For a long time, I thought I didn't want children. There's a good chance I might not have any. But I just keep thinking what if I have a child, just one.

Maybe when I'm thirty and have attended all the raves and twerked in a club.

I'm playing Russian Roulette here. What if I do and what if I don't?

My views are still changing. I've always wanted a hysterectomy.

I've been asking myself which of my opinions and beliefs are formed by people other than me.

I remember asking my mom her views on motherhood. She said “not bad, but I wouldn't do it again”

And I love the honesty. She didn't try to make it seem like what it's not.

I have aunties without children, a lot of them who didn't have children for so many reasons.

My niece is 2 and covered herself in glue recently.

Is observe and ask myself, what do I want?

But then again, I have a rave to prepare for. These things I'm feeling can wait.

For some reason I decided to put the voices in my head aside and give them a shot but it didn't work.

I felt myself shrinking, dumbing down, playing small. With this person, I knew that it was always going to be doing the heavy lifting.

So I asked them about feminism which they have a very ridiculous answer. That was my cue to let go and I dislike the word “closure” because it's meant for wigs but in that moment it all made sense.

That wasn't what I wanted and it will keep on disappointing me until I let it go.

Today I was really happy because I helped someone with something- that's who I want to remain.

I don't want to shrink or pretend not to care or start counting words. I was made for so much more. I am worth so much more.

These reminders come that I'm loved at home. My mom, aunties, grand parents, friends have all marked stakes in my heart and it will be very disrespectful to make myself small for anybody.

This is your reminder, your people will find you and love you exactly as you were- with your delusions and grandiose dreams.

I remember our ritual of telling each other about our day. Sometimes I bring out my phone, only to realize there's really nobody I can rant to, who would listen with as much precision as you did.

I still stalk you even though I've muted you. I see it and think about what led you to post it. It's my way of keeping abreast with what's happening in your life.

I miss the reassurances, there are some days I need it badly.

Other people have come but you've set the standard. I know what consideration feels like. I know what effortless conversation is.

That's why I can't get around talking about you, it won't make sense to anyone but us.

With you, I could tell you that the next few months will be the hardest. That I'm scared I don't have it all together.

I want to tell you about the last book I read or how I've not been writing as much. I would have loved to tell you how my nail broke during laundry and I just sighed.

You know I've not finished re-read Americanah? I will finish it, I promise

There are a lot of things I haven't said but if you read this, know that I still think about you.

I really really hope the universe is kind to you.

All my love,

A.

I was bummed, berating myself for not recalling. (I should be kinder to myself)

The past few days have been busy: I'm doing everything all at once.

Before on the first of August, I would have been the first to message everyone, but I can't even find the will.

A lot has been happening, a lot has happened and a lot will still happen.

I just remembered I have a newsletter and started writing because I refused to follow my mom somewhere.

You see, it's complicated. On one hand, I don't want to be where I'm not going to be happy. On the other hand, she said she wanted company and I understand.

Knowing me, I would turn my decision several times in my head.

My aunt was complaining about seeing stretch marks on her skin and I couldn't help but laugh. I was complaining about the same thing and now I'm consoling someone else.

So when people ask how I'm doing, I don't know what to say, which part of me they want to know.

I think I do it a lot, polish my persona.

I have two names and the one I give depends on my relationship with that person.

anyway, it's funny you should ask how I'm doing because:

1. I don't know what to tell you

2. I would most likely lie to you

Till next time, and please stay alive.

This is not my first mark, but something about it being visible, on my arm that I love to flaunt shook me to my core. It also reminded me that I only like insecurities when they're hidden.

I messaged my friend, telling her “I have stretch marks on my skin, am I getting fat?”

Even the best of us are not exempt from societal beauty standards.

She started telling me everybody has them, not to worry etc but I still worried.

At thought occured was when I have money, I'll visit the aesthetician and have it removed.

This thought didn't just land it my head, it came from the conditioning of seeing visible stretch marks as something wrong or a flaw.

It was a situation of a miniscule fear coming to pass and you are left questioning why.

I'm writing this as a wakeup call to myself because I have to come to the realization that stretch marks whether visible or not, are just stretch marks.

Weight gain, hormonal fluctuations and all other causes show that your body is changing and so are you.

I read an article recently on the New York Times on this exact same problem I'm facing and it reminded me that the problem was never with the marks, it was all about perception.

This post is not to debate moral grounds on cosmetic surgery but to tell myself that I too, still have a long way to go.

That the best of us still struggle with something.

1. When they write about me: As a writer myself this means a lot. It may not be a literary masterpiece but it makes my heart swell regardless

2. When they send me money without me asking; I dislike asking people for things only if it's very necessary.

   There's something sweet about money just hitting your account with a “for you” description.

