Drostless Nyash (lol) & Other Gifts
So… before I get into today's little reflection/rant/whatever it becomes (because I never really know until I start writing), I think you, my nosy reader, might find it amusing that this is actually the second draft (pre-edits, of course). Where is the first?
Aw, dear, I am so glad you asked!
Well, I set a 15-minute timer on the most dangerous writing app and was clacking away on my iPad when I looked up and realized that I never actually selected "start typing." Sooo, a bish was clacking and clicking away energetically and passionately for at least 5 minutes… raised her head… and not one letter had been typed. Imagine if this were a passionate email to an annoying boss, or the core of my heart I was pouring into a love letter (do kids write those anymore?), or some prophetic download from the universe I was meant to share with the world to foreshadow judgment day (lmao)… and I just threw all the vim, ginger, and courage away.
Sighs
Now that I have given you a peek into the workings of my mind—quite on the daily—I would like to share 3 vignettes along three philosophies which I was blessed to interrogate a few nights ago.
It is not always that we are able to, in awareness, catch the gifts of introspection that the universe gives us. Life is busy, the economy is hard, petrol prices are shit, and until a few days ago, the sun would be the reason you have little to no motivation to think in these parts of sub-Saharan Africa. Today, well, this day, however, I got to ponder:
The gift of facing one's fears,
The gift of novelty in experience, and
The gift of knowing that I am neither the cause nor the solution to the problems of the world—through experiencing vulnerability that I had to witness but could not fix.
You see, humans, eh—we try to control our lives. I mean the immediate world around us (unless you are the orange-faced man and his entourage who want to control existence itself… pffff)—and often we fail.
Picture this: I had consistent electricity in my apartment—until one day, during a rainstorm, on a phone call with my person in Nigeria. Fuiiii… the light goes off. Can you imagine the horror of having a Lagosian laugh at my plight? Because I have constantly bragged to her that we—here in the "Abroad" they call Accra, Ghana—do not suffer the perils of Lagos. This is the part where I burst into song and go "Oh Godddd arise and let my h-enemies be scattered" and start questioning the so-called table that the Christian god is said to have set before me in the presence of my Lagosian h-enemies (lol) in Psalms.
Besides the point. I always spoke to her of my electricity coverage like I had control, and when I least expected it, the universe offered my drostless nyash (proper people can read the meaning of this word as "naked ass") to my enemies in my presence, and I was immediately humbled by the reminder that no matter how much control we humans think we have over a situation, we fucking really don't! Most things are just what they are. We can attempt to direct outcomes because laws of physics—energy put in must come out in some way. But the wayyyyyyyyyyyyy it will come out, it lass lass… eezz wharridiss.
So back to my evening.
It was a Saturday. I decided it was time to come back into color, so I grabbed my bleach kit, bleached my hair and my brows slightly (last time I overdid the brows, I looked like a browless Lady Voldemort something and could not look at my face for a while), so this time I bleached it… slightly. There were, as usual, events happening in Accra, and I had peeped that Afrodite and friends were having one of their numerous girls-only events. I have been eyeing these events for a while. My ass has been in Trumpsville, so I have been able to attend only one. After "fighting" with one of their organizers for always having events when I am not around (insert sad face emoji here), serendipity shined on both of us, and this event—a girls' night slow wine dance something—was happening when I was in Accra. So I chose to attend.
I must confess, apart from the places I call home, socially, Afrodite and friends' girls-only convening is probably one of the freest spaces I step into when I am in Ghana. Without the male gaze, the girlies just get to live. It is such a beautiful sight to behold—witnessing other girls, womxn, etc., existing just because. Looking cute just because. Feeling free just because. Knowing no man is going to be up in their business because WE… yes, we chose to come together to have a space just for us.
I will not lie, I was skeptical initially of these girls-only spaces because some of my biggest fallouts have been with female-bodied people, and it has been female-bodied people who have somewhat made parts of my life unbearable. But also, if I think about it, it is the girlies who have shown up (except for my platonic husband) for me. Well… okay, maybe "the girlies are who have showed up" is a bit debatable, but you get the point. My experiences with female-bodied people haven't been the best, so you can imagine my pleasant surprise when I felt so much joy in this space. And I felt I could trust it too. (PS: Does not mean that I think male-bodied people make sense to me. They often don't, but that is a different, probably lengthier brain dump which I will not do here.)
Anywho… back to the event. I wore a tiny crop ruched top, wrapped a piece of cloth my ex got me from (I think) Senegal, painted my eyebrows iridescent green, and of course eye paint popping, 6-inch block heels elevating, and carried my merry little goddess self to the event. Oh, it was amazing. Seeing people I know, meeting new people… especially because my agenda for going was: "I am not in the mood to make new friends. I do not want to make any new friends." lol.
So here comes the first lesson/epiphany/gift: Facing my fears.
The last year was a challenging time in community here in Ghana, with my name in people's mouths when these peeps knew shit from shine—absolutely nothing of my life. With fallouts from people I thought would at least give me the benefit of the doubt and call me into query to hear me. And loss of relationships I valued dearly. I was pissed on so many levels, and I borderline swore off community even though I know how much I value (particularly consistency) in community. I struggle to feel like I belong in community because of—among many things—the state of my perpetual (un)belonging.
I walked into this space with the weight of exhaustion from existing in my liminal space of community. I am never anywhere long enough to fully belong or be remembered. Once I leave, life continues, and the people who remain become each other's priority—while I fade into the background. I understand this, but it doesn't make it any less difficult—or borderline distressing—when you think you have people, but then ask yourself: Do I have people? Because you wonder: Do I know them enough? Do they know me enough for me to reach out? Especially now that I am becoming clearer that belonging to the same community does not necessarily mean we are friends. It has been difficult.
When I entered the space that Saturday night and I saw familiar faces and my body beamed into smiles and hugs, heard good music and my body started to move, found people my body chose to share its movements with—I realized that my fears would always be there, but in choosing to live, at least I could give myself the chance to bank the good memories for when the hard times hit. That was the first epiphany. I allowed myself to be. Scared, unenthused, unsure, exhausted. I held and still hold all these feelings, but I ALLOWED myself to have the win of feeling good in community.
It is this vim that led me to epiphany #2, because had I chosen my ego, epiphany two would have been something else. And since I know your ass is nosy and you probably want to hear what happened, stay in touch to read the second gift/lesson/epiphany… :)
