I don’t remember when I stopped dreaming, but I remember that I used to dream. I specifically remember a time (pre-high school) when I would lie on a couch in my family’s basement in Washington, DC in the 1990’s and fantasize about married life.
I would dream of the perfect family, a husband who loved me and was generous with hugs and kisses; happy and obedient children and dinners around the dining room table. I’m not sure how common dreams like these were for children growing up in the (then) murder capital of the world. I don’t even know where those dreams came from considering that my family was nothing like that. They must have come from Full House, the Cosby show or any of the other gratuitous amounts of television shows I would watch at every free moment I possessed.
Who am I?
On this blog, I go by “African Femininity”. This is because I hope to blog regularly from an African perspective regarding issues of femininity. This was a natural choice for me, because I am a first generation American-born Nigerian which means I was raised in a household utilizing selective values from both traditions. Obviously, this left me irreparably conflicted about what exactly femininity is supposed to look like. For this reason, on my blogging adventures here on “Ladies Again” I hope to focus a lot on reconciling these cultural, traditional and societal conflicts within myself.
Why I decided to Become a “Lady Again”.
When my friend “Lilac Blue” introduced me to the idea of this blog after a spirited discussion about the rise of a confusing sort of feminism in today’s society and the loss of the feminine identity, I was immediately sold. After all, I’m a 30 year old, unmarried and chronically single, underemployed “boomerang child” who is waiting for her “career to take off” (i.e dream job, high income, zero debt) before she can begin her “real life” (i.e. married life with white picket fence and 2.5 kids). In short, I feel like a grown a$$ woman whose teenage identity crisis lasted way too long! What better way to “find myself” than to join a blog with that very focus. So, here I am, joining the hoards of millennial 15-minute-fame-seekers in their weapon of choice except, without the promise of recognition due to intentional anonymity.
I believe there are benefits to anonymity on the internet. I think that because of the anonymity of this blog, I will be able to be much more open, raw and uninhibited. For this reason, I believe we will be able to give more of ourselves without as much pretense or pandering. Which (as you will soon see) speaks, to a certain degree, in the direction of my views on femininity.
What does Becoming a “Lady Again” mean to me?
This is a difficult question to answer, honestly. I hope to talk about several different topics on this blog. Sometimes, I intend to do strictly opinion pieces about my views on certain hot topics. However, I also hope to offer a window into some of my personal struggles as well. Such as:
- Weight loss and image issues
- My Personal Mission to Become a World Traveler and/or Travel (at all)
Ultimately, though, I guess becoming a “lady again” means, to me, reclaiming womanhood. Now-a-days, I think that anyone who claims to know definitively what womanhood is must either be delusional or selling something. After all, the LGBTQ community along with the universal merger of the international community (i.e. the blurring of cultural border lines) turns asserting any one definition into a highly controversial and even offensive act.
Gone are the days when we could define a woman by the clothes she wore, the role she played in society or even her biological attributes. So, for this reason, I hesitate to expound on what becoming a “lady again” means to me. The answer is in part that I hope to discover the answer through involvement with this blog. However, there is a strong yet dormant part of me that whispers the answer daily to my soul. That part has a definite vision of what I hope to become by the end of this journey which (at this time) I envision ending with me breast-feeding my 2.5th child as my protective husband gives me a loving peck on the neck. Perhaps Lilac hopes her story concludes differently, but this is mine and whether or not you agree, I hope you can respect the fact that this is a conversation worth having out loud. So that at least some of us can rest peacefully in the security of our version of womanhood.