RANTINGS OF A RANDOM (Gay) NIGERIAN (Entry 21)

Hello guys, not that this is necessary, but all the same, I want to clarify that this journal is not a weekly account of my life. Therefore the things I write about every Wednesday are not things that happen between Wednesdays. Some of my entries are weeks apart because I am constrained by space to write everything as they happen.

I had a terrible week, and by the time Friday came around, I was totally exhausted. We had auditors from the regional office around, looking into the books, and everybody was understandably on the edge. My boss kept snapping at everyone as these men pored over every financial detail. And at a point, I secretly wished I could poison their coffee. So I was more than happy when Friday came and I called it a week and headed home to a cool bath, a good book and some coffee.

THE CROWD (Sunday Pick-Me-Up)

So, I went through a phase recently (I’m still trying to pull through). I was at once trying to get a particular cloth with a tricky design done for a client and in this dark, gloomy, cranky grouchy, sad place. And then, I decided to watch old episodes of Glee; you know, sing along, laugh a little and lighten my mood.

And then, there was this particular episode that had Sue talking in her corner. We all know how Sue can be annoying and mean. But she kinda made sense that day, a whole lot of sense to me. In that moment, I actually fell in love with that evil stepmother for like . . . five seconds.

She said: “…whether I’m accepting a honorary doctorate or performing a citizen’s arrest, people ask me ‘Sue, what’s your secret?’ Well, I will tell you my secret, Western Ohio. Sue Sylvester is not afraid to shake things up!”

RANTINGS OF A RANDOM (Gay) NIGERIAN (Entry 20)

Today I will be talking about one issue only which has been on my mind for a while and which has formed the crux of many arguments I have had with my friends.

I grew up with many boys – nine boys in total – because daddy had a few sons and took in every stray relative who needed a place to stay. Growing up was always noisy and androgen-filled. And then, as we hit puberty, I started going out with my plenty brothers and we began testing the waters of our raging heterosexual hormones. And all the while, I kept my budding awareness that I liked boys a secret, well and truly hidden by the strength of my mortification.

I eventually lost my virginity to our house help. Her name was Ogonna. I was about fifteen, she was twenty. I had seen a few porno movies in VCR (is that still around?) so I experimented with what I’d seen with her. The first attempt was a disaster, and I came in less than two minutes. *covers face*

Eventually we started having sex regularly after everyone went to sleep. And then, Mommy found out (Actually I was not the only one giving it to her; in a house of ten boys… Go figure), and she was sent home.

I went on to lose my second virginity (is that even a phrase?) to a guy when I was nineteen. The experience was electrical, like an explosion in my brain. And I haven’t looked back since.

Carl’s Existentialism VI

Is it crazy that some of my favorite poems are about death and finding solitude? Maybe it is because I’m not overly exposed to a wide variety of poetry. Or it’s because there is something about loneliness that attracts me. Perhaps, it is the safety and comfort it offers, with the satisfaction that no one can hurt me in my bubble. Or maybe it’s my sheer curiosity, born out of nothingness.

Two of my favorite poems right now are I Am! by John Clare and Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye.

From I Am!, my favorite part is:

What’s On Your Mind… VI

A few months ago, a certain KDian was published with a story about his friend who is a good dancer and who intended to partake at a campus competition. This KDian was worried that since his friend is effeminate, his dancing at the competition might draw unnecessary attention to him and perhaps confirm the speculation and rumors about his sexuality, and then he, being close friends with the dancer, would automatically be tagged as gay.

As someone who has become comfortable with his sexuality and in his own skin, it’s easy to dismiss these concerns with an impatient wrist flick. But then, I remember my days at the university, when I was scared to death of anyone even having the slightest flicker of suspicion concerning my sexuality. I was so obsessed with covering up my tracks and ensuring that no one ever had any reason to imagine that I was anything but heterosexual. I devoted enormous energies and resources into being “one of the boys” at the expense of my true self. Apparently my efforts didn’t go far enough, because a few gay gays with very functional gaydar ‘sniffed’ me out and would occasionally come over to ‘say hi’. My response, driven by blind panic, was usually the same – a frosty countenance, and an inward prayer that no one was observing me interact with these ‘gays’.

