[In the heart of an African society, I clung to the shimmering fragments of the day I was born, a day veiled in my infancy yet etched in the legacy of my people.] Societal expectations, like ancient echoes of the ‘signs of the time,' weighed heavily upon me. I had grown up engulfed in my own myth in which childhood was supposed to be carefree, playing in the sun until witnessing the sunset, getting involved in some minor misdemeanor, making new friends to play toys with and having adventurous experiences every day. This had been my own dimension of life. Every member of the society who knew or thought they knew me believed that my arrogance was congenital. [I still remember vividly, on the 12th of May in 2008, when my mother, who had been carrying her third pregnancy, finally gave birth to my little sister.] A swarming crowd of relatives, neighbors, and members of the society was dispersed in the yard. The outdoor cooking area buzzed with people, while inside the house, my mother sat on a chair, cradling my baby sister amidst a throng of guests. A lot of singing and ululating came from both young and elderly women, who looked perfect in their African attire, accompanied by penetrating whistles from the men. Children of my age were taking turns dancing in the center of the circle, surrounded by a clapping and cheering crowd. I was the only one lost in a mish-mash of thoughts, wishing every day could be like this. Everyone was highly spirited and filled with nude exhilaration. [Eager to have a look at the special, newly introduced family member, I walked into the house and stood right next to my mother.] I gazed at her as she swayed the baby gently from side to side fluttering her with kisses while boils of joyful tears formed in her eyes. Her tears of joy spoke of a time gone by, when I was the star beneath a similar sky. She politely whimpered, “Simba this is the same thrill that overflowed our hearts the day you were born, all the celebration and gifts once belonged to you.” Her words painted a picture of celebration so true. In those moments, I felt the echoes of my past, wishing for days where such bliss could last. [The week of my fifth birthday and my sister's birth marked a pivotal moment as my parents enrolled me in kindergarten-which began with teachings so true.] I was taught societal values that included showing respect to elderly members and honoring their presence by prioritizing them in every possible way. This involved greeting elderly people either by kneeling down, bowing my head, or performing the rhythmic African clapping of hands. I was told to relate and share with neighbors, help the needy and apologize after having done something wrong. Grandfather told me folktales aimed at passing on life survival skills, which include hunting, herding cattle, fetching firewood, fishing, preparing the land for rain, and assuming the fatherly role in my father's absence. My mother's kitchen beckoned for assistance, while my father's garden called for care. Each task a step in the life I was to embrace, yet my youthful heart longed for a different space. [The state of being consumed in my own dimension of life hindered me from accepting the entire norms and core values.] The resonating memories of the day I was born kept me contemplating to the extent that I wanted to live the same day, free of duties and the cumulating orthodox. I struggled to execute the norms and values and become responsible. There was this one time when I got home very late, far beyond my carefully set child curfew. I went to play with my neighborhood friends. We had our own custom-made football made of plastics and papers. I was enjoying the match in the dusty road when I heard my mother shouting out my name. I knew it was time up for me. I refused to comply with my conscience and decided to ignore her regardless of my friends who opted I rushed home. When the sun had completely set and everyone was heading home, I walked home covered in mist of dust. When I reached home, my mother flogged me, and I was so angry that I skipped supper. At that moment I felt I wanted to be alone especially being extremely inspired by the popular western movie “Home Alone”. [As I grew up, I matured in my appreciation of being African, and to this day, I still value African culture.] I strongly believe that the mandate of our culture is to place a good background foundation, uplift one another regardless of our differences in sex, change our lives through embracing and showing love to our native country's beliefs, practices and mode of contact and lastly, to take pride in our skin color. I can testify because I have been able to make good conduct with people at school, church and the society despite the time it took me to accept the morals. So now I see the norms as the map to my quest, in every lesson learned, in every test. The essence of culture, in each guiding light shows me the way to success, through both day and night

Writing has always been something I have loved doing. I mostly use it as a coping tool in my life since I was young and over the last several years I have strayed from it. One of my dreams has always been to write a novel, not publish though. I just want the satisfaction of having written one but do not want anyone to actually read it. I am always afraid of letting people into my mind, not for fear of what is in my mind, rather, fear of giving parts of myself away. I decided that I am tired of not doing something I love out of fear of others thoughts because there is nothing I can do about that and I am only holding myself back. At the age of 32 I have finally decided to not let something I love only be a part of the negativity in my life because there is no logic in that. I anticipate most of my writing will be depressive but for me that is good. It is the only way I know how to heal from my pain no matter how much it may be in my head. It is the only way that I know how to free myself from my depression, anxiety and general frustrations of life because, lets be honest, life is not easy for anybody. We all have pain and we all struggle with something and it is all relative to our own life. This is how I know how to heal and continue in a forward motion. I am excited for the new journey I am taking and hope to one day actually write a book. Maybe I will even publish but at this point I am happy with the baby steps I am taking, with Biopage being the first. I created my first public writing a moment ago and it was for the writing contest. The moment I submitted I felt such pride in myself and excitement for what that represented for me. I have no fantasy of winning or even of anybody reading it but the fact that I even did it has made me feel so good. I currently have zero followers and am following nobody but I am here and I am proud. I never would have thought I would actually have the courage to write publicly and right now I don't even care if it is any good. I should have been asleep hours ago because I do have a toddler and work in the morning but I wanted to make sure I documented this pride in myself because it has been a while since I have felt any pride in myself outside of being a mother. That is not to say being a mother is not the best thing I have ever done but only to say I have to remember I am also an individual outside of my beautiful family. I am something outside of work and cooking dinners and running a household. I am worth the time to myself to use my desk that has been sitting here gathering dust and I will make myself proud. My family deserves the best from me and I am not at my best when I not writing.

