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Written by Idayat Jinadu My earliest memories of friendships are of me and the six other kids I grew up with in my neighbourhood. If these memories were lined like books on a shelf or queued like a crowd at the ATM, the first one would be of my friends and I running through the unpaved road of our street. Some of the afternoons after coming back from primary school, we would fling our sandals and socks in unknown crevices …
Written by Idayat Jinadu Adejare whispered to Oribamise as she lay on his mattress beside him, “I don’t know what I would do without you.” She wasn’t looking at him; her gaze was fixed on the …
Written by Idayat Jinadu My feminism began during my first degree in Peace and Conflict Studies. I was 16 and fresh out of secondary school. I had my first phone, a Blackberry Q10, which I only …
Written by Miracle Okah It was the year 1996. General Sani Abacha, the military head of state, ruled with a heavy military grip in Nigeria. In one small corner of that tense world, my mother had …
Written by Amarachi Nwokocha From time immemorial, there has been a pervasive myth about African women that has penetrated deeply into the society – the myth of the “good girl”. A typical African girl child is …
Yes, We’re Feminists. No, We Don’t Want To Be Men. If you’re a feminist, chances are pretty high that you’ve heard the misconception that you’re craving to be a man. I’m sure the people who say …
Written by Lola Oye Once you get pregnant, the possibility really opens up to you. You know for certain this can happen again; you lose the almost cavalier edge/attitude of the person you were before your …
Written by Elizabeth Adunbi My mother and grandmother left an indelible pain in my heart. I will never forgive them for what they did to me. I have vowed to laugh at them even on their …
We are flowers sprouting in a desert of homophobia. Our petals are bright, and our leaves have uncoiled, despite the cold. It is Nairobi in June. Everywhere you walk, we exist; some of us visible, others …
Written by Highest Kite On the first Sunday of the year, a man touched you wrong. Eight months later, you still see him washing cars, clearing grass, gravel and dirt, but more often, tending to the …
