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A Girls Dream, A Mother's Prayer.

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Nnem I remember,
The pitter patter, rain drops on the window pane of my bedroom, too loud yet incapable of blocking out the sound of your gentle sobs, the ones you cried softly so you wouldn't "wake" the children that never slept,
the heaving of your chest as you spit out the words " nne I have tried! This will be my last night here"... Night after night.

I can not forget, the gurgling that made me rush to your room door, heart banging against my chest, "let me out of here!", so I can fall on the ground and break into a million little pieces and be blown into the wind never to return here. Numb. It was sore relief and welled up anger to know you were only laughing, " why were you laughing in that manner?! You scared me!".


You see, the fear of what you went through built a false resistance of man in me, like to be free I had to stay bound beneath layers of suspicion and sensitivity, so everywhere you shielded yourself from the blows, I rose …

Literal Frames

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Through different stages of my life, I have always wished I could exchange my body for another. It's been a year and two months since I stopped paying visits to the mirror. I've never felt good enough, my state of mind has gradually swung me numb, a countless times I feel dumb. Their voices like a tape on replay have formed an album of their own. I grew up hearing words like
"You will never amount to anything"
"You are good for nothing"
"useless shegoat"
"Ugly beast"
These words have taken a grip on my being. Some days my mom looks at me with disgust and spits, saying "You ugly thing, I wish I aborted you".
When I go to church I really wish to believe what the preacher is saying, but these tracks of verbal scurrilities preach a sermon of their own in my mind. I felt insulted the first time I heard the words "I love you." Somehow I figured I was being mocked, and so became defensive. I have been forced to believe a…

My Life As An Object Traded Over Two Continents, In 995 Words #HearMeToo

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I was thirteen years old when Uncle Frank told us we had the chance to begin a new life in Europe. I remember his almost hysterical plea to my parents to let my sister and I cross the seas with him. He had been there five years already, and he said it was flowing with unbelievable opportunities. “Unbelievable opportunities” was the exact phrase he said. I have it etched on my mind's walls, perhaps forever.

"The girls can go to school there,” he explained. “Then they could get into university, and find good jobs! This is the very best thing you could ever do to them.”

My parents weren’t educated. They knew nothing of visa applications and emigration processes. My sister and I were too young and na├»ve to question Uncle Frank either. He had been kind and loving to us- he helped with our school fees and bought us Christmas clothes. There was no reason to not be happy that he, the most compassionate of our mother’s brothers, was setting things in place for a wonderful future for …

UN Women Interactive InfoGraphics: Know The Facts about GBV and Violence Against Women and Girls. #HearMeToo #ItIsEnough

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All the real stories Ozugo tells about Gender Based Violence and why individuals, Non Governmental Organisations (NGOs), the public and private sector, international bodies, media, health organisations, and the government need to all work hand in hand to eliminate this pandemic from our communities, cannot be fully understood until we are deliberate about understanding what these forms of violence are and what the various people groups need to do in order to contribute to the fight against Gender Based Violence.

In this Infographic Eduserie, UN women.org gives an interactive awareness prompt to help us understand what Gender Based Violence in the form of Violence against women is really all about.

Find UNWomen Interactive Infographic Here.

Understanding the damage Gender based Violence does to individuals psychologically, physically, emotionally, socially, exposes us to the real dangers that will inevitably be prevalent in our communities and in the world at large if we do not cont…

The Devil Wears Tattoo's: Of A Painful Past, PTSD and Healing In 412 words. #HereMeToo

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How I Got Plucked Out of A Life Shattering Hole, in 877 Words #HearMeToo

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"You pledged to remain in this marriage for better or for worse. You need to stay strong, so this sacred vow you made before God will stand."

This was madam Tinuke, a respected church elder, trying to rile me up for the battle ahead. A battle to save my marriage from collapse, a fight to keep myself respectfully subservient to my husband, a struggle to retain a home my children could call a shelter.

As though I still had any of these things in tact.

Segun was a man with dashing looks, a captivating smile, and the carriage of first class royalty. His speech was smooth, his manners refined, and his intellect razor sharp. When I fell for him a decade ago, I thought I was going to have my fill of these sweetnesses. I still recall my excitement at the thought of spending the rest of my life with this near perfect soul. My goodness, did he even have a dot of blemish on his physique or character?

His sturdy hands gave me a terrible answer. In just a couple of months after our wedd…

Twice Bitten : Of Shame, Incest and an Age Old Cleansing Ritual In 656 words #HearMeToo

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It was shame that escorted me to my uncles house in Orlu during my mock exams at age fifteen. Shame dragged my family name before my eyes as my mother mopped soiled wrappers full of my blood from her bedroom floor after a rape and abortion gone sour. What I desperately tried to hide.
Me, a girl in school, it was shame that made me swear before God and man that the reason why I was using sanitary pads from June to July, face flushed from excess bleeding was because of my monthly period. Yes, it was my period and anybody who dared to whisper or even think otherwise was deluded, such a person was simply begging for it, ohh I had lots of burning rage to give on the matter. So when my aunt in Owerri got tired of asking me if I was pregnant or plagued by an unknown sickness that was draining color from my face down to my finger tips, and I would impulsively show her the evidence of my innocence in a soaked up pad I had changed five times already that day, she spoke to her husband in hushed…