For starters, if you’re reading this post, please give yourself a loooooooong drawn out huggggg for me.

Yep. Do it.

 

[I mean it. DO it now!)

 

We’ve survived our second year in a row in a global pandemic. With all the mental stress, the health anxiety, the uncertainty, the zoom fatigue, and the sheer arrrrrggggghhhh of it all.

 

In case you think you have not achieved anything this year, just stop.

 

Look at you! You’re breathing… right??

 

You’ve done great. So first of all, hats of to you.

 

(And me)

 

While we’re still in a global pandemic, and while 2021 had its shares of hair-raising moments, it (thankfully) paled in comparison to 2020, with regards earth shattering events.

 

I mean, we were literally shocked at the start of the year with the near coup in the self-proclaimed freedom capital of the world.

 

Thankfully, that did not happen, and for the first time in a LONG time, the world has been spared the collective anxiety we all suffered seeing spurious and numerous tweets from the POTUS handle.

 

As if to deliberately overcompensate for all the drama of the prior four years, the present POTUS’ twitter handle and activity qualifies for a snooze-fest award.

 

(Who knew that ‘boring’ could EVERRRR be refreshing?)

 

In the meantime, we got our ‘vaxes’ against the virus. Contrary to what we thought that it was the magic potion to end this, somehow, the very intelligent virus has kept mutating and slipping through the potency of the vaccines.

 

Some blame has been heaped on anti-vaxxers. Others have blamed the inefficacy of the vaccines for the prolonged existence of the virus, raising further anti-vax sentiments as to whether the vaccines should be taken at all.

 

I share the global frustration at the persistence of the virus, and shudder at the thought of another total lockdown. I also understand hesitation at the vaccines, considering that they were developed in so short a time.

 

However, I have taken my chances and gotten my shots, while ready to get a booster. I mean, na pesin wey dey alive go fit see effects of the vaccines, if any, abi?

 

***

 

In 2021, we lost some good ones along the way..

 

Cicely was a beacon of hope for black women, refusing to be shackled to stereotypes and rising above labels to own her own path as a creative.

 

With DMX’s death, it felt like a part of my childhood (or teenage years) died. That brief period where we were ignited with dreams of being the next rapster, borne from replaying his raspy voice over and over in our rechargeable lamps in boarding high school (till the tapes coiled). Subsequently performing some of the hits at creative nights, while rocking our bandanas and borrowed “timbaland” boots.

And Archbishop Desmond Tutu, he was proof that you do not need to have passed to be a legend. Renowned for his voice in the struggle against apartheid in then South Africa - including being the first foreign dignitary in 34 years to address the then Ontario legislature on the evils of apartheid. I remember reading about his good works in social studies class as a kid; his impact in Africa (and the world) will remain invaluable.

 

In the motherland Nigeria, we also marked the one-year memorial of our heroes lost in the peaceful #EndSars protests, by the murder of innocent citizens by the Nigerian army at the Lekki tollgate.

 

May all the souls lost rest in peace, and loved ones left behind comforted.

 

***

 

2021 deepened the housing crisis that rocked economies across the world with the onset of the pandemic. Canada was not left out, and buying a home – especially as a prospective first-time home-buyer – in 2021 almost became an extreme sport.

 

[Like a real estate-esque squid-game of sorts]

 

In 2021 parents, grandparents and families rode in as ‘white knights’ to aid their millennial and gen z relatives achieve their dream of home ownership. It is the hope, that with the rollout of more government policies and improved global logistic channels, the new year will usher some respite with regards to home ownership.

 

In the meantime, people began taking joyrides to Space this same year. Yep… space tourism became a thing in 2021.

 

Granted, it’s just a handful of civilians who took these casual ‘tours’ to space. At this time, it costs about $55m per person for these trips.

 

(Tell the truth… you want to chill with the big boys in space, ba??)

 

The rest of us will wait till we can get seats through coupons (which really may not be this lifetime)

Finally, the global discussions surrounding diversity, equality and anti-black racism which ignited in 2020 continued well into 2021, with organisations and even governments going the extra-mile to promote equality for everyone.

 

Which is why it came as a rude shock (of sorts) when only African countries were swiftly put on ban lists for travels, by predominantly western countries, due to the emergence of the Omicron variant of the COVID virus in Africa. This was despite the fact that this variant was already shown to be present in and transmitted within other Western countries.

