The Genesis

Looking back, I never really had a safe place to freely communicate.

So as a result, I refrained from doing so.

This eventually led to me lacking the confidence to communicate openly.

So I remained a listener. An observer.

And I was okay with that.

There were times I had many things to say and there were other times I wanted to simply share a thought.

But often times, I remained silent.

Everyone around me seemed to have so much to say, more important things, it felt like.

And they articulated it loudly and boldly.

In contrast, I was quiet and timid. Soft-spoken.

I couldn't compete. I didn't want to.

Ironically, when I did have the opportunities to speak and share my thoughts, what I wanted to say seemed so irrelevant in that moment. On top of that, all eyes would be fixated on me.

Every person watching, listening intently. Paying close attention to what I would say. They were curious about how I would articulate my ideas and what knowledge I possessed. Waiting patiently, some impatiently, for my response.

So the easiest thing to do to quickly divert the attention away from myself was to close up and respond with phrases like, "I'm not sure" or "It's nothing."

And just as quickly as those moment came, it passed. I returned to my role as a listener.

On the flip side, in those special moments when I would have something to say and a strong desire to share it, I found myself spending hours attentively listening to the other person—not able or 'allowed' to get a word out. The typical outcome was that the other party would conclude our conversation without gaining any insight into my thoughts or who I am.

Looking back, I guess I had conditioned the people around me to believe that I had nothing to say or contribute. So they acted accordingly.

It was quite sad, maybe even pathetic?

(t's okay, you were probably thinking it, unless you find some personal connection, in which case this could evoke a sense of uncomfortable nostalgia.)

So instead, growing up--I wrote.

It was the only way I felt I could express myself.

As a child, I wrote to my family, I wrote to my teachers, I wrote about my day in my journal, I write lyrics to songs I created, I wrote poems.

I wrote to God to ask him for a little sister.

I wrote to my parents apologizing for my moments of attitude.

I wrote to keep from crying in elementary school when I would get bullied for being African.

And as I got older, I continued to write. I never stopped.

I wrote as a way to decompress, to organize my thoughts, to make sense of the very interesting world around me.

My brain operated better when I wrote. I found words easier to dissect. Ideas appeared clearer to convey. Communication was more effective.

I found my authentic voice in writing. I found contentment. I found inspiration. Most importantly, I found my confidence, boldness.

Two decades later and much has changed. For the better.

I have learned over the years that my words hold so much power, whether written or spoken.

I have learned that my voice counts.

And I have learned that--

As a Nigerian woman in America,

as a black woman in the healthcare field,

as a young creator, influencer,

as a sister, friend, wife, and future mother,

as a woman of God,

my words absolutely matter.

Writing for me was and still is a therapeutic art form. It's medicinal.

It has served me as a creative outlet.

It has served me as a safe place.

This blog will be that for me, except this time, I have an audience.

So here's the genesis.

Congratulations, you made it.

(a page from my journal; elementary school. circa 2001)