Written by Idayat Jinadu
A few months back, I needed to get some beads as I was learning how to make bead bags. I knew a woman at the market who sold accessories, and I was her customer. On that day, I needed tiny glass beads and hoped she would have them. She didn’t, and instead, she tried to force a different type on me, saying what I was looking for was what she offered. I kept looking at the picture of the beads I wanted and the ones she held, and I saw that they weren’t the same. I told her so, but she raised her voice and made me feel stupid, insisting that the bead she held was what was in the picture. I told her it wasn’t, and I left her shop to ask somewhere else.
I didn’t think much of the event until later at night when I was reflecting on my day. My first thought was to stop patronising the woman because of the way she acted towards me, which I didn’t like. At the market, after I walked away from her shop, I saw the exact beads I wanted at another stall. During my reflection, I was grateful I got the beads I wanted and didn’t buy what the first woman was trying to force on me. Then it dawned on me that I had walked away from a stranger without caring what she thought of me. I squealed in joy. If I had had money at the time, I would have gotten a cake for myself to celebrate.
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I had a rough childhood, not due to abuse, but from the horrors of ‘home training’, which was misogynistic. I remember when I was eight, my aunt would terrorise me for not knowing how to prepare meals as a lady who was expected to get married to a man. I was cutting pawpaw one night, and the knife cut me. Instead of trying to ease the pain, my aunt scolded me by asking rhetorically where I would follow the moon to. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realised the meaning of the statement. A moon never moves; the moving cloud only gives an illusion. So, a person following the moon was a stagnant person. It deeply hurt. I was a little girl; I didn’t deserve such words.
At the boarding house, I was severely maltreated by a senior who was meant to be a school sister. I was 10 years old when I considered taking my own life due to the pain caused by her treatment.
These experiences became an imprint on my growing mind and body. The preparation to be perfect for a man, combined with the pain from the senior, made me become a person who sought a form of protection from the thought of others liking her. I was made to believe my life wasn’t mine and the satisfaction of other people was important, and the result was that I became an adult who couldn’t say no. At university, my roommate would step on my mattress in a way I didn’t like but I couldn’t tell her to stop because my heart would beat fast at the thought of her disliking me because I told her off, so I endured. The first time I crushed on someone in university, when I was in 100l, was a disaster because I didn’t have self-respect. I had no sense of self. The guy treated me disrespectfully and rudely, yet I believed that my feelings were more important than my self-worth. I didn’t even know what self-respect meant. When a friend told me, at the time, that I didn’t have self-respect, I was confused because I didn’t know what she was talking about. Looking back now, I feel for that version of myself. She was just hurt and living with pain that wasn’t hers to carry.
Finding feminism helped me heal. Digital activism became a source of power for me, as the feminists who were in control of it were bold and audacious, and this spread to me too. The process was slow, but I eventually found myself. I started knowing who Idayat was. I discovered the word resentment, and I realised I was a bitter person because I had so much resentment inside.
I had resentments from the difficulties I endured because I couldn’t say no to people. I had resentments from how low I placed myself because I liked a boy. Feminism became my therapy, and slowly these resentments got smaller. I transformed into an entirely different person. I made a vow to myself to never swallow pain because I hated being resentful. So I became a bold and audacious person who said exactly where she felt discomfort. Then I watched the Friends episode where Phoebe, after Ross had asked for her help with something, said, “I could help you but I don’t want to.” It really made an imprint on me because I saw the power of putting one’s comfort first. The scene greatly helped me on the journey of becoming Idayat.
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I was happy when I realised I’d walked away from the woman who sold beads. I didn’t care about how she saw me. I wasn’t interested in her opinions about me, and most importantly, I saved myself from the resentment of buying what I didn’t want because I wanted her to be pleased with me. That moment is a core memory for me. It made me love myself better because I showed up for myself.
