Anita Writes Joins Medium

#AnitaWrites joins Medium!!!

When Blogger lacks the requisite exposure and reach that you need for your posts, your voice, you have to reach out wider and bigger, anything and everything to get your message heard by someone, anyone. 

That being said, I have published some of my crowd-worthy, rebel-rousing posts on Medium. 

Even though Medium being the politically-correct creativity inhibiting editor that it is (unsurprisingly) has not considered my posts worthy of being included in their distribution network. Instead I am left to do the reverse - promote my Medium articles via my Blog instead of Promote my Blog via Medium. The Internet -  makes content creators do so much work. 

Here are my pieces on Medium. I will also update accordingly so follow me on there.  

1. Because No One Likes You - My Baker Hughes Story - I denounce these Corporate Perpetrators 

2. Let's Talk About Rejection - I contemplate the aftermath of rejection, personal and professional. 

Pandemic - A Reflective Chronograph

when this is over and it will be soon enough, when we come out onto the other side of it victorious and praising the Lord, we shall tell of the stories and my God there have been many, so many, quirky, ridiculous, ludicrous, unconventional coping mechanism stories but stories nonetheless 

of how there was Netflix, copious amounts of mind-numbing movies and campy series absorption with eyes glued afraid to stir, and drowning in the screen with floating emotions, pictures and figures emoting of a life we once had. 

of how a particular certain unassuming cheesy campy movie called #365dni and the resulting fandom got me through the darkest aspects of it. about a certain hunk named Michele Morrone who spoke English oh so carefully and adorably had a chiseled physique and the juiciest lips whose nudity tickled me and, on occasion, made me smile through the numbness. 

how there was prayer and worry, and more prayer and more worry and Christ’s teaching of course, recalling the promises of Christ and how he said repeatedly that he would never leave us nor forsake us and trying my best to believe that, to hold onto those dear words, recall all those promises even when it didn’t feel like I had any hope left in me. 

how there was loud gospel music every evening to try to summarize our day and focus our energies on believing that the next day will be better. be better. it just had to. 

how there was a lot of incense burning, sage cleansing and candle trimming all to drive out any and every form of negative word and energy spoken to me and existent in me, my home, my hair, my eyelashes, my finger nails, over everything and anything around me, and to calm my nerves as I waited. and waited. 

how there was alcohol. oh so much vodka, the popping of the champagne (sparkling wine) bottles and the dilution with soda water. there was so much vodka, how we had to give up the vodka on certain days so we could clear our head, cleanse, refresh and sit with our thoughts. 

how there were these mind-numbingly slow evening walks along the neighborhood listening to the same 20 songs while we walked ever so gently, one foot at a time trying our best to expend 2 hours of our day sans anxiety. 

how there was Keanu, so much John Wick and his suppressed rage, so much viewing of the knife throwing scene, the bullets to the head, how we used that to somehow visualize throwing darts at the problems that weigh us so. 

there was hope, there was love, there were tears sometimes at random, while driving in the car, while making myself dinner, while lathering my skin with oil, while getting dressed, at every spot during my day I would suddenly shed a tear or two at this insurmountable problem. 

how there were mornings when I didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t need to meet another hopeless day, where I would hope that any call would be from a recruiter and I would live that day till its end and not hear a sound, peep from a recruiter or otherwise. 

how there was food, glorious food, atimes exotic like freshly peeled Prawns and Chinese takeaway food or locally prepared sautéed Prawns, gourmet food cooked under duress hating to wash every pot and pan that resulted, there was chicken, lots of chicken, lots of cracking and sucking of the bones to ease my mind and de-stress, decompress and try to make sense of it all. 

there were afternoons that I would find so distressing that the only calm would be a meal of sauteéd prawns and Rosé. As Drake said, our summers we dealing with Prawns and Rosé, or something like that. how i would grill the Prawns and drown it with copious amounts of alcohol and pretend that this lush baller lifestyle was still mine, could still be salvageable. 

how there were mornings where I would wake up uttering the same words in prayer to the Lord hoping that He’d hear me, “What’s going to happen to me? What’s going to happen to me?” there was the beginning, there was the end, there was the day and there was night and there was silence and there were times, many times that I feared that this is maybe actually how it all ends. 

...June 24, 2020

An Anita Writes piece

Notes to a Negro - Available Now

There I was. 

Watching a Teen Romcom on a Friday night. Then, the female lead uttered a line to her love interest. A line that seemed so familiar to me. It felt like it was lifted from one of my unpublished works. An unpublished work that was sitting in my hard drive. As I tried to comprehend how that could be, then it came to me, my long-awaited Eureka! moment. The moment that urged me to get off my ass and do something with my COVID19 pandemic lockdown time. 

I will self-publish my anthology of poems, shorts and pieces.  

So I did. Starting with the Notes to a Negro anthology. 

What is Notes to a Negro? 

"Notes to a Negro," is a compilation of essays, pieces, emails, texts and salacious smut inspired by and written for a certain paramour which I chose to call "Negro," who represents the quintessential hard-to-love-and-understand Black Man. It also speaks to the personal internal struggle that brews in the woman as she struggles to unravel this love and deal with the consequences of loving that obsessively. 

The material is very personal, deep, provocative, saucy and raunchy. To a certain extent I wasn't sure I wanted to be attached to it publicly or have anyone who knows me, know and attach it to me. But the best material I've come to believe is the raw content from your unfiltered life and as writers we experience life whole and cut a lot deeper than the general population so what else can we lay to bear for our readers than the open cuts and how we have healed from them. That's what this material which to me is a little ahead of it's time in terms of subversive female material is. Coincidentally, in between working on it's compilation, the music video for WAP,  the new single from Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion was released with all the controversy that it stirred up on Social Media as to its overt female sexual content and explicit language. Once the conversation ignited, which even though some of it was discriminatory and misogynistic, it still represented a strong step forward for feminism, owning our bodies and our stories and dictating when, how and, if to share it freely. Through all that discourse I realized that the release of my book is timely, and hopefully, would be embraced as such. In time. 

