dancing. Now, I love dancing. I love it as much as I love reading and maybe even more than I love writing. Yes, I love it more than writing. Y'all know how I feel about writing.
Anyhoo. I was thinking about love and how much I love dancing, and how grateful I was for that very moment in time where I was on the dance floor, and it was amazing. Seriously. I reached this place where there was an overwhelming peace in me and I felt so present. It was like a film, haha. I focused on my dance partner's face, there was just a blur of color and sound behind them, and I was conscious of little details like the pressure of their fingers and the line of their jaw. It was, frankly, a rather spiritual experience. I was alive, and present, and doing something that I love so passionately. I wanted to freeze those moments, have the bachata and merengue and salsa music hammer back and forth forever, watch my skirt twirl in infinite circles. My gods, it was such a pure feeling. I wish I could let my dance partners know how much those dances meant to me.
I think that if I look for love in moments like those, if I seek to replicate them, I can stay alive. Those moments would be worth living for. Experiencing love like that, it would be worth living for.
I wonder where else I can find it. Love in New York streets. Love in a cupcake. Love in my gospel Youtube playlist. Love in the roda. God in the roda. Love in rain. Love in a stranger's scent. Love in a friend's text. Love in the choice over anger. Love in forgiveness. Love in letting go.
These books are a boon. This feels like healing.
PS- I got two new tattoos on Friday last- the Deathly Hallows and Nigeria. Yes. My people. Patriotism don carry me finish #lwkm
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POSTED BY Z AT 9:26 AM 2 COMMENTS: LINKS TO THIS POST
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LABELS: DANCE, FEAR, LE SEX, LOVE
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2011
Life Is For The Living
(Trigger warning for discussion of suicide & self-harm)
I’m a huge Terry Pratchett fan, and if you’ve never heard of his work, you clearly need to #getfamiliar. He has Death as a recurring character in his books, and I simply can’t get enough of the character and his dry wit. I would start quoting him here, but I think he’s more hilarious in context. iDigress. I think a part of my fondness for Death is because I live on a thin line between being alive and well, not alive. I’m also not bothered much by the fact that I live on this line, and it’s been pointed out that my indifference is...problematic. Never mind that, my therapists and I are figuring that out.
I’ve written about my depression and suicidal thoughts before, I blogged about when I was hospitalized last year for having a suicide plan, and I have conversations often with people about suicide. Sometimes, it’s strangers reaching out to me because they feel the way I feel. Sometimes, it’s just sharing my morbid thoughts with the friends who don’t get too freaked out by how often I think about Death. Sometimes, when I think about Death, I think about Bassey Ikpi and The Siwe Project, and I wait for the project to unfold. I mostly think about sleep, though. Or I think about how inside my head is a complex game where one player is trying to kill me and the second player is trying to keep me alive. They plot elaborate hoaxes, ruses, and safeguards. They play the game even when I’m not paying attention. I don’t know how my mental health enters the game, I don’t know when it started, and I don’t know if or when it will end.
