‘Great events calm me. Trifles irritate my nerves.’


……..Said no one ever. (As far as great events having a calming effect, both good and bad, are concerned).

First, I have no explanation whatsoever for using my own pictures in this post. Anyone who knows me knows that it took some serious fight with my awkwardness to make utter fun of me lying down on the floor (which has been my current mood off-late) and putting my barely covered bum on a wet street in near -12 degrees weather behind some crappy motel. Anyways, not the point-ish.

I’ve been meaning to post this for the longest of time. Like 7 months ago, actually let’s just say like two months go. Every time I turned on my laptop and keyed in the first few sentences, I would try and go back to Twitter, read the hateful, vile and sexist comments that were indirectly redirected at me, for some motivation, only for me to be so disappointed in humanity. Or how black girls look like something that is the opposite of what drop dead gorgeous European girls look like. Or something CRUDE (even for me) about Africa. There was always something. I cannot exactly say I am fully motivated to do this today. I’m mourning though and writing always has a way of helping me deal with loss. That, and the after-effect of watching ‘Hidden Figures‘, ‘Queen of Katwe‘ and waiting for Disney’s Belle in ‘Beauty and the Beast‘.  So welcome to my almost always incoherent mind (seriously).

Here goes.

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(original article posted in The New York Times Style Magazine;10/17/2016)

By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie:

She had rhythm, a flow and swerve, hands slicing air, body weight moving from foot to foot, a beautiful rhythm. In anything else but a black American body, it would have been contrived. The three-quarter sleeves of her teal dress announced its appropriateness, as did her matching brooch. But the cut of the dress scorned any “future first lady” stuffiness; it hung easy on her, as effortless as her animation. And a brooch, Old World style accessory, yes, but hers was big and ebulliently shaped and perched center on her chest. Michelle Obama was speaking. It was the 2008 Democratic National Convention. My anxiety rose and swirled, watching and willing her to be as close to perfection as possible, not for me, because I was already a believer, but for the swaths of America that would rather she stumbled.

She first appeared in the public consciousness, all common sense and mordant humor, at ease in her skin. She had the air of a woman who could balance a checkbook, and who knew a good deal when she saw it, and who would tell off whomever needed telling off. She was tall and sure and stylish. She was reluctant to be first lady, and did not hide her reluctance beneath platitudes. She seemed not so much unique as true. She sharpened her husband’s then-hazy form, made him solid, more than just a dream.

But she had to flatten herself to better fit the mold of first lady. At the law firm where they met before love felled them, she had been her husband’s mentor; they seemed to be truly friends, partners, equals in a modern marriage in a new American century. Yet voters and observers, wide strips of America, wanted her to conform and defer, to cleanse her tongue of wit and barb. When she spoke of his bad morning-breath, a quirky and humanizing detail, she was accused of emasculating him.

Because she said what she thought, and because she smiled only when she felt like smiling, and not constantly and vacuously, America’s cheapest caricature was cast on her: the Angry Black Woman. Women, in general, are not permitted anger — but from black American women, there is an added expectation of interminable gratitude, the closer to groveling the better, as though their citizenship is a phenomenon that they cannot take for granted.

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In my ambitious quest to further my education resume, I packed my bags and headed to the United States about a year ago. Frankly, I did not know what to expect other than what I had seen in the movies, you know, the Frat parties, the skipping classes (obviously not me Mum) or hanging out with people and having road trips, pretty much what I had been doing in my university days back in Kenya. I was excited nonetheless. It’s a huge deal leaving the country and going abroad where I’m from. Because people think that abroad is like heaven and that life is all 100%great and mapped out perfectly for you. *cue the rolling of eyes*. How wrong.