I'm hoping the few readers of the Blog will join me on this journey to have my words compiled into a book and read publicly. This is bigger than a Blog, few hits at a time, making zero dollars from the blog. 

This is more personal and I am MORE invested in this, in my words. 

It is of course as noted above, very MATURE CONTENT. 

I know it may not be the most intellectual of writings and is not critically acclaimed author work, but if y'all could enjoy #365dni then my book should be a breeze. 

I'm super excited and proud of myself through it all. 

I finally got my act together and did something. 

You can find it here:

On Selar: Notes to a Negro

On Kobo Books: Notes to a Negro

Simplicity Redefined

"Simplicity is the Mother of Humility." 

Read this from an Italian actor’s Instagram Feed. 

Well. 

What he actually said was “La semplicità è la madre dell’umiltà”. 

And Google Translate told me that’s what it meant so… unless it means otherwise, I choose to believe #google. 

This actor who is currently experiencing a meteoric rise in his career was reflecting on how overwhelming it felt for him that after years of hustle, working off-beat jobs to stay afloat, living and nurturing the actor’s dream since he was 12, he was finally getting to realize it by working with an older legendary actor he had admired as a boy. It was a total “dream come true” moment for him. So the quote above was next to a picture of him with said iconic actor. 

Sometimes you miss that. You miss that dreams could come true overwhelming feeling every now and again. In between the multiple No's and rejection letters and economic somersaults, you get beatdown. So reading that story and observing this actor's spectacular rise, assured me that, it can happen. It will happen. Regardless. 

I live in that hope.

Stuff of Boring Weekends

Bringing this rare gem (below) of an update back to the timeline. Not cause it's written so perfectly. Nope. It just perfectly sums up my mood and my recent updates. Been posting a lot on Instagram lately to promote the blog, pictures from last year when things were calm and COVID-free, life made sense and I was on the cusp of financial stability. Last year, while I was in the throes of basking in a "good life", every time I would post pictures from a day out people would make snide comments like:

"You dey enjoy!"

"Na so so enjoyment!"

"Chop alone, madam!"

Sometimes I wonder if it's the negative energy that doused their envious remarks that caused my life path to sidetrack. Their envy slapped so hard it knocked me off my incline. Who knows? All I know is that people don't want to see you up. They would rather your misery kept them company. 

Posting pictures of the few times we have cause to laugh and enjoy this life is the stuff of social media. But it shouldn't be all good news. I also share the bad moments, the bad stories, unfortunate circumstances. I think I'm actually one of the few bloggers who lets you into her sad times to differentiate between social media and reality, my reality. So to receive those comments, some expressly, some murmured. It hurt. 

Now when I post pictures of some of the exploits from the previous years, I always remember to caption it as a #Throwback so they don't go getting envious all over again, thinking, "How dare you have fun while the rest of us are in quarantine?" 

Whatever you do in this life, just be aware that there are those who would rather see you down, face down in the gutter, so they can say that they won. But they forget that in between those happy moments were many sad timelines, so many boring weekends, weekends when all you did was sit home and cook and clean and day dream of men you can't have. All they see when you post a picture of you at a bar is, "Madam enjoyment!"

How feebleminded we all are!

Taken from the Blog Post - Sometimes Hot Chicks Have Boring Weekends, December 2016

Had an utterly boring Saturday. B O R I N G. Stayed home all day. 

Didn't drink, just lounged and sweated out my weave with sporadic power. It was utterly boring. No phone calls. No exotic food. Fed on leftovers. BLAH - ALL CAPS. 

I say this so that the few weekends I manage to have fun and send out pictures of me taking in some life, you won't think, "Ah na so so enjoyment for this girl." No be so. Sometimes, due to extreme budgetary constraints, I have to sit home, sweat out my weave with no electricity in 90 degree weather, and live vicariously through those who have the luxury of doing this with a loved one. 

At times, I reach out to a few folks in the outside world just so I don't feel that closed off, at times they do the same. But in the end, it always ends up being a subdued way to spend the weekend. Particularly, a weekend in December. Life is not all sunshine and rainbows. Don't let people make you think it is. 

Don't hate on people when they do take in a slice of life. That may be their one chance.

Of Entanglements et al

Saw this episode of Red Table Talk last night. And like everyone on the Internet, I had thoughts.

Immediate thoughts were: 

1. Not to hold them to any type of pedestal as far as marriage goals #Couplegoals. No one should hold any married person to a pedestal. We are all NOT infallible. Marriage (and money and power) further highlights this. 
2. To me, this version of events seemed like a good PR story. Concocted as a result of the creative minds of some highly paid crisis and image counselors. Open marriage story would have seemed too salacious so they put a different spin on it to save face, save their brand. They decided to make August seem innocent ("Oh he broke things off"), make them seem like bad guys, who had a whoopsie moment in time. If this was all true, why did Will seem like he'd been crying for days? 
3. 3. Most importantly. For me. 

   A tweet said: 

   "I really do admire Will + Jada's transparency. That said, I will be totally, completely okay if I never get married." 

   In response, I said: 

   "Having a "Partner" has always been my goal/dream. With marriage there's too much responsibility, too many standards, too many people to impress. Who can live up to these expectations when all you want to do is be in love?"