3. Holding doors and pulling out seats: This goes both ways and chivalry is cute

4. Allowing me to be gentle: I'm always the one planning and setting things in motion. I like it when I'm allowed to be safe around someone. With some people I'm calculating every word from my mouth. Not a way to live 🤦🏾‍♀️

5. A person who tries: Someone came into my life and showed me the power of trying. They may not get it right everyday but they try- they show up, they make space, they try!

6. A partner who can indulge in my feminist wahala: I can send them articles to read or plugs for donations and they would acknowledge

7. Reassurance: “You can do it”, “ I'm proud of you” etc. I say it to myself but it's different coming from another person

Sexual things I find attractive:

1. A good kisser: Kissing is an art which takes time to master. The attractive thing again is trying

2. Public displays of affection: Holding hands, hugs, grabbing my butt, a kiss on my neck. What's not to like?

3. Someone who knows how to EMP: I'm not going to discuss what EMP means, but it's attractive having a person who understands a woman's body

4. Duality during sex: One minute they are fucking your brains out, the next minute it's tender.

5. Talking through it: Deep sigh

I wrote this with someone in mind and I hope they see it. (Or not)

The story is simple; I fell in love but it didn't work out. My life is upside-down right now and God knows I'm dealing with a lot.

I can't even write about it in detail because I'm still processing it. But it was a wonderful experience to be loved by that person no even if it was for a short time.

A part of me knows that this kind of love will or might not come again. I don't know how to describe it but it's like being in safe hands. It's being able to slip and knowing someone will catch you.

It came to me by accident but I pray everyone experiences something like that.

I might get over it or I might not. Years later, my mind will still drift back there but it was good while it lasted and I don't take it for granted.

Grief is the price we pay for love, and that's what I'm doing, grieving.

Until next time.

Many things in my life aren't right, but it's okay. I share a very microscopic part of my life here on here.

A lot of things I do are still not right but it's okay. There's a conviction that although it may tary, it will manifest

It may also never be right and still okay.

What's that saying, “As long as there's life, there's hope”

I don't expect you reader to understand this article and that's okay

To C, there's never a right time in my life for anything and there might never be but you, as well as all my angels have my heart.

For a long time, my mother always bought pads for me so I never really considered it. I was PRIVELDGED

If my pads finished, I had aunties who could hand me one.

A pack of pads for the duration of my flow is 2k and I bleed every month. I'm spending 24k on pads a year. I can choose not to be bothered because I can afford it but others can't and they matter

But my flow comes with pain so strong that I'm bed ridden. I call whichever family or friend is available and down painkillers. We have not started talking about menstrual leave yet.

The whole message is that a lot of people cannot afford pads. A girl in the village who hawks or fries garri would use a rag to hold blood.

I might have a family member somewhere who cannot make ends meet. The daughter's in that family will make do with whatever unsanitary products

In secondary schools women would show up to teach us about menstruation and hygiene, sharing pads for free.

The reason some girls ask you for pads with shame on their face is because they cannot afford to buy it. They economize- using one pad a day.

Pads and condoms should not be something that one cannot easily access

Insecurity has made it harder for feminist who do the work to reach more girls.

It should be shameful someone brings up a luxurious starter kit and we applaud

Mind you, we are trying to raise awareness for pap smears and HPV vaccine in Nigeria.

Even before this whole hullabaloo came around I've been a strong advocate for free pads. It has saved my life too

Pick a pad is going around trying to eradicate period poverty.

On the 28 is menstrual awareness day and they have a target

No amount is too small. Even if you don't have because I understand the economy is shit, you can repost

I never thought I would see a day that sanitary essentials would be heavily commodified. May God help us.

Please do well to give. You are saving someone's life. A girl out there wouldn't have to worry about pads for a month because of your donation.

All my love,

Hotpoundedyam

Growing up I watched romance movies and they made me swoon and want it. But I'm older and more guarded

I always talk about growing up with aunties but it came with a cost.

For most of them, the key to thriving back then was being single and childless. That was the hack. A bad marriage could ruin your life. An unplanned child could set you back

My mother for instance had a great support system. She could leave me and go to work almost immediately.

Now I'm here

Have I liked people? Of course but it comes with a cost

Every since I knew I didn't want children, my dating options are limited. Coupled with the fact that I'm a feminist with pretty good morals- I will not take a man's surname. My family didn't labour for my achievements to be swept away under something called “love”

Falling in love means centering someone else and because I love fully, that would be dangerous.

I have places to travel, I have books to write and I have the whole world to see. I fear falling in love will limit because when it comes to me vs anything, I will choose myself no matter how painful

Becoming somebodys wife or girlfriend places a bounty on my head.

