God bless women!
No matter what we do, we never seem able to escape the news or silly jokes. There’s always someone out there telling us what to do or describing in great detail something we should be doing.
From a presidential candidate declaring his personal description of the perfect job role/place for women in society in a not so secret meeting. You know those kind of secret meetings they have after an interview where they decide not to give you the job just because they don’t like your shirt or your smile. Sadly they forget you’re still in the reception and they come back out with some corporate acceptable reason for not employing you.
To a president’s wife rally up the troops for battle, encouraging women to take a stand, to shape history. To do what women are designed by nature to do, birth something awesome, only this time she’s asking for a communal birthing experience. The birth of the next American president. With every speech, the groans of labour grow louder, contraction lengths increase, and deep breathes decrease.
And we make a full cycle back to an incumbent president demanding his wife goes back to all the rooms allocated to her by virtue of her sex. Rooms where the tremor and strength in her voice alludes to the largesse of his love and place in his life.
God bless women!
It’s no wonder we can never get it right, cos we can’t please all of the people all of the time. Like a learner at a T-junction facing the traffic light, a yellow box in front, speed limit and a speeding camera in place, is the woman who hasn’t learnt to put her earphones on and drown the noise in tunes that get her dreams dancing.
Not everything will make sense in this minute. Not everything will make sense in time, but one thing/ something will make a little sense each time. Hold unto it, give it your best, it might not be what you need but it will build your confidence. Give you that little humph to stand and gaze a little further a field.
Should we all hate Trump? Should we all love him? Should all women wear skirts only? To each his own, if his job description for a woman suits your ambitions or ties in with your principles by all means do as you please and follow his path.
Where are our weapons for mass reproduction? The clarion call has been made and Michelle’s call is a dignified one; or is it? Depends on which way the world stands to you, in need of redemption or just wasted so stuff it in the bin, it’s all going down in flames after all.
And we’ve all had dreams of steamy rooms, filled with smoke, groans and sweat. So why frown at the kitchen when sent in there, Buhari has spoken who dares question his excellency in his palace, certainly not me. The piper has set the tune, the lyrics of Ewedu, gbegiri ati amala from Iya Bose’s kitchen re-vibrate through the house. Oya get cooking!
As for me, well I am just sitting quietly in my corner in a room, doing the job life has given me, fighting battles (some I started, some others started, some I got roped into) I hope some day would birth something awesome.
God bless the world!