    
   If this was Europe and they were in one of those throes of passion partnerships where you are drawn to your partner by love, art and inspiration, having a "whoopsie" moment or even an "entanglement" wouldn't seem so rudimentary that you would need to call a meeting to explain yourself to your adoring fans with flowery language that speaks to your "journey". Those French love affairs must be watching this wondering who are these primitive Americans? 
4. Regardless, I commend Jada. Her coy use of the word "entanglement" to describe what might have been a passionate affair. I consider myself a wordsmith even at work I try to spin words around to disguise the literal meaning, but her...she dug deep, and found one I haven't ever used to describe my love affairs. Thank you kindly, Ma'am. The rest of us are lusting after your husband and you're dipping out on him. 

It only goes to show you...as the saying goes, "Show me someone beautiful and I'll show you someone who's tired of sleeping with them." 

Guess, it's true. 

My BH Story...

Every time I see this picture it reminds me of how I feel. Hopeless. Exhausted. Flummoxed. Exasperated. Like I've suddenly had the wind knocked out of me. Frustrated beyond belief. And generally unable to comprehend the current state of affairs. 

July would make it a year since I quit a job (where I was revered but underpaid) to join another job with a solid multi-national company ("Texas Multi-national") that I thought would elevate my career to extraordinary heights. Only said job just shy of my 90 days confirmation and a planned trip to London to meet and train with my manager (who has never been to Africa by the way) decided to let me go. Why? What type of company would do such a thing after making you quit a job? What type of manager would do that after listening to salacious stories from other male colleagues and not verifying their accuracy? Questions I presented to my manager. His response:

Simply because no one likes you. 

Why does no one like me?

Pray tell. Let us count the ways. Could it be because:

1. I don't spend an hour every morning of my productive work day catching up with my work colleagues and filling them in on the events of my previous evening like I'm some sort of daytime host on a morning talk show. "Good Morning Lagos, Guess what I did last night..."

I also don't discuss where I got the designer purse or dress or shoes I wore to work in such tremendous detail. I consider that my employer pays me to be here to work not to discuss such frivolities. I don't take time out of said work day to take selfies of my colleagues shoes/dresses and how we all seem to have such matching attires even though we didn't plan it. Once again, more frivolities taking away from my employer's time. 

 

2. They may have wanted someone much younger and a lot more naive. The first statement my HR rep said when he met me was, "My, you look rather young." Of course, I do. I apply my anti-aging face cream quite religiously. At first it didn't clue in as I've never had HR in a multi-national comment so expressly on my age or looks!!! Never thought a US company would factor in my age in my job performance. But this Texas Multi-national was not run like no ordinary multinational with international labor standards. It was working in accordance with local standards, actually. 

 

3. I know what it was. It's because I asked that we kindly refrain from speaking Yoruba in the office like we're traders in frigging Ojuelegba or Idumota. This is a Texas Multi-national for crying out loud, certain standards must be adhered to, plus English is the national language of Nigeria. It was so bad even the HR rep spoke Yoruba to his constituents who clearly outnumbered the non-Yoruba speaking staff. I even went as far as putting up a vernacular jar for anyone to put in every time they felt the need to speak Yoruba... ahem...vernacular in the office. Don't get me wrong I have nothing against a local language because I speak one myself. I just have a problem with speaking it in a workplace that has (or was supposed to have) different tribes and even nationalities. Speaking one language and making it the central language alienates members of other tribes, makes them feel as if they are not relevant, as if they're being discussed, as if this is not an inclusive environment. And in the end, it wasn't. It was an exclusive society made up of that ONE tribe, and that tribe dominated and bullied other tribes into submission, so not what a Texas Multi-national should represent in a diverse multicultural country such as...Nigeria. Talk about #DiversityandInclusion when the entire board, senior management and staff is dominated by members of just one tribe. Interesting...

4. Then, consequently I spoke up about the lack of parking. With barely 50 slots for about 500 staff you had to get to work between 5 - 7am in order to squeeze into a spot. Even then, it was not guaranteed. You get in at 7:01am and security would tell you, too bad, so sad, try again tomorrow. The worst part is, some folks would show up at 11am and STILL get a parking spot, how is that possible you might ask? A little something they call...Egunje. In no way was this looming frustration discussed with me at any time during the interview process or the non-existent on-boarding. Can you imagine anything more infuriating than going through rush hour traffic just to have to circle needlessly for a parking spot? What a waste of productive man-hours? This company obviously didn't care. 

5. Then, of course there was the office seating arrangement. With a 3 months head start on my start date I was shocked to learn that Facilities and HR did not make any arrangements to assign me a designated desk. "Oh but we don't have designated desks over here, they're 'hot seats'." This explanation proffered to a professional who's worked in Atlanta for 14 years. Do you know the last time I started a job and did not have an assigned desk on my first day - 2005! Kept thinking if this was Texas would I have to deal with these housekeeping issues from a company of this size? 

I suppose items and 4 and 5 have been swiftly dealt with by the inevitable unprecedented rather exacting consequences of counteracting #COVID19. But still...I had to deal with these challenges and a multi-national could not manage its effects on a new employee. 

6. Most importantly, I aired my thoughts (rather loudly I presume) on how I would have preferred to work for the formidable holding company (ahem...GE...) who had just relinquished their majority interest a mere month into my employment instead of this small acquired company. I made them feel less than so they thought they'd make me feel the same. However, anyone who's picked up a Forbes list or has observed the financial market and is aware of said holding company's value knows that there's simply no comparison to that holding company (that's been featured and studied as the No. 1 company for several years) and this Texas Multi-national. It's like comparing Mozilla to Microsoft. Or Google to AskJeeves...Or Amazon to anyone else. You're a small fish in a big pond...deal with it. 

That was it. All this because I spoke truth to power and called them out on their inefficiencies that rubbed certain people the wrong way. I hear people who speak up are usually marginalized and pushed back, called difficult, confrontational, you name it. In my case, I was called a wrong fit, translated to mean, "No one likes you."

