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only in death are we a master. feminist. nostalgic. living one day at a time. achiever.
·Your Voice Matters· Photo by Nora Awolowo

‘History is storytelling.’

Yaa Gyasi

There was first confusion, indecision and then a thousand and one questions running through my mind as I got to the venue of the protest. Had I done the right thing? Did I belong there? I did not know anyone here, so where will I run to if it turns into a riot? Also, do I trust everyone here to remain on track and not cause a distraction? And most importantly, was I angry enough to participate in this protest? Was I rightly motivated to be a part of something this massive? …

Not alone. Surrounded by the people I love the most.

Photo: Pinterest

The past few weeks have been filled with so much anger and despair over the death of the Hollywood actor who played the Marvel superhero character, Black Panther, the one and only Chadwick Boseman.

Coincidentally, the night before I heard of his death, I felt uneasy and developed this need to write on this piece that had been in my head for weeks. All that time, I only had a title ‘How do you want to die’ in my head, and before it starts to seem like a cry for help, no, I’m not suicidal. …

Art by Collins Obijiaku

‘I think women want freedom. They want to be empowered. They want hope. They want love; they want all the things that I want, and I’m not afraid to say those things and act on them.’ — Rihanna

I spend what I consider an unreasonable amount of time on social media, often in between engaging in other work-related things and I can confidently say that nothing causes an uproar in the Nigerian community more than a woman saying she doesn’t want to marry, or have kids. Oh, the outrage! Like how dare a woman choose what to do with her life? The audacity!

There’s a Nigerian style to everything. For some reason, often without trying we tend to adopt a uniqueness to reacting to situations in an overly dramatic way. The Nigerian way of cooking for instance where…

Faceless. Credit: Pinterest.

I live in Nigeria. Precisely in Lagos state. I moved in February. It was not in the spur of the moment but it was rather pre-meditated. I had planned and plotted this for the longest time because I felt like I was loosing out on something I couldn’t quite place my hands on. Moreso, I needed a change of environment. I had grown up and lived around the same things and people for the longest time and I needed that to change.

I was barely three weeks in when I started hearing about the coronavirus in the news and instinctively…

The past few months have recorded my struggle to feel something strong enough to spur me to express my feelings in a powerful way that when I look back at it, it reminds me of what I was feeling at that moment.

I haven’t found it.

It just occurred to me that I’ve always created from a place of hurt and the struggle to be heard. I wanted my voice to be relevant to something. I didn’t care about the fame or the numbers it did, what I needed was a channel to divert what I was fighting to keep still within me. A…

I don’t vividly remember the first time I listened to Burna Boy’s music. It must have been at a party of some sort, where it was played over the speaker, or maybe on the streets. It’s all too unclear. However, what I do remember is how it made me feel. And to me feelings are more important that anything else, because that is what creates a connection between people and things, people and people, things to other things in this world of ours.

It must’ve been one of those days in the second week in August 2019 where I bent…

How do you want to be loved?

In doses. In parts. Little portions that won’t overwhelm me.


I want it to be unending. Like a fresh page, I want it anew like the morning air, untainted and innocent like a baby’s smile. Longing, but very aware in its self.


The only thing we have to submit is our will to express our passion and desire to love. Be present.


Not in countable acts of love or timeline but in accountablity at any times. Timelessly. No good or bad days have a room to interrupt the process that…

The Ugonna

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