 

Thankfully, the skewed bans have been lifted, and the world appears to be back to holding (virtual) hands and singing kumbaya.

 

….

 

On the personal side of things, 2021 has been a very interesting year.

 

The one thing that has stood out through the past 12 months is the undeniable strength that family is. I am blessed to have a family filled with humans that I also genuinely consider my friends, and friends who have turned family.

 

Family was there to laugh, cry and vent with me, and carried me at the times I could barely walk.

 

And in 2021, I started a new gig. I was excited and petrified at the same time.

 

It still feels like just yesterday I was the newest rookie on the block. Now, I’ve earned some war stripes already. 😁 Who knew the time would ever come where I would work with people for a whole year, and never meet one person face-to-face. 

From the start of the year, I found myself already struggling with juggling my MANY commitments. I took on a volunteer role that I had no prior experience in, which at the time, I felt like sinking into the ground everyday, but I'm all the best for now.

In the face of my struggling for time, it was clear something(s) had to give. 

One of the adjustments I had to make was my blogging frequency. Rather than give in to the urge to just "shut it all down", due to the frustration and burnout I felt at the time, I chose to write one post per month, rather than one post per week.

This was probably one of the best things I did in 2021; sitting myself down and negotiating with myself on how much time to give my many ventures

***

 

In 2021, I dealt with Imposter syndrome, guilt, low self-confidence, and burnout. I suffered through the isolating grief of betrayal, and struggled to not losing faith in humanity.

 

While I also had AMAZING things happen, I felt the bad almost drowning me, and nearly lost sight of all the good things I had happen for me.

 

At my lowest of lows, I found myself talking about these to ’Laide. And she reminded me of all the amazing things I accomplished, which I needed to remind myself, to push me to be better.

 

“You are GOALS sis. Never forget that”, she repeated.

 

So instead of moping over lost dreams, here we are; counting our blessings for 2021.

 

My biggest flex for 2021 has to be (1) being recognized by Canadian Lawyer Magazine as one of 25 Top Influential Lawyers in Canada for 2021, (2) starting a job I love with an organization I admire, and (3) buying my first home in the midst of the CRAZY housing market, all the while (4) working from home fulltime, while caring for a little humanling fulltime (who was a constant feature in most of my work meetings/formal engagements)

 

Yep, it’s me. I am that chic. I did all THAT. In one year.

 

If 2021 has thought me anything, it is that I will withstand the fire of whatever life may throw, not just survive, but thrive and stay on top.

 

Because I AM GOALS.

 

[Note to self: NEVER EVER forget that]

 

***

 

One more thing: No one has it all together. 

Contrary to the happy smiles on social media, and the seemingly numerous accomplishments, everyone struggles in the privacy of their closed doors, with one thing or the other.

 

Everyone has ups, everyone has downs. The important thing is not to let oneself be swallowed by the downs; to never lose hope, to keep pushing, and to stay positive always.

 

So in 2022, I wish you laughter, deep from your insides. The type that makes you cough up a bit embarrassingly, or pee a little. 😊

 

I wish you peace, the type that makes you scratch your forehead slightly and smile for no reason, in the middle of the day.

 

I wish you a soft life, that all your hustle will turn easily to gold.

 

And I wish you love: God’s love, and the love of the ones you hold dear.

 

Here’s to life, love, peace and joy.

 

Have an amazing 2022 ahead… and may the odds always be in our favour.

 

Peace & Love,

 

Meg.

My newest guilty pleasure has to be Black-ish.

 

I mean… it’s not entirely NEW per se. I had begun watching it earlier this year, but dropped off.

 

I recently picked it up again, and boyyyyyy…. I CANNOT wait to be done with my day, curl up on the sofa with a bowl of unshelled roasted peanuts, and let off the steam of the day by just laughing at the the Johnson family’s squabbles on the show.

 

First it is HILARIOUS! More importantly, it is very educational, especially for people seeking to understand nuances in (North-American) black culture.  Recently, I watched an episode where code switching was discussed.

 

The first-time I actually heard the term – Code-Switching - I instinctively knew what it meant, without even having to check Urban Dictionary. This was because although it had evolved into (almost) second nature with time, it was something I had consciously developed.

