The Sisterhood of The Travelling Pants 1

     Guys… I am a little sad. It is literally almost the end of March and I’ve been enjoying blogging  so much, just organically sharing the lessons I have learned and continued to learn from my tribe of queens has been an extremely cathartic process. If you have just started reading the blog and have no idea what I am on about, March is Women’s History, so on the blog this month, I have been talking through different positive attributes and character traits every week, and highlighting women in my life that exemplify these qualities.

     “The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants” is a series of four novels written by Ann Brashares, and a two-part movie adaptation with the same title, that tells the whirlwind story of four teenage girls who share a pair of blue jeans, and much like their friendship, they all bring something different, but it fits all four of them perfectly. This pair of blue jeans quickly becomes more than an item of clothing, as this coming-of-age story unfolds, it becomes the fabric of their entire friendship and the very thing that holds them together as they drift away and explore their own individual journeys. So, naturally it is the perfect reference point for this story because it truly reflects my own relationship with my sisters. Except the perfect pair of blue jeans are our entire wardrobes, all three of us. In part one, we are throwing shade and catching feelings and not catching feelings and throwing more shade. I feel like more than anything, my sisters have taught me how to authentically and organically become “other”, unconsciously by fiercely being exactly who they are and consciously by letting me throw shade at the regular population’s failed attempts. And I mean sometimes it all comes off a little harsh or dry especially when the shade is directed at me, but we get each other, we get each other on a level that allows us to remember that none of us are mean spirited. No matter how hard we have to dig, whether it takes 3 minutes or 3 days, we do it because we know there’s kindness in there somewhere.We all have the same extremely sarcastic tone and the same bone dry sense of humour so we get along great, we never really run out of things to talk about, we can talk for hours and hours and I love it (well except when we’ve been talking for 3 hours straight and it’s 2:28am).

     Reyna Biddy once said “you can only get better at what you practice often, practice being yourself; the one you are behind closed doors, let people love that person,” and my sisters let me be that person and they love her fiercely. We hear over and over again that practice makes perfect and it seems repetitive and a little redundant to remind you that you can only get good at being yourself if you practice but I promise this is important. It is important because being yourself is often uncomfortable and inconvenient, and being authentic often makes you look “weird”or “uncool” to begin with, but it gets better… I think, I hope. The “best” of us struggle with the same crippling fear of being rejected or judged or misunderstood or not liked or unpopular. It is not hard to see how pretending to be someone you are not can be a much easier, much better deal. For one, being someone you are not and getting rejected, is much easier to deal with than being yourself and getting rejected, because there are at least 6 billion fake versions of you but only one real one.

Practising being yourself is important also because social media makes it so easy to lose sight of who you are. Social media makes it so that you are constantly being scrutinized. Social media has become like an interview, and in many cases it is (something like 80% of employers search for their candidates on social media before the first in-person interview), to where it is stoic and noble to admit your weaknesses but there is also an unspoken obligation to tie it all up in a pretty pink bow. We constantly demand the truth but the truth is, the truth we demand is not the truth that is the truth, it is the truth that we envision in our minds, the truth that we unconsciously want the truth to be. And to prove it, here’s nine “other” fails…

