You Deserve To Take Up Space.

...there Was Cement In Her Soul. It Had Been There For A While, An Early Morning Disease Of Fatigue, Shapeless Desires, Brief Imaginary Glints Of Other Lives She Could Be Living, That Over The Months Melded Into A Piercing Homesickness.

I Have My Father's Lopsided Mouth. When I Smile, My Lips Slope To One Side. My Doctor Sister Calls It My Cerebral Palsy Mouth. I Am Very Much A Daddy's Girl, And Even Though I Would Rather My Smile Wasn't Crooked, There Is Something Moving For Me About Having A Mouth Exactly Like My Father's.

At Some Point I Was A Happyafricanfeminist Who Does Not Hate Men. And Who Likes Lip Gloss And Who Wears High Heels For Herself But Not For Men.

I Had People Read It Early On And, You Know, Well-meaning People Said To Me, You Should Take Out The Blogs. I Didn't Get Much Positive Feedback. Only Because Most Of These People Were Protective Of Me - It Was Sort Of Like A "tone It Down, Make It Easier To Swallow" Kind Of Thing. And I Just Thought If I Do That Then It's Not The Book I Want To Write.

If I Had Not Grown Up In Nigeria- And If All I Knew Of Africa Were Of Popular Images- I Too Would Think That Africa Was A Place Of Beautiful Landscapes, Beautiful Animals And Incomprehensible People Fighting Sensless Wars, Dying Of Poverty And Aids- Unable To Speak For Themselves And Waiting To Be Saved By A Kind White Foreigner.