 

Harvard Business Review defines Code-Switching as “adjusting one’s style of speech, appearance, behavior, and expression in ways that will optimize the comfort of others in exchange for fair treatment, quality service, and employment opportunities”, more often “in spaces where negative stereotypes” … run counter to what are considered “appropriate” behaviors and norms for a specific environment”.

 

Code switching can be considered a sort of invisible “cloak” that people of colour – particularly black people – particularly black immigrants – have often adorned, to ‘blend’ more with their environment [particularly with regards to employment] so as not to seem ‘different’ [my euphemism for strange] to colleagues who are not as diverse or from similar backgrounds.

 

A simple but practical example is speaking to colleagues on the phone in crisp North-American accent along the lines of “Yes please, clearly understood, we should touch base toward EoD, while I circle back on all outstanding. You can take back 45 minutes”.

 

And the very next second, turning to friends in the room in full-blown naija lingo to quip, “Omoh, how far?? You don chop finish? When we go comot? Mehhhnnnn… I’m tired ehhn, I just want to relasss and be taken kiaruf”.

 

*snorts*

 

There are very many reasons for Code-Switching, all personal to the ‘switcher’.

 

Asides the predominant career progression justification, it could also be due to the possible confusion that one’s ‘natural’ expressions which they have been used to from birth due to orientation and background, may be confusing to others not used to or exposed to other similar backgrounds.

 

For example, it was a running joke with my non-Nigerian flatmate during grad school that “you Nigerians play and laugh as if you’re fighting”. In her words, she was scared a couple of us friends were having a heated misunderstanding the first time we had a mini get together in the flat.

 

With time, she came to understand (and look forward even to) these gatherings as just pure unadulterated joy and playful teasing, after a long week of school work.

 

My flatmate as well was black, and an immigrant. Yet, it took her a bit of time to get used to this. Imagine that it was the same expressions we used during our get-togethers that was used at work, where the population is much more likely to be less diverse.

 

[Sally from HR would be sitting at your office door, waiting to welcome you every day]

It is little surprise thus that folks (like us?) code switch. Because the reaction to ‘regular speak’ in a more formal setting or among a less diverse crowd is usually one of two extremes.

 

On the one hand, one may be considered ‘uncultured’ (whatever that means), possibly aggressive even, and an hour of planned deliberations could be frustrated by constant interjections of “I’m sorry, but I cannot understand you”. Buzz-phrases like “perhaps, she is not a entirely a good fit” and “oh my, she has quite an interesting accent” are quite ‘innocently’ passed around.

 

Guess who will not be invited to after-work drinks, so as not to confuse everybody??

(We know how this story ends. We’ve seen it too many times)

 

The other extreme is one of being considered quite “exotic”… like an antique piece of 14^th century art just rediscovered, or a very rare bird. Very patronizing (albeit good-intentioned) repetitions of “I love how you speak!” are quite a common occurrence.

 

(Guess who is invited to EVERY after-work drinks event, just to “hear how they speak”?)

 

Regardless of the particular reason, at the end of the day, Code-Switchers just want to blend, without having to deal with the headache of explaining their hair/talk/accent/slangs/bounce/swag/breathing.

 

Which brings us to the question: should you WANT to blend? IS there something wrong with being ‘different’?

 

Quite frankly, I could go into the theoretical gymnastics of loving yourself the way you are and all a dat, which we know. The truth however is that na person wey wear shoe know as e dey pinch am.

 

Every person is navigating their own waters at their own pace, and in the way they deem best for their own circumstance. In my own case, I suffered such EXTREME isolation during grad school that when I was ready to enter the legal market, my sense of self-confidence was at an all time low.

 

I recall attending a (alleged) work interview at a ‘reputable’ organization where all the interviewer asked me about was “Boko-Haram”, because I was obviously Nigerian, and as na me and BH dey siddon drink tea together.

 

*rolls eyes

 

Thus, I developed Code-Switching as a survival skill, to get my foot into the door and get a seat at the table. I would often joke that I had my straight wigs for work interviews. Except that it was no joke.

 

Since my BH interview experience, I did the best possible to blend in, and look and talk as different as was least possible from the average Canadian.

 

Fast forward to a couple of years later, I am no longer in survival mode. However, I had practiced Code-Switching so long, that I honestly no longer realise I code-switch.

