Show Up for Yourself

Ngozi Ihenacho
Aug 23, 2017 · 2 min read

For almost my whole existence, I have been searching and craving for a need to feel seen, to be listened to, and for a sense of acknowledgement that I haven’t gotten as a child. Nigerian men are not one to show affection for others, let alone their children, so there are more emphasis with tangible instances like “putting food on the table”.

My dad and I did not see eye to eye on pretty much everything. From his condescending tones from the slightest screw up to his super devoted nature to Catholicism, I did not understand him. I distanced myself away from me when I could, or hide in my room as soon as the garage opened to signal that he was home. Watching fairy tales and reading fiction books, I would retreat back into my imagination.

Imagination is safe. Nobody can touch me. Nobody can hurt me. This is your world.

As I got older, fairy tales turned into anime, and anime turned into Korean dramas, the new romance comedies of our time. During that time, my body changed, the world gradually changed, and the white carriages were traded in for birth control and pregnancy tests. The only bending of knees people do is tying their shoes or oral play.

In the midst of the madness, there is a small part of me, the eight year old me, that hopes to be liked and loved. That beyond the condom wrappers and lingerie of this sexual culture, that there is something that looks like love. A part still feels like beyond the one night stands and situationships that there is something that looks like forever.

Maybe I’ll find it, maybe I won’t. But until then, I want to let my eight year old self brightly smile and let her feel all the love that she definitely deserves for herself.

Just show up.

Stay true,

-N

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