1. We say we want a woman  to show her scars and stretch marks and flabs and folds but when she does, we think “good for her” not “oh my goodness, she’s gorgeous.” This ridiculous need to seem “perfect” comes from the illusion that we are the only ones with flaws and stretch marks and baggage and darkness. But as Ernest Hemingway so astutely points out, the truth is “we are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.”
2. I feel like I woke up one morning and it was suddenly uncool to like Beyoncé and Chris Brown and Usher and all the regular-Joe, mainstream artists. Now everyone is all about Solange and Kehlani and SZA and Khalid, and I mean I love SZA and my little sister is OBSESSED with Khalid, so by association, I am too. This is not the problem. The problem is that there are people who think they are like music connoisseurs or something, and their music taste somehow makes them “better” than the rest of us. Answer me this, wouldn’t you rather enjoy your “crazy in love” in peace than join “chopping mouth association” on top being cool? The truth is I love Bruno Mars and Drake and Beyonce, and I’m fine with that, but I also feel pressure to be artsy-fartsy-vibey-cool.
3. Being on social media does not qualify anyone for a PhD in maturity, ok? Like, please what is that about? Social media is not for everyone and that is perfectly ok. In fact, Portalndia is not on Instagram and mi rei is, and there’s about two pictures of her in total on there, but that’s just because like I say, they are both super private. No one likes that one annoying person in the group who wants to put everything on Snapchat, but it is not fair to treat everyone who is on Snapchat like they are compulsive.
4. I feel like everyone knows someone who is on some phony-ass, “flower child”, “septum piercing”,“hippie-dippy” shit. Is it by force to be alternative? 
5. My favourite “other” has to be the “naturalista,” the “my hair is natural , so if you are Black and your hair isn’t, then you are either self-hating or a sell-out.” My hair is natural and believe it or not, it was not my choice, just bad timing I guess. I have no tolerance for ANYONE who hair shames. 
6. Ooo and the boys who claim to “like girls natural, natural hair, natural nails, no makeup.” Ooo but “I like my men tall, dark, handsome and rich!” I guess we are both going to have to settle, aren’t we?
7. Another favourite “other” of mine is the “couch potato/old lady” other. The “I don’t go clubbing, I would just rather stay home, read a good book and have a glass of red wine” other. Like, ok sweetie, good for you, you should do that then. The hole-and-corner, tongue-in-cheek insinuation that staying in on Friday night somehow makes one more mature is beyond me.
8. Sex. The “Ooo she said bad word!, Oh what must we do?, i’m pretty sure they are directly related to Jesus” other, the ones who act like sex is such a taboo and you are just a horrible person for wanting to talk about it. So irritating. Then of course, there’s the obnoxiously suggestive “other” that tries so desperately, to give off this bogus comfortability, borderline nonchalance with sex. Again, irritating. Just act normal, the fact that you feel comfortable enough to talk about sex does not make you a ho, it makes you an adult. And anyone who acts like they are not at least curious about sex, virgin or not, is a… wait for it…. LIAR! SURELY we can reach a happy medium.
9. Weed. Oooo she’s on one today. My friend had a birthday thing a couple of years ago and it was interesting, to say the least. Basically, after we got done with dinner, we all headed outside the restaurant to get cabs. While we waited, my friend pulled out a blunt, lit it, took a puff and passed it to the next person and then the next person took a puff and passed it to me. Only thing is I don’t smoke weed, absolutely no problem with the ADULTS who do, but I, Ninioritse, do not. Before I could politely refuse the now slightly unsanitary offer, “oh no she doesn’t do that!” And I instantly felt the judgment and thought to myself, I have been totally respectful of your choice, why am I being called out and made to feel weird about mine?

My sister Portlandia made cool look cool before it became cool. I feel like living with her, while unbearable sometimes has really influenced the girl I am today. She has taught me to be relentless in rooting for myself, my success and my happiness. She has taught me to think for myself. She has taught me to think of what I think of my own actions and decisions before I think of what other people may or may not think about my actions and decisions. I say this, but I also unconsciously make the decisions I feel she will be the most proud of me for. My sister ‘mi rei’ is just my best girl. She is the smartest, most focused, most loving, most forgiving, most encouraging person in my life. She holds me in such high regard that it scares me. No, you know what scares me? It is the fact that she forces me to look at myself the way she looks at me. She forces me to see myself in the best possible light and fights tooth and nail to hold me up there, because trust me, I continue to give her enough reasons to drop me. More than anything, my sisters are two of the largest pieces of my heart and I hope I make them proud every day.

This is the story of "Grace": Never Throw Anyone Out

         As you know, March is Women’s History… wait, no… I really can’t explain this again. If you are totally confused, please check my last two posts. I mean… I know you probably didn’t, you probably just continued reading, so I’ll explain… AGAIN. As you know, March is Women’s History Month, so the plan for the blog is to talk through different positive attributes and character traits every week, and highlight  a woman in my life that exemplify these qualities. This week, it’s my Mamaca, my grandmother. She is the most compassionate person you will ever meet, the most elegant lady and she does it all with such style and grace. She has 7 biological children and 16 grandchildren, so that accounts for 23 out of the 614642537 people she takes care of.  For most of her life, she has taken care of all these people while also juggling a full-time job as a nurse and her activities in the Catholic Church, which is pretty much like having two full time jobs. Wait, I feel like, that just made her sound dead or really, really old. “For most of her life…” She’s not. She’s 73 and She’s just retired.

