3 letters from 3 women – Abiodun Kuforiji Nkwocha

3 letters from 3 women – Abiodun Kuforiji Nkwocha

LETTER NUMBER 1:

Dear Mrs,
I am who every woman should aspire to be.
Look at me. I am accomplished. I am thriving in a male dominated arena. I have several degrees and recently just bagged another one from Harvard.
I buy everything I need. I have never depended on a man for anything.
I own my house, I bought my very first car with my money and subsequent cars I have used were all paid for by my hard earned money.
I therefore have the right to stand up anywhere and beat my chest and say that I am a woman worthy to be emulated. Any other woman who has not achieved as much as I have or is not on my type of journey does not deserve to be admired or respected.
Yes I am not married or have any children, but any woman with a vagina and a drum of patience and a taste for eating bullshit lying down like a door mat can be married and have children. Not every woman can have a Phd. Not every woman can travel to the number of countries that I have been to. Not every woman knows CEOs and MDs by their first names like I do.newsletter

I participate in policy making that affects millions of people. Saying this is not boasting, but I do have a right to be proud of my contribution to mankind as a thinker, intellectual and successful career person.

Look at my svelte figure… Yes I am close to 40 but can you see how supple my skin is? I eat right, I take care of my skin and I work out.
Your husband salivates after me and your children wish I could be their mother. You see, if I so wished, I could put your children through the best schools in the world. Your husbands want me as a wife because I will not disturb them for 10kobo. I own my journey.
You are despicable, you are dull. You have lost your looks and live on hand outs from your husband. When I am speaking, you should look down in shame. I am a better woman, better at being a woman that you could ever be.
If I so choose, I will have a family on my own terms and you can be rest assured, I will still not be you.
Signed
Ms Smart Feminist-Accomplished.

LETTER NUMBER 2:
Dear Ms,
Yesterday I stood holding my 5month old baby for 4 hours. He was screaming at the top of his voice. He was not ill, refused to suck and refused to sleep. Eventually, I laid him on my knees and rubbed his back, he farted and stopped crying. He then slept off. But it was almost 6am at that point. I slept for 15minutes before the alarm clock went off. I quickly warmed rice I had prepared the previous night and prepared lunch packs for my 7 and 5 year old children. I also prepared one for my husband. I was barely through at 7:30 when my baby started crying again. My husband left with the big kids while I fed my baby and gave him a bath. I had to ignore his cry for attention as I quickly had a bath and prepared his care pack. I opened my provision store late at 9:30a.m.
In between caring for my baby and attending to the few customers that stopped by, I was trying to figure out what dinner would be. I got a call from the school around 1pm; my 5year old daughter was vomiting in school. I closed the shop and went to pick her up with her older brother. I did not want to make two trips to school. Luckily, my baby was tired and had a long nap. It gave me enough time to wash clothes and prepare dinner. I also swept and mopped the house. My girl stopped vomiting but I decided she would stay at home with me the next day. Kids get this 24 hour bugs so I watch before taking them to the hospital.
Ms Smart, I look older than my 36 years, but I forgive myself. I have housed 3 children in my body. I bear stretch marks and a crescent shaped CS scar. It is a small price to pay for contributing to the continuity of humanity.
I do not own houses but I have a home that I work hard to keep alive. I do not know important people but every evening in my home, I have four people that I am important to. You should see my kids kiss away the pain from the finger I half jammed in the door. Or how they crowd the toilet when I am using it because they do not want to be away from me.
I have not travelled the world. My world revolves around me every single day and I would not trade that for sunny days in Zanzibar or Ibiza. When my husband spent a year studying in the UK, I ran the house all by myself. Did the school runs, hospital runs and the house did not collapse. He did very well and I danced alongside him when he got a promotion. That night, he knelt down in front of me and held me close. He said I made it possible because I was capable of standing alone in his absence.
The very moment he could, he changed my car to a better one. It was not a hand out, I had worked very hard so that he could afford to do that.
I do not have to wear Louboutins to feel accomplished. Yesterday, my son whispered in my ear “No one can replace you.” And I would not trade that for all the Ivy League degrees in the whole world.
I do not spend lonely nights hugging cold pillows and wondering if I am liked or if ‘he’ is a gold digger.
If you ever lived one day in my shoes, you would realise that all it takes to travel the world is a passport, visa and money. You would realise that getting degrees are easy when you have all the time in the world to study. If you spent one day in my life, you would realise that no degree prepares you for the craziness that is motherhood. You would realise that there is a reason why I do not look svelte or have supple skin. You would understand that a different way is not necessarily an easier way.
Then you would run back to your house in your BMW and the next time you talk about your accomplishments, you would pause and say some words of respect to women who are equally accomplished in ways that are different from yours.
Signed
Mrs Happy Mother-Wife

p.s Not all men are wife beaters or trolls.