Before writing any further, I would love to give a HUGE SHOUT OUT TO PEOPLE WHO BRAVELY LEAVE THEIR HOMES AND TRAVEL ABROAD FOR WHATEVER REASON. YOU ALL ARE HEROES AND HAVE MY DEEPEST RESPECT, truly. Living abroad is hard. Continue reading


When it comes to patriotism, I can firmly say (without seeming too cocky) that I am one of the most patriotic citizens in Kenya. I literally do everything that would qualify me in to the category of the most patriotic citizens: I pay my taxes (by extension for now), I follow every letter in the constitution tooth and nail, albeit begrudgingly most times, I do not partake in corruption or any other form of..you know, breaking the law,  I keep our environment clean, I can belt the national anthem so loud I will bet you that a hippopotamus would not Continue reading




‘Beasts of No Nation’ is a Netflix produced film based on the novel by Uzodinma Iweala with the same title. It stars a young actor in the guidance of a somewhat misguided warlord portrayed flawlessly by Idris Elba. The film tells the ghastly story of a young boy and his journey from a child, to a captive to a soldier in ‘an unnamed West African Country’ and finally finding the balance of accepting that he is not perfect but he is no beast either.

The film is narrated by Agu, a young boy is forced into war after seeing his Father and elder brother killed by Government militia in his village. Stranded, He finds his way into the forest where he is forced to hide from the constant and terrifying sounds of gunshots and bomb explosions without food and water for some time. He experiences food poisoning when he results into eating leaves from an unknown tree. While vomiting, he sees a boy his age and decided to run after him (for company or curiosity? Who knows?). Through this chase, he is captured by the NDF soldiers who decide to spare his life but force him into becoming a soldier. Agu, Continue reading





In my quest of exploring more ways of what makes me a Feminist, I have been exposed to quite a lot of material, most of which prove to be quite interesting. Be it websites, book-clubs (Emma Watson’s “Our Shared Shelf”), news feeds or social media links; I have come to discover that there is more than just one way of combating inequality. Sure, we have the pressing matters such as taking underprivileged girls back to school, advocating against child marriage, saving innocent children, especially girls,  from unspeakable crimes by much older men, from the Boko Haram in Nigeria, advocating for equal pay for both sexes just but to name a few. However, in order to combat the ill that is Gender Inequality, we need to look at the different perspectives through which inequality is presented and how exactly we can create a world where both boys and girls feel free.

Today, I would love to talk about Sexism. Now I feel that this post is a bit overdue. Continue reading

My top 9 strong and feminist Disney princesses of all time.



Anyone who has the slightest inkling of who I am knows that I am a tard bit obsessed with cartoons. I mean really, they are such simple yet creative ways of communicating information to not only children but adults in general. (Yes, I said it. I dare you to raise your hand if you have never loved cartoons, or animations in your entire life).  As a child of the 90’s, (you know, people born between 1990 to 1999), my entire life was shaped by cartoons, particularly those produced by Cartoon Network (Which I dearly miss) and The Disney Channel. I wanted to be a Disney princess so much! I craved having boys swoon over me, having exceptionally long hair and singing in gardens filled with beautiful roses as animals would be my best friends. I know, I was naive. Then again, I think that Disney movies, through their princesses, indirectly shaped my perception of what being a strong girl was, as I struggled to make my own mark in a world that was, and still is constantly trying to define us.

Ah yes, Disney movies. These movies spark bitter-sweet memories of my childhood. They birthed my ‘damsel in distress hopeless romantic” notion which, to this day, I am still trying to shake off. To say that they were my drug would be a complete understatement. I would rush home from school just to watch and re-watch Cinderella, Rapunzel, Princess Jasmine just but to name a few. My mother would literally spank me for failing to do my chores for the simple fact that I was too busy glued to the television screen. So maybe I am still obsessed with a few of these classics (and the latest Disney movies keep getting better and better!). Hey, just because I am getting older physically does not necessarily mean that I should equally age at heart! (Yes Mum, I know it irks you that I still watch Disney Junior and Nickelodeon, could you just leave me be?) Without further a do, here is a list of my top nine Disney princesses who, from an early age, defined the meaning of Feminism to impressionable young girls like myself.


9. Jasmine



At number 9, we have the princess who stole Alladin from me (Just kidding. Hey, I was a budding teenager, I was and still am allowed to have crushes on Him and Dexter!) Continue reading