When I started creating a plan for this article, I found myself struggling to decide whether to describe her character and they way she treats people as “empathetic” or “compassionate.” I was initially weary of the word “compassionate” because it is often affiliated with pity, which my Mamaca doesn’t help people out of pity. However, “compassion” also means “empathy” accompanied by action, which is the most accurate depiction of her character, so that was it. Mamaca helps people because she feels their pain and desperation, she has lived so much life that she can pretty much relate to everyone. Compassion is empathy accompanied by action. So, in this way, Mamaca is compassionate because she shows empathy and takes the time to listen, but more importantly, she accompanies her feelings with action. It is the same spirit that my Queen Julie embodies so well. So much so that I’m just now, as an adult, figuring out that most of my “uncles” are actually my uncle’s friends who needed a place to stay after university. 

        Over the past couple of months, I have been in Nigeria, so I have gotten the chance to visit her more often and it has been such a blessing. Almost every time I visit, she has found a new way to help someone and she is never the one who tells me about it. I found out quite recently that the people who currently rent her property have not been able to make rent in almost a year but she doesn’t fight them because she knows that they struggle. She is 73 years old but every time I visit she makes me dinner fit for a queen, no matter how hard I try to convince her not to. I think I am just now learning that although my Mamaca is not an emotional or a sentimental woman, she still shows more love than the average Joe. She is quite sarcastic but she possesses a kindness that seems to know no bounds. This is an important lesson. This is an important lesson because I often confuse love with affection, which affection is nice and affection can be an indication of love but it is not the same thing as love. Mamaca is not affectionate but this is no way diminishes the love she shows on a daily basis. I think society’s definition of love is becoming so warped and twisted and shallow and one-dimensional that a man who abuses his wife or girlfriend can so easily mask his animalistic tendencies by a few kisses and tender touches at dinner.

Mamaca continues to prove herself worthy of my utmost respect, and so effortlessly too; she has become quite the professional at putting me in my place and showing me up, sometimes, without saying a word. Like, that one time when I showed her the pictures I took in Versailles last summer, oh so proudly that I could barely get my words out, partly because I was too excited but also because I thought she won’t really understand. But I ended up stumbling on a picture of her standing in front of the Versailles castle in 1982? Or you know, that one time when I thought I was mad cute in my tiny, little dress and Mamaca told me about it, but it went over my head because I thought to my self “she is too old-fashioned?” But again, I ended up taking it back to the tailor and having a few more inches added to it. As it turns out all that fuss, all that back and forth is unnecessary because true elegance is not shouty, it has nothing to prove, it is timeless. 

Elegance is a dignified or restrained beauty of form, appearance or style; an art my Mamaca has mastered. According to the Oxford Living Dictionary, it is the quality of being graceful and stylish in appearance or manner. Manner being a person’s outward bearing or way of behaving towards others. In other words, elegance begins internally, elegance begins with a personal decision to manifest your light a certain way, to maintain a certain a level of decorum, a decision that will not be compromised by the energy or vibe or appearance or verbal decisions or actions of anyone else. Elegance is having all the power, the whole time and not letting go to prove a point or win a petty argument. Elegance is putting your personal peace before other people’s opinions of you. It is the same reason Mamaca didn’t get worked up or annoyed when my mum had to point out to me that she (Mamaca) put herself through nursing school. I didn’t think she was uncultured or uncouth or anything, I didn’t downplay her wisdom in my mind, but I guess I just assumed that she didn’t have any formal education, which is not cool.