Needless to say its been an arduous time trying to find work since this event. I thought I had a handle on things and I could pick my next job this time: ask the right questions, interview the companies properly, ascertain their work culture and environment and figure out how all of this fits into my career plans, try to determine where, what and whom I could work with - all those luxuries you want in a perfect career. 

Then, COVID19 occurred and everything capsized. Now I'm just the lawyer wondering, should I have sued them? Would it have been worth it? How do people get away with ruining someone's life, someone's carefully planned career like this? How do companies, multi-nationals abuse labor laws that are existent in their country but deficient in mine? Don't they have international standards to adhere to? How, and why do companies abuse their right to terminate without cause, and how do they do this without repercussion, without fear of tarnishing their goodwill or their Corporate Social Responsibility? How does my Government, Local Content regulations, etc., still let such companies thrive? How do companies preach diversity and inclusion and yet turn around to fire you simply because you speak your truth, and that truth hits too close to home?

Most importantly, personally, how do I not look back but keep looking forward and try, so hard, to really concentrate on my recovery? Suddenly, I feel like John Wick when they killed his dog and he stewed in his anger and contemplated for a brief moment what to do to his attackers. Only in this moment, what do I do? What can I do?

Unbearable Staleness of Routine

When I was a little girl, I saw a movie that resonated with me in so many ways. 

It was about this pre-teen girl who ran away  from home with her younger brother and lived in a museum - The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. While their parents looked for them relentlessly they were the least bothered and having the most fun. Everyday they got up to wander between the most exquisite art pieces, shower in the museum fountain and attend all the walking tours. To them, it was an adventure, a break from routine, a slice of life they hadn't yet experienced. 

When asked why she did that, she said, she couldn't explain it but in not so many words, it was said to her. She did it simply thus: Because I didn't want everyday to be the same and keep on being the same. So young and she was already running from the modicum routine of life. Wait till she has to live the white picket fence life working a 9 - 5 with 2.3 children? Isn't that all of us, running from the reality of sameness?

Used to nurse that regret about adult life. I memorized that line and recited it in my head every time I felt pigeonholed into staying too long in a situation, maybe a job, a city, a relationship that was not serving me. I often found myself doing something exciting to liven up the sameness. As I move from one job to another, from an apartment to another, from one country to another, I find that, there is a search there, an unburnished thirst for satisfaction, for a blissful rest in one’s life, and that state is so elusive.  

During Covid19 and it's ripple effects of quarantine and lockdown (partial or otherwise) it's so easy to crawl into some type of sameness and before you know it you're missing the life you once had and undervalued and yearn for a return to the Sunday Brunches, Saturday Night movies at the theaters, the dinner with friends. It all goes full circle, I suppose. 

As an adult, later found out that the movie was called The Hideaways and was based on a book titled From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg. I researched that movie and found the full version available on Youtube and starred the incomparable, Ingrid Bergman. 

It's so weird how certain statements, certain scenes from fiction resonate with you and become part of your psyche even as an adult. I feel like I am constantly in that hunt with running away from sameness, seeking adventure, and till date, I am yet to find it. Aren't we all yet to find it?

Winning the Second Half

I’d like to congratulate myself. No. I didn't get appointed to a board or chair a committee or win any political post or even as much as a speaking engagement. I have simply made it through to the 2nd half of 2020. Been about 8 months since my last full-time appointment ended because I spoke truth to power and was outnumbered gender-wise and ethnicity wise as well - awful combination in a Multinational. Having no formal appointment and being hit with a global pandemic that ushers in a recession and with age no longer on my side, starting to see glimpses of my career dreams waning. But I'm determined to stay strong, because they say, that's how winning is done. 

In between that I've spent a lot of time on LinkedIn appreciating opinions, multiple appointments, and accolades and the fanning of the flames from all asunder. So this time I thought to share mine in my own platform. Mine simply deals with survival. It takes a lot to just exist, mentally and socially in a world where only achievements are lauded. It takes a lot to be an underdog in a loud world. But as I've been told, sometimes, perhaps briefly, the underdog wins. 

I'm pretty sure it always does. 

Here's to winning in the 2nd half!!

sweet honey child

do not falter

don’t you dare fade

for your blessing lies

in the 2nd half of this here decade

Words for the Second Half

sweet honey child

do not falter

don’t you dare fade

for your blessing lies

in the 2nd half of this here decade

Erotica with a side of Cheese

Spent the last 2 weeks following my birthday escaping the deplorable state of my existence by watching and re-watching the movie #365dni, and imbibing in copious amounts of hilarious fandom that it ignited. 

The memes. The critiques. The glamor. The cheese. The overall stupidity of it all. Sometimes it helps to distract yourself with some measure of stupidity that is so trivial that it not only instills some laughter but also inspires it’s own creativity. Found myself laughing out loud in my apartment alone so many times just remembering certain phrases from the movie, the memes they inspired, how ridiculous it all seemed, how we embraced that ridiculousness and wondering if it seemed so when they acted it. 

"I've order it and I am gonna determine when I see it." really?

"This is a telescopic tube..." Really, again? in your hotel room? how come? 

Keep thinking, someone sat somewhere and wrote this warped degenerative psycho hyper-sexualized story and someone somewhere thought it was worth investing money in to make a movie. I mean, I have more sensitive female attuned fan fiction sitting in my hard drive, should I revive them? Granted the inspiration for them is now in his late 50’s and so aged, but still? Am I missing something?

That being said, spent the last week as well, reading some of my fan-fiction stories and picking out some of the best phrases from it. Some of it I read without even knowing the outcome, read them like a fan as if it was the first time. But if they're gonna keep making cheesy eroticas that include "telescopic tubes," I will have to keep on writing in hopes that mine may one day make it to the big screen. 