Immediately people I like tell me they dream of children or starting a family, I retreat. I don't want my life to be a cautionary tale.

Ten years down the line that person leaves because you won't change your mind. Even love has a limit

I love love. I love weddings. I'm glad when people find their soulmates but the institution is something I cannot afford

Till then I'll clap for others knowing my love story is something else entirely

I have no clue why I'm writing this actually. Maybe I just want to talk. There are so many tabs open in my head.

Why am I here? No clue

I think I should believe myself more. That's something you might not know I struggle with. I feel that I try and outsource thing I can do.

I remember writing something (the first draft was horrible) and I was like get somebody else to write it.

But with time I reshaped the draft to something I'm proud of.

I catch myself doing it. Like today. I was ready to say “get xyz on this”. Not myself, but another person.

I find myself wanting to leave social media. I have a lot to do. A lot to see. My brief time here has given me incredible friends. My wives

(When that book comes out, I'll notify you or not)

And don't be like me, don't postpone happiness. Take it when it comes.

There's a lot to say, some I cannot put into words because I can't.

But everything good will come. For you. For me. For everybody.

Till next time xx

She writes, taking it slowly and checks her WhatsApp every minute not sure what exactly she's looking for.

She complains about the economy, and the inflated prices but she will still buy that sharwama and overpriced pastry

She reads, making a habit of keeping a journal. Did she tell you she's writing? Definitely hard naming the characters because there's many beautiful names out there. Obiageri is one

A pimple is building under her skin. No rest for the wicked indeed. This week she saw something about someone she once knew. Before it would have gotten under her skin but now there's calm. That's growth she tells herself happy.

A family member in the diaspora celebrated their birthday. She watched her aunties crowd a phone and sing in their croaked voice. The memory is so precious that she takes a picture

Midweek there's a text from her ex.

‘I'm in your city’ it says. Something happens. Her breath seizes, her chest constricts.

“To do what” she replies

In the midst of everything, she realizes she might still miss this person. A special kind of longing. She might never get them back, but it's okay. She has completed loving.

I will not be going on and on about the validity of trans women or whatever back and forth happening. The more feminism becomes a mainstream thing, the more people get diluted version and DO NOT read.

Feminism must be intersectional and these new wave of femininsts I'm seeing really don't understand. Class, race, gender all overlap.

You, an oppressed class should not oppress another person.

If you support LGB without the T, you are wasting your time. Pack it up.

So I will not be afraid to call out a million transphobes whether feminists or not. I will fight for all women (trans, cis and black etc) till my last breath.

Everybody should get a grip because if we are not careful feminism would be reserved for the cis, white and able.

I ask myself why can't I write? I've written others, so what is happening?

A part knows I can just submit shitty work but another part of me hates mediocrity like mad. I hate when I know I can do better.

I message my friend, she tells me to take my time. Not to pressure myself. I'm grateful for her but again she'll not understand. I don't even understand myself.

I tell myself it's just period hormones but I'm afraid, very afraid that maybe I don't know how to write.

I've quit the internet. I mean Twitter. I need to go missing but for some reason I cannot. I find myself performing these days. All is not well. Depression hates I moving target, so maybe I need to move.

I tell myself I have time. But that is not helping. I also need to change the way I view time. Not something wasted but something experienced. Till then I'll try not to have a breakdown.

The concept of french dating is having multiple partners; being committed to everyone and nobody at the same time. In English it's called Polyamory

You may think it's cheating, but no. These people know what they're invested in. Let's say a woman, Mrs X has multiple partners. Matthew gets Monday, Pierre gets Tuesday, Jean gets Wednesday, Thomas gets Thursday and Fridays are all for her, providing time to recuperate.

How did it start?

In the 18th and 19th century, relationships outside of marriages were common. People have affairs with different genders and different people. It later became a thing with writers like Simone de Beauvoir talking about open relationships.

Then during the French protests of 1960, many young people challenged ideas of love, sex and marriage.

On November 15 1999, the Pact civil de solidarite (PACS) was legally established to protect couples who cohabite but aren't married. Although it was first undertaken by same sex couples, over time heterosexual people got involved.

Marriage can be defined as a legal contract binding two parties together. But what happens when it the going gets tough? Divorce. That alone comes with work because the government wouldn't let you go so easily. You involved them for a reason.

So PACS was a route to live freely. To get the benefits without commitment. This article isn't about marriage but of dating style. Shakespeare wrote: “the course of true love never did run smooth”. That is the reality of some. One can be happy married, single or with multiple partners.

You can live separate lives, want privacy and still be romanced. People may not understand, but that's their business. Love, sex and wine are boundless. Flirt today

And listen to smooth criminal by Sade as you read this.