LETTER NUMBER 3:
Dear Ms and Mrs,
I have read your letters and I literally held my sides in laughter. The competition is ridiculous as you are both pitiable. Who wants to study, study, battle with fibroids and office politics and eventually live a lonely bitter life as a professor admired by everyone and envied by no one. Who wants to waste her youth giving birth to one ungrateful child after the other and slaving for a man who eats from her back and yet plunders every willing vagina in sight?
You wave your certificates and marriage at each other hollering and arguing about who is the better woman. Spare us the spittle.
Even though it is hard concentrating on what you guys are saying because my iPhone 7s will not stop buzzing, I have listened to both of you and I am sorry I have to break this to you.
I am the better woman.
You did not even consider me in your bickering but I am not offended. I watch you hold up your noses when you see me.
The slut. The mistress. The side chic. The social climber. The gold digger.
You call me so many names and all soaked with your sneer.
Not that I care in particular.
I do not need your respect or admiration or medals.
I am more woman than you will ever be… combined.
Dear Ms, before you begin to wave your A* WAEC result, I passed mine with flying colours too. My IQ places me in top percentile and if you want my Mensa receipts, I can show you.
I am smarter than you will ever be but I will never work or study the way you do.
Why do I need to clamber all my life to prove to myself and people that I am worth something?
That is so boring and futile.
Why do I need to steadily earn an income and climb the mangy spiral career staircase?
There are a few men that own this world. It only took one of them for me to live in a luxury you cannot even dream of. You are paying off your mortgage gradually, my house was bought in my name.
Money is not worth more because it comes from years of hustling.
A price tag is a price tag. It will respect money no matter who it comes from.
Why spend 18years to have what I got in 2 years?
Please do not brag about your suffer head. It is unbecoming.
And you Mrs, don’t kill me with laughter.
Instituted slavery is that thing you are parading around as marriage.
My boo wants two children from me. I will give him. That will secure my lot in his kingdom.
My motherhood will not be your type of motherhood.
You are disgusting.
You push aside your dreams and feed the dreams of people that will use you and leave you dry.
You think I do not know that you have a Bsc? You sit in that dusty provision store amongst people that did not go beyond primary schools and brag about cleaning vomit and sleepless nights.
I will have an army of staff helping me to raise my children. I will sleep when I need to. How will I stay fabulous if I had to jiggle a baby all night? For the right price, even motherhood can be outsourced. But you can be sure that I will be there to buy ice cream and attend school functions. All it takes for a child to be obsessed with a human is something sweet and attention.
Call me whatever name you want. I am free from your uncelebrated moral prisons.
I have the potential of being a governor’s wife or even a Melania… Do not begin any speech about being a female governor or President Ms Smart. Do not be delusional. Did you see the look on Hillary’s face when she addressed her supporters? Tufiakwa. I will not spend my whole life fighting for people that will push me under the bus for a manly man. Besides, I am not interested in working hard.
Can I also tell you something… come closer
I am also a feminist. I willingly chose to be who I am. That is feminism; knowing what you want and getting it.
Hate me or love me. You cannot ignore me.
Finally, the journey that led Michelle Obama to the White House is different from the one that led Melania to the same White House. The lesson there is very simple. Teach girls to be smart and eloquent like Michelle. Or just be beautiful and marry a billionaire. The end justifies the means. (I promise you that the odds of marrying a billionaire are even slimmer than getting admission into Princeton or Harvard.)
Signed.
Miss First Lady (in waiting)
Or Mrs Dangote (a smile and a wink)

N.B
Dear Sabinews readers, who will break the news to Miss First Lady that rich men always want new toys? That her ‘career’ will die when her beauty fades… certainly not me. I am Mrs Happy, too busy cooking and cleaning.

About The Author

Osigweh Lilian Oluchi is a graduate of the University of Lagos where she obtained a B.A (Hons) in English, Masters in Public and International affairs (MPIA). Currently works with 1stnews as a Database Manager / Writer. [email protected]

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