I Did Not Know I Was Okay

… I honestly did not know! I thought, seriously thought I had to be someone else, I had to be something different, me as I am never seem to be good enough, somewhere, somehow I did not feel I was okay.

I did not think it was okay to be born on 9th June 1969, how laughable that is, now that I think about it in the clear light of day. I have been inclined to give a different date of birth, depending on the situation to either add or deduct years as I deemed the occasion demands. And when I couldn’t do this, I went around with the discomfort or awkwardness of someone that was born in the wrong year or on the wrong date. I was either too young or too old for my audience. I have met people who can’t lie, but who will never reveal their age, for fear of what? I know not, sadly I must admit, I have atimes been that person.

I did not know it was okay to be a female, I come from a culture that has no shame in showing it prefers the male child, a family that so badly wanted boys, but as nature will have it their first three children were female, me being the third. You can imagine the cry that greeted me when I popped out. ‘Not again!’ ‘Not another female!’ Almost like an unwanted order in the resturant, but you still settle down to eat it regardless, not wanting to create a fuss, nevertheless kept wishing you got the lasagne you ordered rather than this Bolognese! My parents were great and did their very best, couldn’t hide there intense joy when after me came a boy, at last what they ordered arrived! I did not know it was okay to be a female as I grew up and encoutered sexism and was discounted, dismissed and overlooked because of my sex. I did not know it was okay to be female, when to some of the opposite sex, all I was, was a sex object, for them to project their untamed lewd desires. I did not know I was okay.

I did not know it was okay to be the third child of a family of six, the middle child, the one that is neither here nor there. Not the first, not the last, not a carbon copy of my Dad or my Mum, just a mish mash of both of them, I thought! But there was nothing disorderly about me, I was a good mixture of both with my own God-given personality, but I did not know, I thought for a while there must have been a mix-up in the hospital. It crossed my mind more than once that I might have ended up with the wrong parents, ignoring some of the strong resemblance I shared with my siblings and my parents. I did not know it was okay to be me!

I did not know it was okay to have my shade of colouring, especially when my Dad was very dark and my mum was extremely fair, I wanted to be either all fair or mother nature black like Alek Wek not the light brown or dark brown I tend to be depending on the time of the year. I definitely did not know it was okay to have the amount of melanin in my skin when being in a predominantly white environment I am starred at, as if I was an alien that just arrived from outer space, discrimated against and sent to Coventry, overlooked for promotion, outcasted from the special in-group, refused some of those things that really should come to me, I did not know I was okay!

I did not know it was okay to have an ‘accent’ as they call it. The accent issue has always been a funny one, my english is not right because I have an accent, so I registered myself in elocution classes, but I guess it was too late as the tongue was set, my mother tongue was not right either, it was the odd type , whatever that meant, it invokes a butt of laughter every time I open my mouth. My native dialect was equally bad, atrocious was more like it, nobody from the village knew what I was talking about, plus my vocabulary was painfully limited. Whichever language I choose, my pronunciation, diction, phonics all seem to be lacking one way or another, keeping quiet seem to be the better alternative. I did not know that it was okay to sound the way I sound and talk the way I talk.

I did not know it was okay to originate from a village, or a hamlet as some will prefer to refer to where I come from. I did not know it was okay to ail from Rore, in Irepodun Local Government of Kwara State, Nigeria. Nobody seem to know about Rore except those that are from Rore. Got a bit wearing to hear the same ‘uhn, where exactly is Rore?’ Question. I was actually told it is the name for pimple. So there is always a long explanation following any time I have so say where I am from. The ‘where originally are you from?’ Question is one I have had a long practice of dealing with, it never got any easier. But, yes I did not know it was okay to be from Rore.

I did not know it was okay to live in the neighbourhood where we lived as most children in my school appeared to live in a different postcode. Well, there was no actual postcode! but I still felt I lived outside the non existent postcode that existed in my head. I did not know it was okay to grow up where I grew up. I did not understand that was just part of my own very unique journey. I did not know it was okay to grow up in Balogun Fulani.

I did not know it was okay to be quiet and introverted when everyone else seem to be outgoing, extroverted with loads of friends. I did not know it was okay to have a small circle of trusted friends. I did not know it was okay to want to spend some quiet time with myself, to be reflective, to get in touch with my inner being and my maker, I did not know it was okay to be different, if truly I was, to be mis understood by those that don’t get me. A friend once said, ‘your ways are so different from everyone else!’ And I took that as gospel, not the good news gospel, but the doom and fire gospel, I resented being ‘different ‘. I did understand that at some level we are all different. However I did not understand that he does not know everyone but more importantly he does not know what he was talking about. I did not know it was okay to be different. I did not know it was okay to be me, warts and all!

I did not know that it was okay not to have a university degree at a time when everyone around me seem to have one. A University degree was a must have criteria to qualify as a valid human being, without it I consider myself inferior, less of a human being. How wrong was I and everyone else that shared my warped views! I did not know that the value of a human being was not tied to the academic institutions that he attended or did not attend. I did not know that I was okay, that I was intelligent, something that no academic or educational institution can make me.

I did not know it was okay not to have as much, as one continues to strive, I did not know it was okay to have needs, to have challenges, to have issues, I did not understand that life is imperfect and a journey with times of austerity and times of abundance. I did not understand how to abase or to abound. I felt inferior and inadequate when I didn’t have enough and I felt guilty when I had. I did not understand that my essence was not determined by what I had or did not have. I did nor understand that material things did not make me. I did not understand that I was okay.

The list really goes on, but brevity requires that I cut this short in righteousness. I stand before you today, the 9th June 2019, extremely grateful for my life, for my journey, with all its twist and turns, all its shades and flavour. I stand today, knowing that I am okay, but it goes beyond being okay, I understand that I am extraordinary by design. I am beautiful inside and outside. I am truly fearfully and wonderfully made. As I come to the understanding of who I am, I see everyone else better and I understand that not just me but everyone is okay, but not just okay, extraordinarily created.

No ifs, buts, what abouts, it is as it should be, we are all okay as we continue to improve and strive.

Godliness with contentment is our great gain!