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Mayowa Fagbure: I write

Bird Watching

Posted on November 14, 2018 by mayowafagbure

I watched as two birds perched on my neighbour’s green roof. The considerable space they left between themselves reminded me… Read more Bird Watching

what makes me happy?

Posted on November 14, 2018November 14, 2018 by mayowafagbure

So, you may ask what really makes me happy? Since I always talk about the things that make me sad.… Read more what makes me happy?

Strong Black Woman

Posted on October 5, 2018November 14, 2018 by mayowafagbure

I am not a strong black woman. I only have the power to be stretched thin and not thinner like… Read more Strong Black Woman

Life Lessons

Posted on September 4, 2018 by mayowafagbure

I have many friends. They tell me that they missed me when I post after a couple of hours. They… Read more Life Lessons

Love.

Posted on August 15, 2018 by mayowafagbure

It is night time. Everywhere is dark. I feel a mix of sadness and release. I am not looking at… Read more Love.

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This is a quote from a short story I wrote that's titled 'An Epiphany'. It's about a girl struggling to find out who she is after her two best friends move away from home. It's on my blog, the link as always is in my bio for you to read it 💛 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Me.
When I Hit You - Meena Kandasamy • • • • ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Kandasamy writes about an Indian woman who is abused by her newly-wed husband. In this novel, everything was described perfectly. So much so, that when the husband hit her, I flinched and as it got worse I was whispering "Run away! Leave him!" ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ What saddened me the most in this novel, was how her parents were aware of how bad things were in their daughter's marriage and did nothing to intervene. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Our cultures make women stay silent because they fear judgement and social rejection. But it's odd that victims are blamed for something they had no hand in. Shouldn't the abusers be the social rejects? And not the other way around? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I also found it interesting how the narrator is a highly educated, feminist writer. It showed that abuse can happen regardless of status or education. This book is a must read. @naijabookbae you need to read this one o.
Black people aren't all magic. They cry too. They crack too. Specifically, the Black Woman. Why is she praised as God? Why is the black woman's humanity seen as non-existent? I wrote on my feelings about this in a new poem, on my Blog. Its titled 'Strong Black Woman'. Interested in reading it? The link in my bio will take you there ☝️ . . . #nigerianwriters #africanwriters #writingblog #writerssociety #nigerianreaders #lagoscreatives #madeinnigeria #keepwriting
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary." - Steve Jobs. . . . #Nigerianwriters #africanwriters #writingblog #writerssociety #nigerianreaders #lagoscreatives #writingsociety #spilledthoughts #writersgram
Do some statements ever just SLAP you? 😂 Seriously, though. Have you ever heard or read something that hits you deeply and makes you think, "Wow." This Instagram story @stevenndukwu posted, did that for me. It's a simple message that I've heard before but this time, it stuck. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Swipe ➡️ to watch a screen record of the story. Share👇any statement that's actually done that for you.
I am always in conflict with myself. I go back and forth over the things that I should do or be doing or will do. Do I share it all on social media? Get sucked into the craze? Discover fame? Make for myself a big name? Or shall I retreat? Cover up, hide away. Will I learn all of the things there are in this world? I have to learn everything. See, I have to know everything. The writing is the most important and it cannot take place in the midst of all of this noise. I will not allow distractions. BUT there is a video on my screen of a girl in a pink zebra print bodysuit, gyrating, calling out to me. And right beside it, is a picture of the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. And I become engrossed in the only world that has accepted me. I fall back on my plans and slip slowly, quietly into the old ways. I struggle to find a balance between learning anew and entertainment. I struggle to find the value in my daily scroll, through this feed. I deceive myself that I am learning subconsciously. But am I, really? I don't know what to choose. In this game, I am only given two options. That is, to truly see or to simply be seen? . . 📷: me . #Nigerianwriters #africanwriters #writingblog #writerssociety #nigerianreaders #lagoscreatives #writingsociety #spilledthoughts #nigerianreaders #writingofig