 

I am however much more comfortable consciously switching to my more natural expressions, wearing my braids, and often drop some local lingo and slangs during meetings with colleagues.

“Such as “We are not jollof rice. We cannot please everybody”, or “We Move”.

 

It helps that in the past two years or so, black people have been able to be more vocal about stereotypes at work, and have had a sort of coming out, such that Code-Switching is not at an all-time high as it probably was in the past.

And in my case particularly, it goes a long way to help that I have colleagues who are really exposed to people of diverse backgrounds, and diversity is not an item for window-dressing in my present organization.

 

In the past year, it has been pretty easy for me to bring most of me (if not all of me) to work.

I cannot say the same for every black person, or every person of colour. I do not know the particular circumstance each person is navigating. Which is why I do not believe anyone should be judged if they Code-Switch.

 

For to one person, it may be just a ‘flex’. But to another, it is a fundamental skill for (corporate) survival and progression in the western world.

 

To each their own. And may the odds always be in our favour.

 

Paz,

 

Meg.

Photo Credit: Collage made from photos by Christina Wocintechchat, Clarke Sanders and Leighann Blackwood on www.unsplash.com

 

1. I was 25 and had practiced for close to three years, when I realized one day, that I was slowly developing an unhealthy personal work culture. I worked 6am, to (sometimes) 3am. Worked on Christmas Days, and Easter Sundays. Had no life and no extra-curricular activities. So at 25, I took up Salsa classes, learnt how to dance Salsa (plus Bachata and Meringue), and began having some semblance of a social life.

 

2. I got my Masters in Law at 29, despite graduating from law undergrad at 22, and wanting my Master’s degree as soon as possible. I was only able to secure a full scholarship, after 6 years of searching and almost giving up severally. To put things in perspective, I was the 2^nd or 3^rd youngest in my undergrad LLB class. For my Masters, I was the Agbalagba of the class.

 

3. Just after my 30^th Birthday, my doctor looked at the x-ray of my knees and said “you can’t continue with high impact exercises anymore. You can’t keep running, skipping, or playing basketball, and even your dancing has to be low impact. It’s best if you did low-impact but high cardio exercises like swimming to keep you in shape”. So at 30, I learnt how to swim for the first time. Not as a flex, but as me giving the middle finger to that basketball injury.

 

4. I could not drive, until I was 31. My parents were the only ones I knew I could use their car freely, and seeing that I struck out on my own right from law school, I decided I would not bother touching a car, until I could afford to get my own car. I got my very first car at 31, and that was what I used to learn how to drive. Despite having my learner’s permit, I was scared to drive on my own, and parked the car for the longest time. I only hit the road on my own for the first time, because I was desperately late for church one Sunday, and had waited for taxis for more than 45 minutes.

 

(I was almost 32 by then)

 

5. At 33, with a lot of trembling and while doing it afraid, I packed up all my stuff, left a job I loved, left the community I had come to love and depend on, and moved back into the unknown, to the place I now call home. I started life again at 33, and it took me a full year to (legally) be able to refer to myself as a “lawyer” with my full chest, and maybe another year or two to squarely find my niche again.

 

6. I am now a bit shy of 40, and still at beginner-level French lessons. I have my classes twice a week, for a total of 3 hours, with practice tests and all, in addition to ALL my personal and professional commitments.

 

(7. maybe?) I do not know how to ride a bicycle, and I am TERRIFIED of it, especially with my knees’ injury. But my immediate older sibling is wooing me to come onboard, and has offered to be my self-appointed coach when next I come visiting in the summer….

 

…

 

The point being that it is never too late to start or learn anything. It doesn’t matter that others have been doing it from the womb; everyone has their own path. As we say in naija-pidgin, na when pesin wake, na im be im daybreak.

 

Have a (very belated) awesome October ahead.

 

P.s: It’s been a weird couple of weeks, which is why I’ve been a bit silent on the blog. I have had the most AMAZING things happen to me. But I’ve also had to deal with heavy personal struggles. For someone who is well-versed in being the ever-available shoulder for others to cry on, I internalize, and literally deal with personal challenges in silence. Not metaphorical silence: literal silence. As in, sit in the ‘quiet’ of my home, and just chill out in silence, with soundtracks from Grey’s Anatomy humming somewhere in the background, my bottle of apple-cider-vinegar infused fizzy water cradled in my hand, while my brain runs pillar to post, until some sort of resolution is achieved (That is exactly how MeetMyBusyMind was born by the way)

 

I think it’s safe to say I’m back now. As we say on these streets… We Move.

