The Female of the Species: A Hearty Rant

Based purely on the stereotype, I become less Nigerian with every passing moment. It usually takes an encounter with other Nigerians to bring this to light, and I tend to leave these incidents with mixed feelings. In the first place, it is safe to assume that I'm either angry or incredulous, driven to near-madness by the backward mentality that was exhibited during an unexpected spat with a fellow Nigerian. Then I usually find that I'm mildly saddened by what strikes me as a further drifting away from my cultural roots, until I realize that I never truly understood these roots to begin with, which is equally, if not more, depressing. And finally, recalling the argument that led me down this path of introspection, I defiantly conjure up pride and heave a sigh of relief that I am not, indeed, like the parochial buffoons who easily meet the world's expectations of "what an African is". In my current environment, they make me look more "exotic", and nothing gets me going like the illusion that I am unique.

I hear it all the time - as a matter of fact, someone was telling me just yesterday how far off center I am from the average Nigerian woman. "You're the anomaly here," he said. Yes, yes I am, I remember thinking, smugly. So conceitedly cocky that I forgot to look at his eyes, to catch his true meaning. His words could very well have been an indictment, not a compliment, condemning me for exuding what my friend Chidi calls manly qualities, condemning me as I do myself from time to time. He might have been snide, silently chiding me for being the watered-down version of a truly beautiful African woman, the one Fela sang about in his misogynist anthem Lady, one who displays the attributes of strength and success within our traditional setups (which I refer to as oppressive constraints), silently playing the cards she has been dealt by God and men, seeking whatever solace she needs in religion and the advice of women who passed through the fire before her (those mere shadows of the vibrant beings they could have been did they not choose to walk the predetermined path). I do have some respect for those women (though, admittedly, not much). But I am too much of a caged animal within my own self to willingly accept a role that would only further restrict my freedoms: freedoms intellectual, spiritual, relational, sexual, unspoken. We say we've progressed - and in some ways, we have - but not really. And it's not always due to male domination. Ofttimes, we women hold ourselves back much more violently and effectively than any staunch patriarch ever could.

I was reminded of this last week, during a fight with she of the green curry. The back story is simple but rather long, so I'll present the highlights:

1. kulu & co. throw party for friend; kulu meets and re-meets several friends of friend
2. kulu receives email three days later from party attendee
3. Unsure who person is, kulu texts friend to verify last name of said person
4. Friend verifies name, wants to know why kulu is asking, kulu says, "got email, wasn't sure who from"
5. Friend wants to know what was in email
6. kulu wants to know on what grounds
7. Friend says "on the grounds that you know him through me"
8. kulu is about to lose her shit (shall I send you transcripts of every conversation I've ever had with people you know, too??) but holds it together. Responds simply, hopefully, nay, prayerfully: Jokes.
9. Friend texts back: I'm not joking.
10. kulu, still holding back but barely: Neither am I.
11. Friend: Do as you please...FYI he's married.
12. kulu goes ape-shit, texts become phone calls become emails, sparks fly, sparks turn to lightning, fire and brimstone
13. Friendship over

Now, you the reader don't know a lot about what happened during this argument. You don't, for example, don't know what happened at point 12 to accelerate the end of our friendship. You don't know why, at point 8, my indignation reared its ugly head. You also don't know what happened at point 2.

Neither did she.

So what could possibly have been her rationale for saying the things she said at point 11? In her words: "Since [kulu] refused to answer, I am left to think what I want."

Oh, really??

In subsequent back-and-forths, she changed her story. Hers were the caring actions of a good friend, her words mere warning against the sort man who would send me an email despite his married state. She'll have to forgive me for not catching that; Aristotle himself wouldn't have arrived at that conclusion based on what came before. For one thing, his woman was at the shower and she let it be well known that she was thoroughly dissatisfied with the lack of ring on her finger. My sister and I have shared many hearty chuckles over her display. So no, he's not married, moron. And secondly, most importantly, she didn't even know what he said!!! From whence the concern for my moral wellbeing? More accurately, why condemn me as a man-snatching harlot when you are 100% ignorant of what transpired in the communication then, once your prejudices have been revealed, lie about your initial intent? You know that your narrowly-carved mentality does not allow for man plus woman talking to equal anything other than sexual interest; but rather than deal with your misinformed prejudgments, your insecurities, your myopia, you want to bring a sister down. Why? Indeed, why go there at all?