My joys right now are dependent on how I avoid self-betrayal. A few days ago, I went to change the screen guard on my phone, and the technician did not apply it properly; there was a little screen showing by the side that really unsettled me. The older version of me would have suppressed my feelings and tried to manage it because I wouldn’t want the technician to feel displeased with me. But on that day, I showed up for myself and told him to kindly readjust the guard on the screen, as I wasn’t comfortable with the position. He complained, but I chose not to hear him; I paid for the screen, and my satisfaction was important.
I am also gaining joy in giving up things and letting go. I was watching Season 17 of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and Ru said something to Onya Nerve that stuck with me: “Learn to follow the clues in life.” It made me think, reflect, and recalibrate my life choices and priorities. For example, in my work life, I have been a brand strategist for more than a year. I love it, and I do not hesitate to learn more and develop myself. I reached out to the founder of an agency to intern, and she agreed. I built a professional identity around this. I offered to do free brand clarity sessions for friends, and I also gained valuable experience in the process. Then I realised I wasn’t moving forward.
I wasn’t getting jobs. The founders I spoke with didn’t see the need, or they offered me meagre money. The personal brand I tried building on LinkedIn sucked, and I hated the process of ‘showing up every day’ because it was performative. I felt like a stranger in my life. I began to dread the moments I would go to LinkedIn to talk about ‘branding’ to pander to the ‘people who are secretly watching’. It wasn’t long before I had a major breakdown and identity crisis, but one thing that didn’t change was my love for brand strategy.
Then I heard Ru’s words and I decided to follow them by listening attentively to myself. I called the process ‘Path of Least Resistance’. Where in my life do things happen even when I don’t put in effort? What am I always eager to do and do effortlessly without pressure, delay, or extreme procrastination? I answered these questions truthfully and I realised it was writing. Even when I considered it a side thing that wasn’t my main focus, it grew because my talent always shone through. Meanwhile, brand strategy, with all the networking, connections, people, and mentoring I had, couldn’t even get me a job or a gig.
Upon further reflection, I discovered that what I loved was brand strategy as a concept, not as a tool. So I pivoted to being a writer with brand strategy skills, rather than a brand strategist with writing skills. In writing, even when I don’t show up, I get picked. It is really my lane. I feel confident as a writer too, unlike brand strategy, which operates like a rigid ecosystem dominated by brand agencies and brand designers, leaving solo brand strategists like me, for lack of better words, homeless.
I’m joyful that I could let go to follow the clues in my life to discover the path of least resistance.
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On this journey, I feel like a baby learning how to crawl. I feel like a precious art piece that was formerly buried but is now being uncovered by a renowned archaeologist with a PhD, who is also protecting the art piece from the British Museum, which represents external validation. I now strive to do things because I want them and, most importantly, because they contribute to my vision of a better life. I strive to not centre people’s opinions, thoughts, and imagined perceptions in my life anymore; even when I seek advice, it’s just counsel, not validation. I am working hard to completely be the person who possesses these attributes, not just someone who strives to be them.
Life is better these days. I’m happier than I used to be because I now recognise that a lot of my past unhappiness was rooted in seeking permission from others to be myself. I have moved significantly away from this version of myself.
At the same time, I won’t pretend like I’m perfect. There are times when I self-betray by overeating, like the time I bought suya and Smoove even though I was already full. I blur the line between kindness and tolerance by thinking that my feelings and admiration for a person should also make them like me. There are times I struggle with resisting temptation because I think I must have and do everything I think of, which is on a spectrum of perfectionism, I’d argue. I have succumbed to these temptations, but I have also managed to recover from them. I have learnt from them. My sense of self is continuously getting better. I have a better idea of who I am now, and I won’t trade my journey for anything in the world.
About the Author:
Idayat Jinadu is a brand strategist and PhD student working on the culture of waste disposal and its effect on environmental security for her dissertation. She is inspired by impact and wants to create things that matter for people who need them to be free, liberated, and who they truly want to be. She is on the writing track for the 2025 Adventures Creators Programme.
