Mother’s advice.

Today, one of my mothers; I am a child of many parents but that’s a story for another day, she talked to me about being a girl. Here is what she told me; that I am not just a girl but an African girl. She took me from side to side how girls in the past were raised. She specified all that society anticipated from them and how they lived up to those prospects. She took me through a firm antiquity; I found it “beautiful.” She told me of how off beam she regards some of those practices.She gestured pleased about the fact that some of those effects were no longer part of our norms. To this stretch, what she said was rightly beautiful. I begun to vibrate at her same frequency. But did this last? 
“Let’s talk about you,”she proceeded. I repositioned myself to that listening posture again. She argued that despite the new developments and frameworks that concern women empowerment, I am still a girl. That she realized I was on the rise faster than my age which worried her. Mother supposes I am young and therefore I ought to be present in the moment. She advised that it’s ok to smile “well” to my he friends. She advised that as a girl, I should be wearing my make up, I should loosen up, I should relate and have nights out; with the right people of course.  

She said poetry was too serious and academic to be counted a leisure activity. “You are missing a stage,” she cautioned. She didn’t like that I was political too. She asked me to have time off to myself, to rest, to chill, to meet with friends; not a meeting over a debate motion, a moot problem or this upcoming writing competition. She was also unhappy about these associations with agendas of human rights, activism and whatever advocacy it is that I am passionate about. If you had heard speak, you could imagine the associations are around 100.  She said I needed a social life too. I was sad but quiet. She elucidated that life is not to be taken serious all the time. Mother necessitated that I take off time to be a girl, to play…she said this and much more. And oh mother wants a son in law at the right time. 

I didn’t know how to respond to these. But I had to. 

One, I asked her to understand that as a woman, my body is political. Secondly, I agree that wearing makeup is good but yet again it’s so optional. Not wearing make up doesn’t make me less of a girl. Does it? The bit of smiling “well” to the males was so annoying. And whatever “well” means, I don’t know. I certainly don’t want to know. Why should I even be taught to smile just because I am female?  I am a happy girl, I smile so often but I am totally under no obligation to smile “well” to the males. Mother said she was after my happiness, but what’s happiness without the things I love to do? Mother, I am not complaining about the “not enough social life.” Am I even missing a stage? NOT AT ALL! There’s no such a thing growing too fast for my age. “Mother, age is just a number.” I explained. I asked her to understand that the times have even changed. I asked her to know that there is nothing wrong about any girl pursing her career and doing the things they love. And for a son in law, it was too early to ask or even caution. A man was not anywhere on the list of what I was pursuing. 

I told her there was more to being a girl. I want to more than exist. Yes, girls too can more than exist, we can impart, we can influence, we can lead, we can decide and do much more. Mother that’s the girl that I am, that’s the line of my course and aspirations. So, if a daughter can speak loud and clear, why should her voice be tamed? I told mother that I aspire to be great. To be great requires that I learn more or to train harder than most. I ensured mother understood that greatness lies in the amount of my sacrifice, constituency and persistence. “Mother, who am I not to be great?” I asked. I am training my heart to serve, mother let me. I am meant to shine, mother let me. 

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