Many times, the words “elegant” and “classy” are used interchangeably but in my opinion, there are some fundamental differences between the two, which when explored have the potential to offer clarity and highlight authenticity and depth. To begin with, elegance is all about self-respect and self-restraint, and the pursuit of classiness is superficial and deeply rooted in showmanship. True elegance nudges you to reflect on who you are as an individual and how you treat people, and trying to be classy inevitably takes you down the spiral of comparing what you have and your level of sophistication to those around you. “Classy” is often a self-acclaimed title, on Instagram, the caption “keeping it classy” has spread like wildfire because people feel the need to prove that they are the “bigger” person in whatever context or capacity.“Elegant” is more often used by a person when describing someone else, in their absence no less. “Classy” is objective, elegance isn’t. Queen Julie and Mamaca would casually without realizing, refer to a party they enjoyed as “classy,” but never the people. An event, a one-time thing SHOULD be classy, and possess a certain air of sophistication, because it will only last a couple of hours and is meant to be impressive to the guests. As a human being, a real person, choosing to live your life with the primary goal of being impressive is like trying to throw a cool party every single day, it will always be far more exhausting than just being yourself. And fortunately or unfortunately, people will always remember how you treated them over what you gave them or how you looked. Working towards elegance is significantly easier to maintain and more authentic and more organic, because the easiest person to be is yourself, like with my Mamaca, what you see is what you get and it has been that way for as long as I can remember.

My Mamaca’s name is Grace, Grace Theresa Okpiabhele, which makes all the sense in the world, because you need a well of grace to be able to half pull it off. My Mamaca carries a thousand worries on her head and in her heart but never in her smile or in her walk. She is not perfect and she never claims to be, she just enjoys the grace, the unmerited favour of God and she is almost too aware of it. Like clockwork, she begins or ends almost every sentence with “By God’s grace,” which I mean she needs it, to continue to be everything to everybody at the same time. My Mamaca enjoys the special grace of God and she works hard to make sure we all know that. I love my Mamaca, always have, but now that I am bit older, I appreciate her. I may disagree with her when she criticizes my questionable fashion choices but I know that knowing her and having her in my life makes me a better person.

Sink or Swim?

Dear September, 

This is the one where I talk about faith and perseverance and resilience. As you know, March is Women’s History Month. So the plan for the blog is to discuss different positive attributes and character traits every week, and highlight the women in my life that exemplify these qualities (which if you read last week’s post, you also know this). This week’s post is all about faith, perseverance and resilience, because they often manifest the same way, and there is no one who exemplifies these qualities better than my aunty-mother, Aunty Ede. 

According to the Oxford Dictionary, ‘faith’ is a complete trust or confidence in someone or something. Trust and confidence. Trust is a firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something. Confidence is the state of feeling certain about the the truth of something. By definition, it is unlikely that you have faith in just one thing. Thus, choosing to be a Christian and choosing to have faith in God FIRST, does not disqualify anyone else. In other words, as a Christian, my commitment is to put God FIRST and have Him on speed dial, not to have Him be the only one on my contact list. Christianity is more a relationship than a religion, so naturally, everyone’s journey is unique and there is freedom to make it what you want it to be. 

Christianity, like any other positive relationship fosters and ignites other positive relationships. The Bible teaches that we were created to help each other and the Christian faith is built on the foundations of communion and fellowship, asking for help and being your sister’s keeper. My aunty Ede, as everything as she is, has a tribe of people who support her and the last thing you will do is shame her for it. No one became richer or better or more successful by insisting on doing everything on their own; that is exhausting and it is an unnecessary burden. I mean I love a good grass to grace, started from the bottom now we’re here, coming from nothing to something story as much as the next girl, but that’s all it is, a story. It is definitely not necessary. With the rise in popularity of YouTube as a career, and a thousand other DIY narratives that following your passion and glamourize success, admitting that you need help or you feel confused, makes you stupid or lazy or ungrateful. So many people buy into this narrative and get tricked into believing that they are one viral video or one Instagram post away from being great. The status quo often overlooks the potential of having too many options to be just as heavy a burden, and as overwhelming, as having too few options. 

There is also something about the rhetoric and dialogue around faith, and asserting your absolute trust in God, that makes one sound lazy and in search of an easy way out or worse, like one wants a perfect life with cotton candy and unicorns and rainbows, that obviously doesn’t exist. As a Christian, I think it is quite the opposite, in that, faith in God is NOT the easiest or most convenient thing in the world, not by a long shot. Being a Christian and using the Bible as a life manual in no way guarantees a perfect life, if anything it prepares you for criticism and having to fight for what you believe to be true and what you want to achieve. Faith doesn’t eliminate obstacles or difficulty, faith merely removes fear, which is not to be undermined because it makes all the difference. I mean going to church on a Sunday and being reminded of how God has got your back is an amazing feeling, and it is no wonder Maya Angelou refers to religion as “the opium of the people.” However, faith is easiest and most glamorous on a Sunday morning. Unfortunately, it isn’t about what happens on Sunday, it is what happens on Monday and Tuesday and every day after that, but of course, no one ever talks about that because it is not nearly as pretty and perfect and Instagram-worthy. 