I grew up surrounded by plenty women. In Nigeria, everybody is your aunt. But the women around me have done everything. The first pioneers. I look at them and realized they've sacrificed a lot, endured a lot, suffered a lot. If during my time people are still siding with a rapist, then imagine how it was for them. These women divorced husbands, stayed child free, adopted children and built careers.

Now some are dead. Most of them greying and old. The have given us the blueprint for success. We also will be grey and old. How do we want the next generation to see us? As people who didn't try? Godforbid

This applies to every single thing. The queer elders didn't fight for you to sit on your ass. You have to honor them by going forth to shine. Remember never take permission for something that already belongs to you.

You'll be wondering how I got this sudden burst of energy. I'm at a point in my life where I have the option of being polictically correct or saying the truth. I must say the truth. I cannot betray a marginalized group just to be liked. It will hunt me forever.

Till next time my darlings.

It's a Yoruba word which means debt, but in the Nigerian sense, loosely means “wahala”.

We are neck deep in wahala. Soaked in it. There are so many things to talk about, so many to do, so many things to write. Originally I didn't want to post this. I'm clearing out my mail and waiting for something. But I thought fuck it- what I want will come either way.

In my draft, this was supposed to be a rant- talking about biphobia, the state of the country, feminism etc. and I'm left wondering, where do I start?

This morning I tried to get up on time for a free ride. Solanges “Cranes in the Sky” was playing. I tried to dance it away, I ran myself in circles just to keep myself busy. I slept it away. I sexed it away. You should listen to the song

I used to write. Then I stopped, then I joined this app. Then I started. And I wrote ten stories during an internship. I wish you could read it.

I joined somewhat of an academic cult but I left. I don't think writing is that serious. I feel you should enjoy it. When I write these mini articles, I just write. My spelling and maybe tenses are bad, but who cares?

Everyday I'm trapped in a state of avant and apres. I have to constantly remind myself- I have time. Time to fail, time to re-write drafts. Time to start again. And I should probably delete tiktok and twitter.
Someone I like will read this- like is a stretch because that person is petty like me. But I have to tell you something: just like children know they are gay or find out later on in life, trans children feel the same. The least we can do is support them.

These rape cases and stories make me tired. Yesterday my friend called and narrated a very troubling experience she had because of her sexuality. It is well or Ogadinma in Igbo.

Let me close with this quote from the Bible, I find it to be quite a literary masterpiece: “should we continue in sin so that grace may abound?”

everyday you are battling with something, even with fellow feminists. You try to tell them about class and it's crickets. You try to tell them about gender indendity and they never understand. God will punish JK Rowling and her minions. There's someone I want to call, but she a lot of people's feminist fairy godmother. But ever since that transphobic interview she gave, transgender women have not had peace. I was deeply disappointed.

But feminist is not a bunch of roses. I'm aethist but there's something Apostle Paul said about fighting the good fight for the reward is in heaven. That's exactly how feminism is: you will continue fighting.

At the end of the day, hotpoundedyam is human. I have argued, I have convinced, I have lost friends, I have cried and said God why couldn't I just be ignorant? Why does it feel like it's me against the world

But, maybe my reward is in heaven. Maybe when I die, someone somewhere will talk about how I helped them. Someone somewhere will remember my little work, to help undo transphobia.

Maybe one day, I'll look down from heaven and see two gay people in Nigeria showing love openly and it will be worth all the labour.

Knowing I don't want children changed my life. It made me center the now and when instead of the what ifs. I plan my life based on current happenings.

Growing up with child free aunties were a blessing. This women grew in love. They embraced the same things society shamed them for. My late aunt was an opionated, child free, wicked woman and she would have loved who I'm becoming.

I talk to my mom about motherhood. Of how her experience as an eldest daughter shaped motherhood. Of how I don't want to inherit some of her guilty. These conversations and necessary. One day she's not going to be here. The only left will be memories. So while she's on earth, let me hold something.

I will consider my greatgrandmother who I don't know. I will consider my grandmother who's challenges I also don't know. I will consider my mother who is a museum of them both. And I will consider myself.

For the love in my heart for people. For people, for places, for things. But most especially for her, always.

Let's get started:

1. Take full responsibility for your situation: being poor is your fault. As you were sleeping, your mates were hustling. Nothing for you oh

2. Rich people should be your motivation: people with unaccountable sources of income. No too much talk

3. Don't take economics class: economics concerns itself with ethics, money doesn't. G for guide. Or you will suffer

4. Lock in: Whatever that means sef. Just lock in

5. Manifest by midnight: this is the real deal. Buy candles and yoga mat. If you perish, you perish

For my wives reading this, if one of you becomes a billionaire please share your wealth with me. Shey we rise by lifting others. All the best on your journey to unlimited funds.