Should I Have Stayed Anonymous?

Maybe... but what if??

“I think she should pack it up”

“She so skinny, she’s definitely into drugs”

“She’s so ugly”

“She’s so dark”

“She looks like a corpse. LMAOOO. Or a rat”

“Who would ever date someone that looks like her?”

“I’d kill myself if I ever woke up to this. LMAOOO”

“Same bro”

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I remember the first time I was bullied by an adult. My mother had dropped me off with ‘Mama’.

Mama was an old woman who lived in a large brown bungalow on our street. Young mothers, who could not afford proper daycare, would drop their kids with Mama when they needed to go somewhere. And the kids? We loved getting dropped off with Mama because even though she was a strict old woman, her house was usually filled to the brim with children you could play with.

I must have been around 7 or 8 when one of the mothers came to drop her kid. I was sitting outside on the verandah while Mama was inside, sitting on her prayer mat. The woman looked at me with what I could only describe as disgust -

“Why are you so black like this?”

I honestly didn’t know how to respond to that question because what was I supposed to say?

“Sorry ma”, I whispered under my breath. I had been taught to never argue with an older person and so I apologised for my blackness.

“Mama! Can’t you tell this one’s mother to do something for her?”, the woman shouted in Mama’s direction.

“Iya Shukura, just drop your child and go!”, Mama responded.

I noticed Mama didn’t encourage her words but she didn’t discredit them either.

That’s when I became aware of myself.

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After my exchange with Iya Shukura, it was as though my eyes opened to society. I swear I knew what it must have felt like when Adam and Eve realised they were naked.

I’m so sure Eve shouted - Hei see penis!

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Whenever I’d go out, women would wrinkle their noses and ask why my mother did not bleach my skin.

The #melaninmovement may have been popular in the lat 2010s but when I was growing up, bleaching was the way to go. It was extremely popular among young women and even mothers whose children came out with shiny ebony skin would look at their children in pity and consult their friends in whispers. Which creams could lighten the skin of their babies. The ones that could not afford creams would resort to traditional tonics, forcing their kids to drink, sometimes even blocking their noses in a bid to force it down their throats.

My mother was different and I hated it.

The only thing she used on my skin was vaseline, she didn’t even relax my hair in school and even worse, my junior school uniform, which was a pinafore, was supposed to be figure hugging and stop just above the knee.

My mum made agbada for me. Not only was it big, it stopped at my ankles.

As a result, those useless boys didn’t toast me.

Because who will toast girl that is wearing agbada? If it is you, will you toast? Ehn baby?

(sidenote: dating was not encouraged in school but we still did it)

Anyway, the bullying in junior secondary school was heavy. My nickname was Agbada Girl

(But as soon as I entered senior secondary school like this??? I became a hot babe. I slim-fitted the hell out of my uniform (we were now wearing a shirt and skirt) and made sure my skirt was well above my knee.

My mother noticed and asked me to loosen the skirt but in the end, she was too pre-occupied with my brothers to care so much)

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Looking back at my pictures of myself as a child, I was beautiful. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why they called me ugly.

But fast forward to many years later, I would come to be called ugly again on social media. This time from people I barely knew. It did not just stop there, they’d also say I was a drug addict.

Why?

Simply because I was creating content they didn’t like. Some said I should have just stayed anonymous.

If I had known how much hate and vitriol I’d face on the internet, would I have still done a face reveal?

Since I stopped being anonymous, my life had gotten a thousand times better. I’ve met people I didn’t think I’d meet, I’ve quit my job, I’ve published a book, I’ve made 100x more money. I’ve become independent, I’m paying big money for rent, I have staff, I’m living the life I want for myself. I’m making my monthly salary in one hour.

However if I had remained anonymous, the only thing I would have gotten is the approval of people I didn’t know.

In a nutshell, God punish approval

In fact, I wish I had done the reveal sooner. I’d have started enjoying my life much earlier.

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I met a successful woman a few days ago. She said she had seen all the comments I had gotten online and she said congratulations.

I looked at her confused.

“If people hate you, it means they are finding you easily. People don’t hate who they don’t know.”

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Now, this newsletter isn’t really about me. It’s about you.

I don’t know who you are but I know you’re letting fear dictate your life. The fear of where people will say. How people will react. And because of that, you’ve not started that thing you want to start.

Will people insult you? Maybe.

Will you get pushback? Definitely.

But are you going to let random people stop you from achieving your dream life?

The answer better be no.

Now, go out and achieve.

I love you.

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The song of the week is Ride For Me by Young B