Keeping the faith is a battle, in that way, I guess this is a story about putting up a good fight. Perseverance is persistence in doing something despite difficulty or delay in achieving success. Perseverance is continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure, or opposition. Perseverance is a relentless pursuit of a desired goal. Perseverance is consistency. Perseverance is absolute refusal to give up hope. Perseverance is putting up a good fight. My Aunty Ede works a “9 to 5” where she oversees an entire Human Resources team for a really big bank in Nigeria. Her “9 to 5” is more like a “6 to 9, or 10” on most days and this does not include all the weekends she’s had to come in, but she does it without complaining. And like in most corporations, her work, her diligence and her sacrifice is often overlooked and taken advantage of in fact, but it’s ok because she doesn’t do it for them. She does it for her children because they deserve the absolute version of her. She does it for her mother, who has taught her that giving up is never an option. She does it for herself because she needs to know she’s doing her absolute best. She also makes it to church almost every Sunday and attends a mid week service because she does not flake on her commitments, she knows that her faith is a priority. Her faith is her strength, it centres her and gives her peace.

Resilience is the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties. Capacity is the maximum amount that something can contain, the maximum amount of water that a boat can hold before it begins to sink. So, essentially a vessel cannot know its strength and the maximum amount that it can contain, until some water is poured in. Sink or swim? Resilience is being able to float, or better still, being able to breath under water, resilience is perseverance. Capacity is also having the ability, fitness, or quality necessary to do or achieve a specified thing. Thus, resilience is very much a choice because the fact that a body possesses a quality does not guarantee its use. If you don’t swim, you will sink. Sink or swim? Drowning doesn’t automatically mean you can’t swim, sometimes it means that you didn’t, you chose not to. There is a fundamental difference between ‘can’t’ and ‘won’t.’ Resilience does not have the time for mind games, resilience requires you to go through life not trick it or avoid it. My aunty Ede knows resilience, in fact she breathes it. There is no other way to put it when you have to balance a “9 to 5” and 4 children and writing a novel, while going through the unimaginable, mind-numbing loss of 2012, the kind of pain that nothing can prepare you for. In university, every time I had one of those weeks where 6 assignments were due, and things to do for Black Ties, and I had to clean my apartment and cook food, I would think of her and it would seem like nothing, in comparison. This is not to say that, because some people have gone through more difficult things in their own life, your own struggles are irrelevant. It just offers some perspective, because maybe you are making something more of a thing than it needs to be. And I mean, if you think about it, YOU have probably been through worse and survived, so you’re good and strong and capable. Maybe you’re drowning and you just need to be reminded that you can swim, is all. 

To Kindness and Friendship

Dear September,

This is the one where we talk about kindness and friendship. As you know, March is Women’s History Month, so the plan for the blog is to talk about different positive attributes and character traits, and the women in my life that exemplify these qualities. I don't know a lot of well-behaved women (and I love it) so please bare with me.

This week, its kindness and friendship, because my mother is the kindest soul I know and the best friend a girl can have. I’m going to try my best to not cry because ain’t nobody got that new laptop money! So, here it goes... this is what my mama taught me.

A couple of months ago, my friend Sinmi wrote an article where she openly discussed lessons she learned from books and in conversations and in life in general and it was incredible, so insightful and so full of wisdom. One of my favourite quotes from her piece was “Be kind, Bury that instinct to be any other way, and just be kind.” I liked it first of all because it reminded me of her, she is my best friend’s older sister, so I don’t see her very often, but when I do she is very direct, a sharp shooter, quite sarcastic but also very warm and welcoming; qualities I find refreshing. Admittedly, fluent sarcasm is not for everybody but it is very much for me. It is the same energy and authenticity that my mother embodies so well. I also identify with these words because they offset the consensus that we millennials seem to have; to be incredibly self-involved and act like being kind is sooooo difficult, because you know? we’re too busy trying to be great and somehow being nice makes you weak. It doesn’t, I agree with Kahlil Gibran when he says, “tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolutions.” Not every kindness can be donating a kidney because you only have two. I mean, these heroic acts are inspiring and important and noble, and this in no way diminishes that, but most times, something as simple to do as a smile, is enough. One act of kindness has the potential to shape your whole day and change your entire life.