Excerpt from Love is 30 - My lead character, Shelia turns 30. 

Sometimes I think I am being punished for some of the choices I made in the past, for some of the people I unintentionally hurt, for all the things that my outspoken self uttered without regard to the emotions of the listener. I find that as the years go by it is hard to achieve that stillness that is common with happiness. What is it that makes me truly happy and why have I been so unable to achieve it? As I move from one job to another, from one man to another, I find that, there is a search there, an unburnished taste for satisfaction, for a blissful rest in one’s life, and that state is so elusive, it behoves that my attitude and outlook on life is one of disappointment, bitterness, and just regret. I don’t have any constraints, I am bitter. I had assumed that it would be placed on my lap, or at least my instincts would lead me to it, and so far it has not. I am riddled with wrong choices in almost everything except my belief in the One that makes dreams, salient, unspoken, unspecific ones, come true. And even if I have to live another 30 more, and work another 30 more jobs, and people and places, I know that when that state comes I shall be lifted from my feet transcending to heaven’s bed. I just have to learn to surpass the bitterness on my way there. 

We Deserve a Little Nonsense - My 365 Days Movie review

Like every red-blooded female within the ages of 18 - 100, I spent the last couple of weeks in June watching and re-watching the Netflix movie #365dni (365 Days). 

Firstly, I watched it to satisfy my curiosity. Yes, my curiosity. There were some rumblings and gifs flying around my IG discover page so I thought, why not, we in quarantine anyway. Fell asleep during the first watch and couldn't make it through the entire movie that night. 

Days later, I browsed through it again, carefully re-watching certain scenes to try to fill in some blanks that I had missed during the first viewing but the several memes and gifs online had highlighted quite so elaborately. Internet just does not miss a beat, I can tell you that, every plot hole, catchphrase, d*ck slip had been analyzed and TikToked to bits. While they analyze rather scrupulously and create screenshots, some of us fall asleep and miss some essential aspects of a plot (if you can call it that). I don't care, it's not like I'll be quizzed on this later. 

Then, I watched it a 3rd time in its entirety as much as I could in one sitting without interruption. This was to reconcile all the material - think pieces, op-eds - I had read since my last watch with the actual viewing of the movie. In between the 2nd and 3rd viewing I did a lot of reading up on it. I just needed to know, what was this relative nonsensical movie and why was it taking over our conversation?

I use the term "nonsense" loosely because if you haven't seen the movie, at least know this, the plot is just derogatory, for lack of a better word. Granted we were not expecting Merchant Ivory or one of those classic subtitled European movies that sweeps the Oscars but still. 365 Days is a campy cheeky totally misogynistic take on love and sexual violence, that casts men as Alpha males set to arouse and win over submissive females. It's an European more daring version of Fifty Shades of Grey. If you've ever watched European movies you'll know that they do not shy from nudity and sex and are very open and expressive about it. So the entire boat scene, the spitting and ball shots did not faze me one bit, if anything I was rather underwhelmed. Have you ever seen Blue is the Warmest Color? I have...and that sh*t was intense.  However this was a version of erotica that was a bit subversive in regards to consent. It represented women poorly and was a bit embarrassing as a woman yet delightful to watch - at least several times. Kept wondering at which point did Laura (our heroine) go from "No, how dreadful I've been kidnapped," to naked showers with her kidnapper while ogling his genitals. Makes women seem so easy, so flaky.

With the deserved critique thrown at it, #365dni was still taking over our conversation and had soon become the topic of several blogs, Youtube reaction videos and dedicated fan pages, with some folks screaming for a sequel ASAP while others were politely petitioning Netflix to kindly take down this nonsense from their lineup. I was on the side of the former - and I will explain that later. 

I read up on how this story came to be. Whose warped idea was this? Written by a young Polish lady who was inspired by yep, you guessed it, 50 Shades of Grey. Maybe her twisted formulaic version. Actually a trilogy that was auctioned off to be turned into movies and this was just the first installment. How lucky were we that some more of this nonsense was to come our way soon enough?

Then the most interesting part of the movie. The Actors. 

Well, in particular, the lead actor - Michele Morrone. No offense to the female lead - Anna-Marie Sieklucka who put in her share of work and was just stunning. However, this Italian god...was there a casting call for this role? He took the world by storm with this one performance. So many brooding looks, gratuitous nudity, half-baked acting, broken English in parts, chiseled bone structure and a neck grabbing here and there, and me and all the other women were hooked. Where has this Italian god been? Totally deserving of the role. This movie took him from sheer obscurity to total stardom. He literally has people booking tickets to Italy once Corona is over in hopes they'll meet many like him. 

Browsed his IG page during my evening walk and scrolled down to his very first post about 5 years ago and worked my way up. Noticed that he kept at it. Then he had few followers and likes, most of them were his friends, fellow actors, few fans, but he didn't relent in his posts. He remained consistent. He would post a thirst trap here and there, every couple of days just to keep his (at the time non-existent) fan base updated. Pretty sure in those days no one remembered him. They must have thought this actor's dream was far-fetched but they supported him all the same. Nevertheless, he stayed the course. Stayed consistent. Sometimes that's the key.

Also noticed the humility in his tone when he announced the release of the project and he thanked, quite so humbly, the people he worked with for the opportunity. He must have been excited hoping everyone will see and like it. Then, of course, we did and all lost our shit, so to speak. It's always good to observe people when they're at that "stay humble, stay hungry" phase before stardom dismantles their sensibilities. He made me a fan and I will be watching this spot intently. Hope Hollywood comes a-knocking. 

