Subverting the patriarchal paradigm
Being the only daughter of the family is overrated.
I have four brothers. Three according to the regular definition, but four in my opinion. During discussions about family structure among new acquaintances, there is usually one particular response upon discovery of my only-daughter status. There is an expectation of a unicorn princess surrounded by knights who do her every bidding and forbid the lifting of her only-daughterly fingers.
However, this is far from the case. Find below, a fairly accurate description of my day today.
Along with my aunt and two younger brothers, I attended the first service in church which ended at 8:45am. I got home at about 9am, ate some breakfast and went ahead to type for my dad, the manuscript he drafted about submission in the context of marriage; which he was to distribute during his lecture in church. We would go on to find out that it had been cancelled due to low turnout. I printed a copy which he was to check for errors and caught up on last night’s sleep. My brothers (25, 16 and 11) faffed about. The fourth is abroad. To my benefit, I woke up to find my uncle, bless his soul, in the kitchen doing preliminary preparations of the fresh fish, chicken and Guinea fowl I would later on prepare. I did one or two things in the kitchen. My parents got back from church and we had a late devotion. Following this, I turned on the generator, effected the corrections and additions to the document and printed the requested number of copies, after which my dad quipped that I would explain to him, my understanding of the text, should I need it in the event that I change my mind about marriage. I resumed in the kitchen and ate a sugarcane. My elderly aunt joined us not long after. We set about cooking the vegetable soup, fish soup et al and my uncle left us to it. My parents left for their church lecture and returned unexpectedly early. The cooking had to be sped up. In the background were the raised voices of the oldest brother and my dad over one of today’s matches. I made the first batch of amala, all my skinny arms can handle at a time. I served my dad and aunt, she ate and went to bed. She’s an angel. I took a break sometime in between to eat some eba with vegetable soup during which my mom came in with my dad’s used plates, complaining that no one had thought to pack them. She made her gbegiri and announced that my aunt and uncle were on their way and would be spending the night. Inwardly, I groaned. I detest visitors or rather, visiting. The charade required is unpleasant and unnecessary. It doesn’t help that the Yoruba are too egotistical, but that’s a story for another day. I gathered the remaining 25 of the 50kg I weighed when I woke up today, made the second batch of amala and dished it. That meal is so tiring and I don’t even eat the stuff. I cleaned the gas cooker, swept the floor and glanced at my sweaty reflection in the black wall tiles. It was time for the final and most dreaded part of the lot - doing the dishes. I conquered the beast, turned off the lights and made a beeline for my room. I had to write this before I dumped it on the abandoned pile of sheared wings in the back of my mind. I look forward to finishing this and taking a shower. Nothing seems better than cold pellets of reality to bring me back from lucid dreams. No wonder the help quit.
What did my brothers do all day? Eat and chill.
My parents occasionally fuss about the inactivity of the males in the house but do close to nothing to change the situation. I am an architect. I also went to school, got good grades, wake up at 4am to go to work. I have dreams and goals and aspirations. I have no desire to be swamped with chores. Why do I have to do more because of some classification I was given no choice about? The girls get all the 'home training’ while the boys grow up entitled, believing that all they have to do is make money and choose a wife. I am very eager to move out later in the year for graduate school. My parents are relatively liberal, I have choices and opportunities and means. However, there are those who do not and that sucks. I am not a feminist; the word is widely misused and controversial these days. Hell all the labels are, too many of them anyway.
Repulsive to my ears, are the questions “are you not a woman?” “what if your husband wants this?” “won’t you feed your children?” and I hear these too often at home; when I get burned by hot oil while frying food and when I refuse to cook, among others. I often say to my mom that I have no desire to get married and I might as well marry a wife, if that is the essence of one. I read an article about the decline of men of character and I agree with Benjamin Sledge. It is saddening. Infidelity and irresponsibility are the order of the gender.
A revolution is long overdue. A woman’s place should be where she wants it to be. Unfortunately, there is an incesstant need to subdue and restrict us; socially, financially, sexually and in every conceivable way. It is incomprehensible. think that everyone has the right to want something and try to find it. Unless your circumstances absolutely prevent you, in which case all you can do is dream. The system was never fair to begin with. My heart goes out to you.
This is dedicated to Mudia David aka Moody, thanks for introducing me to Medium and other great stuff; that Uber article is somewhere on the abandoned pile of sheared wings in the back of my mind. Franklin, thanks for understanding and being there. You’re still an oversized pant. John Green, for inspiration for the title. I may never find Alaska.