I have considered the possibility that I over-reacted. Truth be told, by point 12, I was so angry I transformed into the very sort of Nigerian I despise: loud, argumentative, refusing to listen to anything that wasn't apologetic. It was regrettable, but not unjustifiable. Overly emotional, but - I've decided - not unwarranted. She was equally riled - justified in believing what she wants since I wasn't being forthcoming with the information she demanded; mortally wounded because I would believe she had anything but the best intentions behind everything she said, no matter how she said it; pissed off that I would so liberally sprinkle my speech with expletives and be so much of a stubborn blockhead, even as she is trying to explain herself, which she shouldn't have to do because a true friend would know she harbored no malintent and clearly she was mistaken about our level of friendship.

The argument had developed so many layers by this point that I was growing confused and consequently lost interest. In typical fashion, I extricated myself from the now-complex situation because I don't have the patience to unravel each bit, one by one. So more power to her: she won, and I was happy to let her. But I was exasperated as fuck because she missed, or chose to ignore, my point: yes, you may ask as many questions as you please, but don't think I'm obligated to respond; you may be well on your way to becoming a mama, but I am not your fucking child. Furthermore, that I choose to exercise my right to remain silent on an issue (just on principle, mind you, and not because I had anything to hide) doesn't give you the right to infer...anything! Not a damn thing.

Exasperation does not even begin to describe my state of mind; my heart is racing now, just replaying the scenario over in my head. It was the same with the green curry. Now, as then, I'm baffled by the sub-levels of provincial thinking to which she would cling, as a drowning man to a straw. Is it just me, or would the average rational being not have cut their losses at point 5, 8, or even 10, and moved on? Would a sensible, non-bullying individual not admit to herself she was being too nosy, take a few minutes to pout over being kept in the dark, then find something more important to do? I wonder: doesn't she have a crib to buy, a nursery to design? I know she lives smack in the heart of Bumblefuck, Nowhere, but seriously: isn't there anything else she could do to break up her seamless, endless days besides fuck with me?

I know she's not the only one who sees the unquestionable sense behind her actions, and that scares me a little. Because that means you can take as many people as you like out of the proverbial bush, put them in some of the best educational systems in the world, even give them an opportunity to earn advanced degrees, and they can still come through the machine acting and sounding for all the world like any other ignorant fool. What does that ultimately mean for the people in the world who are struggling, nay fighting, every day to transform the status quo so honorable things like logic, reason, wisdom and common sense can win in the end?

Nigerians are spending huge portions - some, multiplications - of their income to send their children/nephews/siblings overseas so they can get the sort of quality education that they hope will factor into rebuilding Nigeria. How can it be worth it, if these same children come back to Nigeria with nothing to show for all their time, effort and cash but the same antiquated mentality that they left with? What does it matter that you have gained nuanced knowledge of how to run an international banking conglomerate when you encourage your friends to "let God judge" their partners' infidelities until they must suffer the medical repercussions? So what if you're the first female mechanic-entrepreneur in your entire state, when you happily chime in as other women question the karma of a hapless wife who can't seem to conceive?

Venomous Eve. Ruthless and cunning destroyer. When and how will we evolve past this timeless image of woman, when all we seem to want to do is ruthlessly destroy one another, directly and passively? One woman's speculations - readily, speedily passed along the gossip line, lubricated by others' unending curiosity, volumized by the embellishments deemed necessary to keep the fairytale alive - will swiftly demolish another's social standing and not a one will bat an eyelid. That same justification that my friend gave for her judgment is the basis for many an evil deed perpetrated against womankind: "You won't tell me, so it's up to me to fill in the blanks." Open-and-shut case. Guilty as charged. No further questions necessary.

Sic. Ke. Ning.

I suppose I've made my point. I'm no longer incensed on a personal level. I recognize my shortcomings and, as always, I've been honest about them. I hope she will recognize hers too, whether or not she chooses to admit them to me. In the meantime, I'm cutting off the hand that caused me to sin and throwing it away: I can't remember the last time I was driven to that much anger, and I hope it will be a long, long time before I let myself go there again. Staying away from bucolic drama will make it that much easier.