Needless to say, I am strongly on the side of leaving 365dni on Netflix. I actually had a conniption one night before viewing No. 3 when I noticed that it was no longer on my list. I am glad it came along because life was getting a bit heavy. COVID19 on one hand ravaging the global economy, job losses, lockdown, resultant cabin fever, Black Lives Matter marches and protests and looting, police brutality continuing even in the midst of the protests, televised funerals for Corona and police brutality victims, racist statues coming down, radical changes being effected in companies to reflect much-needed diversity, so much heaviness, life was/is weighted. 

Leaning on this nonsense movie with the 2 gorgeous looking leads enjoying themselves on film represents a little lightness, distraction and I have to say, I am so here for that. I wish it had been released before my birthday would have been delightful viewing for my lockdown birthday tucked in with cake and wine, I can tell you that. 

Can you imagine being on the marketing team at Netflix that suggested that the world needed something light and fluffy to refresh from all the extremities it was going through. Some may have said No, opting for more informative content. But it took one Yes. Sometimes that's all you need. I am glad for that Yes. 

We need a little nonsense every once in awhile.  

Tribe Unknown

Years ago. 

In my carefree college days, met this guy by chance who was the sexiest most poetically attuned 'bad boy' I had ever met. He would read me his random notes of poetry right after sex. It was one of the most eye-opening exploratory personal experiences of my life. And his birthday just happened to be exactly 2 weeks after mine. I remember that. I remember him. I remember the sex + poetry + cigarettes (but they were mostly from him). 

Most of my love of literature and passion was inspired by that. By him. Our brief but passionate affair. It wasn't love. It was that one thing that "opens your eyes" transitions you from a Girl to Woman.

And to you who have read this far. Live your life to the fullest. Don't even hold back. Touch someone's life. Allow yourself to be touched. By an experience, an encounter, even just a conversation. Be open to... 

Random Possibilities.

An excerpt from a piece I wrote urging myself to start to see men differently. 

To all the men I’ve known, 

To all the men, I’ve loved, 

I’m so stupid to have fallen in love, 

Had I known, 

I would have chosen those, 

Who were true? 

I would have loved those 

Who were pure? 

I would have chosen to defect, 

From the Tribe Unknown.  

Anita Writes On Aging

In the spirit of my birthday today and trying to maintain some type of positivity and hope under the circumstances, what with Covid19, and slowly aging out of the job market, I have decided not to complain about anything today. 

I will instead share quotes that describe me as an individual, and most importantly, as a black woman. 

Sometimes in our quest to achieve that professional summit we sometimes loose ourselves and our identity and what matters most. These words remind me that I need to stay grounded to myself and always circle back to what matters most. Overall, no matter how overwhelming the events may be just remember that it is going to be alright. In the end. Truth shall prevail. And Justice shall rise even higher. Overall. We have to believe that it shall. It shall get better in the end. Even though now it's...

There must be some place along the route, a halfway house in time, where the runners may pause and ask themselves why they run, what is the prize and is it the prize they really want?  - From a Collection of Beauties by Miranda Otto

    

The most exciting, rewarding and significant relationship you'll ever have is the one you'll have with yourself.  - Sex and The City Finale

 

Be excited to become more aware of who you are. Keep surprising yourself, like a fine wine, keep getting better, and better. It's not about a number. Age is largely what goes on in your head. What matters most is what you do with your life. - Unknown.

 

And in my case, it isn't much, but there's always cake to make us feel better. 

Dress Credits from this Fabulous Occasion...

To Anita...On Her Forty-Faux Birthday

In the spirit of my Forty-Faux birthday and trying to summon some type of positivity and hope under the circumstances, what with #Covid19, and slowly aging out of the job market, and the race wars that are long overdue (our brothers and sisters on the front lines fighting for equality for us all) I have decided not to complain about anything today.

 

If you know me, you'll know that is no small feat. Instead, I'll share one of my favorite quotes by a Nigerian diaspora writer I admire who has spoken words that describe me as an individual, and most importantly, as an educated black woman. We go from hearing "You have no US experience" to hearing (in your own country) "You have no Nigerian experience." And it makes you assume that your vast experience, your international hustle, your having to rise above the "yes we have universities with actual books in Nigeria", all that subliminal racism thrown at you, all that doesn't matter. 

I once heard someone say: People are afraid of what they don't understand. That is true, for the ongoing race wars and for some of us fighting to make a way, a career, in our own country. We need to do better since we know better. But we're so full of ourselves and our so-called accomplishments to even care. 

Sometimes in our quest to achieve that professional summit we sometimes loose ourselves and our identity and what matters most. These words remind me that it is going to be alright. 

One day, they'll understand. And. Accept.

Because No One Likes You - My Baker Hughes Story

Every time I see this picture it reminds me of how I feel. Hopeless. Exhausted. Flummoxed. Exasperated. Like I've suddenly had the wind knocked out of me. Frustrated beyond belief. And generally unable to comprehend the current state of affairs. 

July would make it a year since I quit a job (where I was revered but underpaid) to join another job with what I assumed was a  formidable multi-national company ("Texas Multi-national") in hopes that it would elevate my career to extraordinary heights. Only said job just shy of my 90 days confirmation and a planned trip to London to meet and train with my manager (who has never been to Africa by the way) decided to let me go. Why? What type of company would do such a thing after making you quit a job? What type of manager would do that after listening to salacious stories from other male colleagues and not bother to verify their accuracy? Questions I presented to my manager. 

His response:

Simply because no one likes you. 

Why does no one like me?

 

Pray tell. Let us count the ways. Could it be because:

 

1. Like most Nigerian employers, they may have wanted someone much younger and a lot more naive. The first statement my HR rep said when he met me was, "My, you look rather young." Of course, I do. I apply my anti-aging face cream quite religiously. At first it didn't clue in as I've never had HR in a multi-national comment so expressly I might add on my age or looks!!! Never thought a US company would factor in my age in my job performance. But this Texas Multi-national was not run like no ordinary multinational with international labor standards.