The Oxford Dictionary defines kindness as the quality of being friendly, generous and considerate. Being friendly means treating everyone like your friend until they act otherwise, this means you cannot be even slightly judgmental or pick and choose who to be pleasant to. It is no more kindness when you decide who deserves it, that’s called nepotism and any halfwit can do that. Generosity is the cheerful willingness to give beyond what is expected of you. Consideration, more than a Rihanna and SZA song, is a mindfulness of one’s surroundings and a resolve to act in the interest of as many as doesn’t interfere with one’s personal well-being. And now being fully aware of the definition of kindness, I can confidently share that over the past couple of months, I have lived in my parents house and I have gotten to see just how KIND my mother is, you know? the good kind. She does it is so effortlessly that you begin to expect it and almost never stop to think and take stock and compare. This then begs the question of kindness being more of a lifestyle than a mere character trait, which seems like a whole other ballgame but it really isn’t. 

In her book, “5 Gifts to Give Yourself,” author Lori Hill talks about the gift of kindness, she says “give yourself some kindness today until you’re filled and pass it on.” Lori Hill recognizes that no matter how hard you try, you cannot give what you do not have. My mother is 50 years old and she looks about 25 and a half, because she takes care of herself. She constantly does what makes her soul happy, never at the expense of others though, so there is no guilt. She takes a two-hour morning walk at least four times a week, she does a honey, turmeric, milk and baking soda face mask two or three times a week, she gets a facial, massage and body scrub at least once every six weeks, she never holds a grudge, she minds her own business, she prays one hour every night and goes for about six different prayer meetings outside of church on Sunday and you wonder why she glistens and damn near floats when she walks by. 

My mother has taught me to appreciate who I am and not try to be someone else, consciously by constantly reminding me of my own greatness and unconsciously by living her best life. When I ask her, she equates her grace and authenticity and her comfortability in her own skin, to age and the wisdom that comes along with it. But no shade (ok maybe a little shade), there are older people who don’t have this glow and who haven’t made it to this place mentally. Maybe it is what Jason Scotts said, maybe it is that “when you show people kindness and respect, despite petty differences, you are bringing positive vibes into your life and into the lives of others.” My mother never shies away from necessary confrontation, but at the same times, she manages to never be hostile. She has no problem calling you out and telling you off because that is who she is. The difference is she tries her best to focus on the situation, she vocalizes her emotions without ever making it personal, which is very hard to do. I mean, she’s human (believe or not) so she sometimes has crazy road rage and in the heat of the moment, she may act out of character, but it balances out because she is never afraid to admit when she’s wrong. Her intentions are never to belittle anyone and to her, maintaining peace and positive vibes for herself and anyone involved is more important than who wins the argument. 

In conversations with other people and in navigating your relationships, there is a tendency to isolate our own actions and idealize the other people’s intentions. When we hit an awkward pause and in the presence of a little tension, we feel extremely uncomfortable and we assume responsibility and make it our life’s mission to make everyone happy, so everyone can move on as swiftly as possible. I hate confrontation and often I justify my decision to not speak up in uncomfortable situations, by convincing myself that keeping the peace is more important than whatever it is that I am feeling. The rhetoric around kindness is often tangled with that of forgiveness and rooted in emotional maturity, with the promise of being the bigger person. In that way, kindness can become an opium of sorts, more so than most other positive attributes, the feeling of instant gratification has the insane ability to cloud one’s judgment. So be kind from and with your heart, but bring your head along, but I know this too well because my mama already showed me how. The only thing to do know is to remember this in the moment, not twenty minutes after, when we are facing off or two hours later, when the bliss of winning the argument has already turned to crippling guilt.