 

*A first version of this post was originally published on my facebook page, on 25th October, 2021.

My favourite super-hero of all time has to be Joseph’s son:

 

Mr. Jesus.

 

(Stay with me, this is not that early morning whatsapp broadcast)

 

As the good book narrates, he had gathered five thousand people, and fed them words to help them live better.

 

How to pray. What to say and not say. How to behave.  Little bits of real life nuggets and skills, to aid their faith and be better humans on earth.

 

That was mentorship.

 

But having mentored them for HOURS, it turns out that the people were famished.

 

That should have been a teaching moment. Mr. Jesus could have moved on to the next series of teachings: How to be prepared and not get hungry after a long mentorship session.

 

Instead, he said “Nahh… what do we have to feed this people?” And then, he fed them actual physical food.

 

That was Sponsorship.

 

(Or some semblance of it)

 

You see, though similar, Mentorship and Sponsorship differ. Mentorship usually involves one individual (mentor) providing advice, acting as a role model and helping to guide another (mentee) along their path through particular circumstances. Sponsorship may also entail all of these, but goes a little further in that the mentor wields their influence or authority in firmly planting the mentee in the path of opportunities, or helping opportunities find them.

 

Quite simply put, mentorship is teaching one to fish, while sponsorship requires not only teaching to fish, but possibly assisting in buying or lending the fishing equipment, and in some instances, even giving fish.

 

One of my warmest instances for me from this crossover from mentorship to sponsorship happened between 2013 and 2014 when I returned from Canada to the motherland.

 

Armed with my LLM and my recently acquired oyibo accent, a huge shock awaited me in finding out that I was not the hottest thing to have happened to the Nigerian job market. If anything, it seemed the legal market had left me behind.

 

By a stroke of pure fate and misdirection, I bumped into a senior manager in an organization I had long desired to be in, but had no opportunity to get into. Unfortunately, there was no permanent position available at time.

 

She kindly became a mentor to me over the following months, and after a year, she reached out that a position had become available in her organization, and invited me to join, which I happily did.

 

This act of sponsorship single-handedly changed the trajectory of my career, for the better. She could have very easily been comfortable, just continuing to ‘encourage’ me and mentor me from afar, which in itself is a good thing. But her taking the chance, and uplifting me was a far better thing.

 

I mean… it is quite easy to stay in the motivational speaker lane, expend energy on “aspire to perspire” semantics and urging others to “pull up themselves by the bootstraps” like Mark Zuckerberg and Bill Gates.

 

(Errr… knock-knock trustfund??)

 

However, to really affect lives and practically help in uplifting others, there are times when you must do the uncomfortable, get out your comfort zone, and actively give them a lifeline.

 

It could be short-term, like giving them some fund to get by, while they find their feet and sort themselves through certain circumstances. Or (and?) long-term, like leveraging your network, wielding your influence and actively referring them for an opportunity which though well qualified, they may not have the social currency to enable them be meritoriously considered for it.

 

Now, this is in no way encourage laziness or cronyism. Rather, this is saying that for the ones you have chosen to mentor, in whom you see that passion and light and that potential, go a step further (if it is within your power) to enable their light shine brighter.

 

Be the conduit through which their potential is harnessed and fanned into a beautiful flame, if you may.

 

Will some people disappoint you? Probably yes, because it is basic human nature.

 

Take the chance anyway, when you can, having done your necessary due diligence. Nothing says you have to hold their hands through the rest of their life’s journey. Just nudge them unto the path of opportunities that are within your reach, and zukwanike. 😊

 

This is especially important, if you fall within a certain privileged class which gives you easy(ier) access to some opportunities, which some of your mentees, though technically qualified, are not equally privileged, and thus, may not have access to said opportunities.

 

Wield your privilege and influence and be a sponsor to them, to see them fly with the wings your mentorship has given them.

 

After all, what is the essence of having influence, if you cannot tangibly leverage that influence in uplifting the ones around you?

 

Mentorship is awesome. Encouraging, advising and guiding others along the right path. But to truly affect the lives of others, you must make the conscious choice sponsor them, as best as you can, and to the extent to which the opportunity presents itself.