 

2. I also asked that we kindly refrain from speaking Yoruba in the office like we're street hawkers in frigging Ojuelegba or Idumota. This is a Texas Multi-national for crying out loud, certain standards must be adhered to, plus English is the national language of Nigeria. It was so bad even the HR rep spoke Yoruba to his constituents who clearly outnumbered the non-Yoruba speaking staff. I even went as far as putting up a vernacular jar for anyone to put in every time they felt the need to speak Yoruba... ahem...vernacular in the office. Don't get me wrong I have nothing against a local language because I speak one myself. I just have a problem with speaking it in a workplace that has (or was supposed to have) different tribes and even nationalities. Speaking one language and making it the central language alienates members of other tribes, makes them feel as if they are not relevant, as if they're being discussed, as if this is not an inclusive environment. And in the end, it wasn't. It was an exclusive society made up of that ONE tribe, and that tribe dominated and bullied other tribes into submission, so not what a Texas Multi-national should represent in a diverse multicultural country such as...Nigeria. Talk about #DiversityandInclusion when the entire board, senior management and staff is dominated by members of just one tribe. Interesting...

3. Then, consequently I spoke up about the lack of parking. With barely 50 slots for about 500 staff you had to get to work between 5 -7am in order to get a spot. Even then, it was not guaranteed. You get in at 7:01am and security would tell you, too bad, so sad, try again tomorrow. The worst part is some folks will show up at 11am and STILL get a parking spot, how is that possible you might ask? A little something they call...Egunje. In no way was this pending frustration discussed with me at any time during the interview process or the non-existent on-boarding. Can you imagine anything more infuriating than going through rush hour traffic just to have to circle needlessly for a parking spot? What a waste of productive man-hours?

4. Then, of course there was the office seating arrangement. With a 3 months head start on my start date I was shocked to learn that Facilities and HR did not make any arrangements to assign me a designated desk. "Oh but we don't have designated desks over here, they're 'hot seats'." This explanation proffered to a professional who's worked in Atlanta for 14 years. Do you know the last time I started a job and did not have an assigned desk on my first day - 2005! Kept thinking if this was Texas would I have to deal with these housekeeping issues from a company of this size? 

I suppose items and 3 and 4 have been swiftly dealt with by the inevitable unprecedented rather exacting consequences of counteracting Corona. But still...I had to deal with these challenges and a multi-national could not manage its effects on a new employee. 

5. Most importantly, I aired my thoughts (rather loudly I presume) on how I would have preferred to work for the formidable holding company who had just relinquished their majority interest a mere month into my employment instead of this small needing-to-be-divested company. I made them feel less than so they thought they'd make me feel the same. However, anyone who's picked up a Forbes list or has observed the financial market and is aware of said holding company's value knows that there's simply no comparison to that holding company (that's been featured as the No. 1 company for several years) and this Texas Multi-national. It's like comparing Mozilla to Microsoft. Or Google to AskJeeves...Or Amazon to anyone else. You're a small fish in a big pond...deal with it. 

So I was asked to leave. All this because I spoke truth to power and called them out on their inefficiencies that rubbed certain people the wrong way. I hear people who speak up are usually marginalized and pushed back, called difficult, confrontational, you name it. In my case, I was called a wrong fit, translated to mean, "No one likes you."

Needless to say its been an arduous time trying to find work since this debacle. I thought I had a handle on things and I could pick my next job this time: ask the right questions, interview the companies properly, ascertain their work culture and environment and figure out how all of this fits into my career plans, try to determine where, what and whom I could work with - all those luxuries you want in a perfect career. 

Then, COVID19 occurred and global economies capsized and now I'm just the lawyer wondering, should I have sued them? Would it have been worth it? How do people get away with ruining someone's life, someone's carefully planned career like this? How do companies, multi-nationals, abuse labor laws that are existent in their country but deficient in mine? Don't they have international standards to adhere to? How, and why do companies abuse their right to terminate without cause, and how do they do this without repercussion, without fear of tarnishing their goodwill or their Corporate Social Responsibility? How does my Government, Local Content regulations, etc., still let such companies thrive? How do companies preach diversity and inclusion and yet turn around to fire you simply because you speak your truth, and that truth hits too close to home?

Most importantly, personally, how do I not look back but keep looking forward and try, so hard, to really concentrate on my recovery? Suddenly, I feel like John Wick when they killed his dog and he stewed in his anger and contemplated for a brief moment what to do to his attackers. 

Only in this moment, in my moment, what do I do? What can I do?

Meet Urna

Wanted to write a story. Story about a person (we’ll make her Female just because I’m the one telling the story) so a female person named Urna (that's an androgynous enough nondescript name).

Urna lives in a bubble. Constantly hibernating and spending countless hours indoors - watching movies, writing, working, being. And this hibernation would continue for countless periods of time. There was hardly if ever any coming and going of any person that was not Urna. She would seldom let artisans (electricians, plumbers, handymen) in her flat, even if they did she would let one person come in at a time, always taking off their shoes first. The only constant visitor was her cleaning lady and that was as infrequent as possible. She hardly ever had any visitors, male or female, or entertained friends or family. She was by all intents, a soloist. 

The kids in the neighborhood, her neighbors rarely saw Urna. They would only sight her on the way to the grocery store, on her way to work or church. Urna looked to be alone. And they thought that was sad. She spent so much time indoors. When she did go out, she would be seen wearing gloves, so as not to touch anything with her bare hands, and it would irk her so when folks would touch her groceries or any of her personal items, purse or the other, with their bare hands. She would politely ask that they wear gloves if they were to rifle through her things but they would consider this request quite absurd, a bold affront to their personal hygiene. 