I know how heartbroken you are not being able to walk on the stage and be handed your diploma. You worked so hard for just that moment, the moment to shine, to show everyone what you have accomplished during your years in school. Whether to give valedictorian or class president speeches, to raise your diploma high in triumph, to smile for every camera waiting to capture the glint of awesome wonder in your eyes – the moment was yours – or should have been. Then the unthinkable happened. A virus that scientists named COVID-19 started spreading its vicious bacterium throughout the world. It did not care your age or gender, your education or lack of. It is just waiting for that one careless motion to leap onto your skin, invade your lungs and then impatiently wait. Wait and watch to see what medication treatment will be administered in time to save your life while you fight for the very breath we often take for granted. Often, even when that treatment is finally found, it is still too late. How my heart aches for every one of you who so looked forward to your graduation day. Having family members of my own who will have to miss this day, I know very well how disappointed you are. However, please keep one thing in mind. Not being able to walk on the stage in glory and triumph, does not take away the fact that you achieved your goal. You passed your tests! You accomplished what you set out to do. Your family and friends are still proud of you and when this virus is over, while you will still not be given that golden opportunity to proudly walk on the stage, your family and friends will still celebrate with you and for you. No matter what your course of study, you are what you set out to be - and nothing, no virus, no quarantine, no walking on stage, nothing can take that away from you. Yes, you can be disappointed. It is your right! To work so hard for your degree and be denied the opportunity to share that glory and pride with others is not fair. Unfortunately, life is not fair and that is something you will find out if you have not already. Life is the best of what you make it to be. Grieve for a lost opportunity to shine for a day but do not make it a goal. You already achieved the goal you set out to reach. Be proud of who you are and what you have become. We are.

“Identity”… Man, what a daunting word. Some people spend lifetimes discovering it, while others are born with an understanding of it. My identity journey has taken shape in three stages. “Impressionable Identity Suppression”, “Life of a Yes Man”, and the “This is Who I Am” stage. Three very different stages of understanding and acceptance. However those three stages have been pivitol to creating the person I am today. This topic ties in closely with another topic I wrote about- “Create: What it Means to Me”. My youthful life was devoted to my escapism. I shrouded myself in shadows and hid behind larger than life enigmas I created with the tip of a pen. I set up grand expectations for myself to one day be just like the characters I had grown so attached to. Yet, all I did was suppress my own identity by distracting myself with creating others. Creating a new identity each day with a different story and motivation, saved me from dwelling on my abuse and depression that I couldn't understand at a young age. I was simply waiting to be the hero of the day and fall into a story book love. Which really feeds into stage 2 of my identity crisis. I eventually drifted away from story-craft, and focused more on my real life. I became so fixated on story book love however, that the first attention I received a labelled it as such. Sadly my view of relationships had been terribly mis-shapen and I went in with the wrong priorities. Focusing all efforts on the partner, and not trying to shape my own path. My identity became an existence of taking orders. I went to work to build someone else's life. Enrolled in school so I could promise someone else a better future. I lived my life to please, and there was simply no daylight left in a day to make my own decisions. Thankfully, my circumstances changed, and I was finally alone in the real, adult world. I had the chance to be alone with my decisions. I didn't immediately grasp onto finding my identity. Hell, I didn't even know I was missing one. That was until someone finally wanted to get to know me on a deep, philosophical level. I met my now wife. She changed everything about the world I live in. She introduced to me the idea of love as a partnership. I was not prepared for someone to ask me my deep beliefs and life experiences. We sat in the rain, staring at the smoke from a cigarette rise. I was faced with hard hitting questions about my past, and what made me unique. I tried with all of my heart to come up with answers, but when none came I simply broke down crying. I had no idea who I truly was. Our love deepend, and not once did she ever try to mould who I was. She simply taught me to ask myself deeper questions about myself, and now I know the real answers. I am a peaceful, creative soul. My chest houses a heart big enough for everybody, and I want to create something amazing in my time in this world. I am a free, Non-binary person who doesn't need to conform to any handicapping gender denominations. This deep understanding of myself is what was needed to point my life in the right path. I have clear priorities, my own morals and my own Identity. Don't let anybody take that away from you. Thanks for reading. Spread some love today.