JAMES’ JOURNAL (Episode 39)

June 13

I read a book while I was in Secondary school. The name was My Family And Other Animals. I remember picking it up from a bed in my granny’s house. The first few and last few pages were torn but I managed to see the potential in it, especially with the title. And I began to read it and I’m so glad I did because it transported me to a world where even the most ordinary of nature was made to seem like a wonder. The author painted a picturesque world that I imagine in chalk pastels or watercolour images. His use of imagery was so fantastic I just needed to close my eyes to actually be where he was talking about and hear the cicadas chirrup or feel the stifling heat or whatever.

It also awakened something in me – my love for learning how animals behave and observing them in their natural habitats. Growing up, I’d always loved animals. Most animals. Even the ones I feared or detested, I still liked to learn about because they were so fascinating.

The Day I Find Out My Son Is Gay

FOREWORD: This poem was adapted by Teflondon from an originally written poem by Okina Idek, titled ‘If My Son Were To Be Gay’, and originally published on thelmathinks.com.

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The day I find out my son is gay

I will get on my knees and pray

Ask God to give him strength

For on this earth, Gay equals pain

I will call on him, I will say:

Son, I know it is who you are

But in society, we all play parts

No one will understand you being gay

They will fight you and break you

Hover and dim the brightness that is your light

They will discriminate against and incriminate you

They will judge and barricade you from happiness

They will not rest, son. No, they won’t.

But strive not to give up who you are

MY FEARS

FOREWORD: When I read this, my first emotion was surprise. Considering the person who sent it for publication, I could not believe the depth of vulnerability he showed himself capable of revealing, the way he did with this piece. In the heels of my surprise came admiration at how frank he was with the write-up.

So, here, check on it below. And let us know if you’ve got fears of your own.

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When you meet me, you meet someone who has everything going for himself. Someone who gained admission into the university at a very young age; I’m not the first child, but I was the first to gain admission and to graduate amongst my siblings. I was even the youngest in my department; not that I was that young, but I attended a Federal University where you see papas and mamas in the same class with pikin. I came out tops in my class and have an award to show for it. I work in a very nice establishment, which I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon, even though the pay is not as much as I desire. I am the shining light in my family, the one that everyone comes to for advice. Once I am at home, the house is filled with laughter, because I have a sense of humor that is infectious. I am the friend you can run to when you have problems and you are sure of getting solutions. I am ever smiling. I am the first to get to work, and most times, the last to leave. I help my people when I’m needed and have secured the admiration of many around me. To the world, I am a perfect guy who has everything going on for him.

JAMES’ JOURNAL (Entry 38)

June 6

It’s quite unfortunate that I have to chill till Sunday to say this since Caitlyn Jenner would be a bit of stale news. I’m probably going to sound like a grand douche bag for the next few paragraphs or so, but I feel like I’m correct and nobody has brought up any tangible reason to make me shift my ground.

It started with a tweet I found hilarious and decided to update on my BBM. It went like so: ‘So Caitlyn can transition into a woman, but person no fit bleach…’ or something like that.

I chuckled. Very funny. Then I thought about it. It could be looked at in two ways. This tweet was just an ignorant something the tweep updated to make his followers giggle, or it could actually be pointing out a bit of double standard.

WHAT WE ARE GETTING WRONG IN THE “MGM” CONVERSATION

Definition:

MGM (Married Gay Man) /em ’dƷi: em/ (derogatory) A closeted homosexual in a heterosexual marriage. Usually applied to males, but can also describe a lesbian or bisexual whose spouse is unaware of their true sexuality.

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Whenever the “MGM” issue comes up on the blog, it’s always a cockfight between the Married/Soon-to-be-married guys and the self-proclaimed Never-to-be-married ones. At this rate, we will not make progress in this important conversation.

So here goes: 6 things we are doing wrong in the “MGM” conversation.