It was not certain if Urna really had much use for people. She always stood a feet apart from everyone, not letting them stand too close or bump into her. She hated large crowds such as existed at parties, frou-frou weddings and unnecessary occasions and the foot or vehicle traffic. To manage this, she would intentionally go out on the quiet calm days, Sunday mornings preferably, when everyone was safely tucked away in church. On the occasions when she did go to church she would scour the hall to find a seat in the emptiest of pews, just so she could sit by herself for the Mass, and as the Mass occurred she would seemingly wonder why everyone chose to hug and shake hands enthusiastically at Mass instead of observing the pensive repose of worship. What was even odder is she knew some of these people didn’t particularly care for each other so why bother with the effusive greetings. After Mass, she would observe quiet moments of prayer and then, walk in a bee line straight to her car to make her onward journey back home. Not stopping to greet, hug or embrace any of the other parishioners. 

Professionally, Urna also longed to work fewer days in the office. She had asked her boss several times if her presence in the office was absolutely needed considering that she could do most of her work in the comfort of her home. Her boss vehemently declined, so much so that he even insisted that she not only be present at work every day but also arrive on time, 8am, considering any time thereafter as “late” and inexcusable.

Urna often found herself miserable in the office. It’s open office plan and confined seating arrangement which they thought was on "trend" and "modern" she found very limiting and constrictive. It would have about 40 employees seated side by side to each other sharing the same air space, unable to maintain at least a meter distance from the other. This made her very uncomfortable and inexplicably, violated. She could hear her work colleagues wheezing, sipping and chewing, thus signifying the proximity of their desks. She called the office environment “human sardines in a can.” To top it off, they would spend the first couple of hours of every work day hugging and greeting each other such as in church, except this time, they had just seen each other the day prior. 

Urna abhorred these social platitudes and often spoke against it. This caused her to be termed a “social pariah” and caused people at work to dislike her and consider her a wrong “fit” to their office camaraderie. At home, her reception was the same, the neighborhood thought she was simply “weird”. The gloves, the insistence to sit at home for hours on end, the frequent visits to the grocery store. Very antisocial, she had heard her neighbors whisper about her. One time they even saw her waiting outside for the grocery store to be a little emptier before she could walk in, creepy. 

As humans, we were made to bump, collide and intrude on each other’s spaces. We were made to reach out and hug and embrace each other warmly at every instance, church, work, grocery stores whether required or not. Urna did not appreciate or see the value in this, neither could she find satisfaction in it. If they chose to term her socially awkward so be it, she intended to maintain a certain level of social distance between her and the world, otherwise her personal space would be pierced and, ultimately, violated. 

And so Urna lived until the unprecedented events of COVID19 in 2020. 

_____

Set in 2018. This is socially distanced behavior in existence in 2018.  

Urna practiced socially distance behavior in 2018. While the rest of the world considered her awkward, wrong “fit”,  antisocial, too nit-picky, boujée, strange, she was simply maintaining her "social distancing from society's intent gaze." 

2020. This is now our new normal. A new normal some have embraced and fully celebrated. While others struggle to grasp life without human collision. Was she ahead of her time? Did she foresee the values of maintaining some measure of personal space? Are any of these socially distance practices going to survive the post-COVID world? Do you have any socially distance practices you observed before this hullabaloo that is now common practice in the face of COVID19?

Black Lives Has Joined The Chat

Persistent failure to fully grasp what is going on in the world. 

#2020... 

It's totally turned the world upside our heads. 

Internally I was going through my own struggles. 

Then #COVID19. 

#Lockdown - with it's crippling effect. 

#EconomicCollapse that ensued.

Now. #Racism reared its ugly head to join the conversation. 

As someone who's lived in #Atlanta I recognized racism but I didn't know what it was. Because I came from Africa where all of us are predominantly black, I didn't immediately identify what it was. Kept telling my sister, "These folks, they treat me different." And she made me think it was in my head. Knowing that Atlanta is in the South where racism has deep roots, if I had researched my history I would have understood the hand I was being dealt. But then, you always imagine that it's cause you're not exposed to the Western World and all its trimmings. That being your first sojourn outside Africa, you're just not used to how certain people, people that are not Africans, behave. 

It strangely felt somewhat like an externalization. I would go to bars and restaurants that catered to only white folk and my friends would ask me, why did I go there? It's not a black club/restaurant. I didn't know there were unspoken restrictions as to places you could go. My Nigerian self thought every business was open to every paying customer. But these businesses had their niche and I guess I wasn't one of them. You would literally be the only black patronising customer. They would insist on checking your ID and holding onto your credit card just so they ensure you don't run out on them. Even #tattoo parlors and artists would prefer not to tattoo a black person but I would ignore them. You could tell from their tone. They would recommend another black tattoo artist for you as if, that's the only person who could understand how to tattoo black skin. 

I simply chose to blank out this adult ignorance. Felt that as long as I had my good friends Mastercard, Visa and Amex - I was good. They should get over themselves. Coming from #Africa that's all that really matters - Money, Wealth, Power. That's why we worship money and Power - people in authority. But in the Western World, it's the color of your skin. In Africa, we deal with classicism and the ever existent tribalism (such as was chronicled in my post My BH Story) but in #America/Western world they deal with racism. 

Isn't that something? The societal disparities we all nurse in our tiny world.

Needless to say that I stand with everyone fighting for what seemed like it existed in my head. Now I feel seen. It explains somewhat why I came back to the Motherland - even though I don't quite understand it. 

In the end, we own this place. We need to remember this and claim this as loudly as possible.  

#Alllove #AnitaWrites #blacklivesmatter #blackpower #weshallovercome