True emancipation of the black mind means questioning every communal understanding we take for granted
A few weeks ago, I sat in the paediatric ward of a private hospital in Lagos waiting on my then 10-week-old son’s vaccinations. In the waiting room, all toys and loud crashing from US cartoons, I took in the sight of a Nigerian woman, her body tinged with the tell-tale redness of poisoned, bleached skin. Two beautiful babies sat, in car seats, at her feet.
I exclaimed, “You had twins!” I recognised her from a few weeks before, each of us in the final throes of pregnancy. “I actually had triplets,” she grinned. On cue, her Nigerian husband emerged from the doctor’s office carrying their third child. Awestruck, my son in my arms, I congratulated her on her strength.
Continue reading…True emancipation of the black mind means questioning every communal understanding we take for grantedA few weeks ago, I sat in the paediatric ward of a private hospital in Lagos waiting on my then 10-week-old son’s vaccinations. In the waiting room, all toys and loud crashing from US cartoons, I took in the sight of a Nigerian woman, her body tinged with the tell-tale redness of poisoned, bleached skin. Two beautiful babies sat, in car seats, at her feet.I exclaimed, “You had twins!” I recognised her from a few weeks before, each of us in the final throes of pregnancy. “I actually had triplets,” she grinned. On cue, her Nigerian husband emerged from the doctor’s office carrying their third child. Awestruck, my son in my arms, I congratulated her on her strength. Continue reading…