the audacity of nigerian men
I’m going about my day, minding my own business, and then suddenly, ding — there it is, a message from someone I thought had vanished from my life.
I am staring at this message with a scowl. Why is this one texting me, I wonder? It’s not just the message itself that irks me; it’s the audacity behind it. The audacity to think you can waltz in and out of my life as you please. To think you can reappear whenever it suits you.
Don’t! Don’t call me! Why do you want to call me? What do you want to tell me? Most importantly, who do you think you are? To leave me hanging and then suddenly expect my attention. Gone are the days when I longed to occupy your thoughts, even for a fleeting moment. You aren’t on my mind anymore, I’ve fought very hard to throw you into an abyss, remain there.
I want your opinion about this…, what do you think I should do about that?
Wait! You called me in the middle of a very busy day to ask me what I think you should do with your life? Ọkurin yi ma laya o. We have barely said ten words to each other since the year started but you want my opinion over a life changing issue. Me? I know what you are doing, when you say things like, “what should we do?”. You want me to believe I’m still an integral part of your life, that we’re in this together. You act like you are catching me, yet you have no intention to stay still. Mr. Man, I know exactly what you are and to be honest, you can jump in front of a moving train if you like.
Your inconsistencies used to bother me, but not anymore. I am over it. I have been for a very long time now. It was a journey, one that I didn’t know I needed until I began. I finally saw myself. It was painful, I cried, and then I felt stupid. “You are more than this,” I told myself, and as cliché as it sounded, I knew I was.
I’ve had my fair share of experiences with Nigerian men and their audacity. I’ve heard countless stories, but this particular one truly tested my patience for an excruciatingly long time. You’d think I had a love-hate relationship with peace of mind. One minute, I was adamant about not putting up with it anymore, and the next, he would slide into my DMs saying all the right things. But just as quickly as he appeared, he’d vanish again. No text messages, no calls, nothing. And when I tried to reach out, he wouldn’t even bother to reply. Then when I start to move on from all of it, this uncle comes back and acts like all has been well.
I think these men take a daily dose of audacity and wickedness. If he was a Yoruba man, I would have said he was born with it, passed down from his ancestors, but he isn’t. And so when Munira says I need to have the audacity of Nigerian men, I get it.
Nigerian men and their audacity are truly something else. It’s a mix of charm, inconsistency, and a knack for reappearing at the most inconvenient times. You see reappearing, it’s their favorite thing to do. But I hope that you remember that you are more than someone’s second thought.
PS: From now on, embrace that audacity in your own life. Speak your mind, stand your ground, and never settle for less than you deserve. Make bold moves and take risks, know your worth and never let anyone diminish it. Life is too short to be anything but unapologetically confident and audacious. Learn a thing or two from this people.
If you enjoyed reading this, please clap as many times as possible. (By many times, I hope you know I mean 50 times). I would also really like to hear from you so please leave a comment. I like gist, so please let me know in what ways Nigerian men have stressed your life.