I have many friends. They tell me that they missed me when I post after a couple of hours. They are virtual and their hugs; weightless. Their goodbyes – inevitable. - I know what it feels like to seek validation from invisible eyes. To seek friendship from pixel people. To crawl into holes that are artificial. Holes that somehow make you forget. They carry different names. I wrote a blog post about the life lessons I've learnt so far. The part above is about finding solace in social media and internet friends. I had a conversation yesterday with my uncle, who thinks that the disadvantages of social media far outweigh the advantages. But, I think the benefits are a lot more. What do you think? Are we better off with or without social media? 👇 Click the link in my bio to read my life lessons, so far. . #mayowafagbure
My motto🤷
I am not who I say I am. I drink out of cups not meant for me. I breathe in and out but still feel like I am choking. I talk to God so little and on days so far apart from each other. I think that I am scared to be raw and open before Him. He is everything, knows everything. And kneeling before Him, I have no room to pretend. No lines to recite, no acting like I am okay. I am not who I say I am. I wish to drive at night with the windows down. When I close my eyes, I am a character in those artsy movies. They have their hands out of the roof of a car. Those hands glide like snakes in the air, they feel invincible. They fall in love and when it does not work out, they bounce back. I am who I am on the inside, that no one knows about. My mind is dark and cluttered. I keep stacking boxes on top of each other to make room for the words I do not need. For the people who only bring me pain. There is more to life than the present. An ever glittering future awaits me. I am waiting this moment out. 📸: @drikwritography ✨ . . . #nigerianwriters #africanwriter #africanwriting #nigerianwriter #writingislife #writingblog #writerssociety
📝 I was unaware . . . #Nigerianwriters #africanwriters #writingblog #writerssociety #nigerianreaders #wordporn
There's a new post on my blog, titled "Wetness on my cheeks & Faded vision". . . Here's an excerpt: 👇 "Do you know what it feels like to be split into two? I am willing myself to be one. Not to have my mind split into warring sides. You must be sad. You must be happy. You must trust God. You must love. You do not need people. It is split into the rational and irrational. The withdrawn and the outspoken." . . Let me know what you think about it. Click the link in my bio to read ✨✨ #nigerianwriters #writingblog #africanwriters #nigerianreader #shotbyme #writingislife
#2 • Sitting in an airport in the midst of hundreds of people, with foreign faces and clothes I have never seen before. Representing cultures I have never experienced. It makes me think about life. About how I will never be able to experience every thing it has to offer. I want to live the life of each and every person. If only for a day. Speak their languages, live in their homes, be a part of their families. What is the purpose of only living this one life? I wish my soul could inhabit different bodies. What is it about myself and wishing for the impossible?
💘
L-O-V-E 👇 . . It is night time. Everywhere is dark. I feel a mix of sadness and release. I am not looking at the past. But it is trying to pull me back. Slowly. With a thought. Which leads to tears filling my eyes. With a memory, which makes them flow. You do not own me. I am breaking free from this. There was a chain you placed when you left and I am only now loosing myself from it. Don't you see that this is over? That you have ruined it all for me? Now, I second guess and fall into forgetful lapses. And no one is near that I trust. They will still betray me, like you did. My words are here. That is the only thing you did not take from me. And it feels a waste to pen my words down with emotions concerning you. And I was frightened that you would see them. I ran from it all. But today I reclaim everything. This is release. From a love gone sour. From stone cold eyes and a bitter heart. I must love, again.
I really love phone calls. There's something about hearing a voice down the line. Fuzzy. Imagining a face along with the words. Smiling. Don't ever laugh on a phone call because I will too, even if nothing is funny. On a phone call, I can imagine anything. Don't tell me where you are. In my mind, you're lying on your bed. Your feet are up and swinging in the air as you stare at the ceiling. You're listening to my voice and it is soothing. The lights are low and your heart is beating steadily. Messages do not give me the connection I desire. Let my phone ring. Let my heart beat skip. Let my hello be shaky and nervous. Let the conversation last over an hour. Phone calls with loved ones are everything and some. .

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