 

Because practically speaking, there is almost no point in teaching a person to fish for food they need at moment (not in some distant future, which may never happen), if there is no river or lake anywhere near them, and they cannot afford fishing equipment.

 

You may have to drive them to the river. You may have to purchase the fishing hooks or nets for them. You may even have to let them climb on YOUR boat to fish from. And if you hear their stomach growling in hunger while still fishing, you may have to feed them from the fish you have already, until they catch theirs.

 

That is what it takes to be a Sponsor.

 

Paz,

 

Meg.

This had to be the theme of my late teens throughout my twenties, up till the mid-thirties.

 

"The Strong Black Woman".

 

Known for her resilience. Her humility. Her ability to power through the foggiest blizzard, yet, come out on top.

 

Most neglected, yet showing up and showing out at every turn. Even when under-served.

 

This has been the theme for many Black women, regardless of location or status.

 

The myth that the Black woman is "Strong" has been peddled from time immemorial. Probably originated since the days of slavery, when black women would tend to their own babies, yet tend to the babies of their mistresses as a wet nurse, carrying out back-breaking housework on their shoulders, and keeping the household together.

She never cracks. Does not cave. Throw what you will at her, she'll build a thriving lemon plantation and ask for more lemons.

 

Like a mercenary, she is always afoot and ready to keep going, irrespective of what may be going on around her, or whether is is remunerated appropriately. Prioritising the general good over personal well-being.

 

Whether as a corporate professional, soldiering through miscarriages and/or childbirth, and still putting in the hours to climb the ladder, without the comfort of a trust fund.

 

Or as an athlete, being the first on the track, the last to leave, and pulling all-nighters in the field.

 

Carrying on the burden of the whole team on one's head and back, and never caving in to such whimsical 'nonsense' of 'mental health'.

 

(Who will feed the children while she's gone??)

 

A theme re-inforced even in the media.

 

‘Normalised’ by Tyler Perry-esque narratives (no shade to Tyler Perry), urging Black women on as the infallible matriarchs they are. Whose personal lives may be in shambles, but have to keep showing up for everyone else.

 

Constantly belting R-E-S-P-E-C-T, not getting the deserving respect, yet, pushing through and soldiering on.

 

Even donning the cloak of "I'm every woman, it's all in meeeeeee", because what can't the "Strong Black Woman" be or do???

 

Welll... this generation of Black women is pumping the brakes on all of that higi-haga, holding up their hands in the air, and saying, na ah, I am NOT every woman. It is NOT all in me. There are MANY women for allllll a'dem roles, pick your choice (and pay them well).

 

(And we're here for it)

 

*Claps in excited applause*

 

 

We have held our global WhatsApp meeting (i.e. the Global Association of Strong Black Women), and passed the resolution that the Strong, Black Woman deserves a LOOOONG overdue vacation in the Maldives, with no particular date of return.

 

In the meantime, we usher in and embrace her replacementS (note the plural):

 

- the SOFT black Woman

- the chill Black Woman

- the laid-back Black Woman

- the bungee- jumpin-forever-bachelorette Black Woman

- the well-paid-well-taken-care of Black Woman

- the golfing-after-work-like-her-colleagues Black Woman

- the tea-sipping-daytime-tv-watching Black Woman

- the take-a-day-off-from-work-because-I-have-a-bad-hair-day Black Woman

- the lets-it-all-out-and-ruins-her-mascara Black woman

and most  of all;

- the puts-her-mental-and-physical-wellbeing-first Black Woman

 

These days, Black Women are practicing DELIBERATE SOFTNESS. Black women are leading conversations and saying listen, I deserve to be treated like my female and male peers.

 

To be equally looked upon with compassion when I say I am struggling, and be given a break, without unkind and false inference of laziness. 

 

To be accorded deserved privileges, without having to jump through extra hoops to prove I deserve a seat at the table. 

 Most important of all, Black Women are saying if you don't understand why we're just done with all of THIS mess, then...

 

Bye, Felicia. ✌

 

Paz,

 

Meg.

Photo-Credits: 

Naomi Osaka: www.cnn.com

Simone Biles: www.people.com

Quote by Brianna Laren: www.facebook.com

Nikole Hannah-Jones: www.nbcnews.com