This new decade is for me.

I am a bad girl, and I am embracing it unapologetically.

When I think about my childhood, the memories I have of who I was and my personality as a child are very wild.

But before I even continue, let me say this.

In the spirit of accepting who I am, I am not going to be apologetic about the fact that I am beautiful. I am not going to be apologetic about the fact that I have nice hair, and I have always had nice hair.

And how do I know I have nice hair? It is not because I am stamping it myself. I have heard that compliment so many times that I am used to it now. So yes, I will say it.

I have nice, beautiful hair.

It may come off as cocky or arrogant. Deep it! I am not waiting for a third party to confirm it again.

My real hair has always been mistaken for a wig, whether it is long or in a bob. I have kept my hair in a bob for years because long hair makes me feel hot sometimes. And even in that state, I still get the same compliment.

“You have nice hair.”

So yes, I have nice hair.

Now, as a child, because my hair was like that, people always wanted to touch it. They would ask if it was real, if I had added something to it, if it was extensions.

And I hated it.

To me, they were spoiling my hair.

Anytime anybody touched my hair, I would throw myself on the ground and cry. I would scream that they had spoiled my hair.

My parents would have to put me back in the car and take me to the salon again, just for the ladies there to pretend to fix it. Sometimes they would just brush it or touch it up so I could feel like it had gone back to how it was before someone touched it.

And that was enough for me.

I remember my dad would say, “Everybody, move to the side. I want peace. Nobody should touch her hair.”

And I would stand there, frowning, giving side-eye, making it very clear that nobody should try it.

And everybody knew not to touch it.

Honestly, thinking about it now, that must have been a lot for my parents. To have a child with that much personality.

Even when I slept, if I woke up and part of my hair had shifted, it was a problem.

I had this style I loved. I used to call it “down down.” And if any part of it lifted because of how I slept, it was fireworks in the house.

My mum would get tired and discipline me because she felt they needed to get that behaviour out of me.

So, when I realized that reacting like that was not working, I found another method.

I would go into the bathroom, stand in front of the mirror, and pour water on my hair so it would lay flat again.

Sometimes I did this when my mum was not watching, so I would end up getting my school uniform wet.

And my mum… oh my God she would get furious.

To have a child with that much personality is something.

So now, I sit and ask myself, why was I ever trying to fit in?

Because this has always been me.

And somebody will say this is a bad attitude, that I was not trained well.

Shut up!

At least I am not a thief. I do not take what is not mine. I do not wake up spreading gossip or false information about people. I am not a liar and I am not manipulative. That is not my lifestyle. I love those I love very passionately and overall treat people with respect and dignity unless they decide to try the other side of the rope. So, keep me on the happy side of the rope because there is really no in between.

I have lived a responsible life as an adult by the grace of God.

So yes.

This has always been me.

I remember as a child, I was always the one who received the “do not say anything, just sit down, keep quiet, do not ask questions” warning, anytime we went out.

But I asked questions. I said things exactly as I saw them, without sugarcoating.

Because now, getting to know who I am and actually embracing it, I am so happy being a woman in tech. And I cannot stand the concept of pageantry, not even a bit.

The idea of poise feels like my intestines have been tied and I will not be able to take a number 2 for a very long time.

The fact that my speaking and my expressiveness need to be controlled, managed, packaged, and then presented in a certain way tires me out.

This whole concept of eloquence being about how a woman presents herself, how she speaks, and how she carries herself, it tires me out.

I feel like it makes you too careful. It makes you play it safe.

And in moments where you need to be brutal, it is like you have been conditioned not to express yourself that way.

But a good girl never gets the corner office.

Notice how you hardly hear of the concept of eloquence being associated with men?

You have to speak up, or other people will speak for you.

Though I believe there is a right and civilized way to behave and to be put together as an adult (this should not be gender-based at all).

Because who told you, you can go to someone’s home and open their fridge unless they have given you permission?

And who told you, you can go to someone’s home and ask to take things just because you want them?

And who told you it is okay to put a camera in people’s faces without asking them if they are okay with it?

And who told you it is okay to go to people’s homes uninvited?

And who told you it is okay to take your friend’s things and never return them?

Not conforming to poise does not mean being mannerless.

But I will still deviate from poiseness because PLLEEEEAAASEE LEMME BREATHE!

Why are disrespectful and wicked people allowed to express themselves so very easily without any remorse, but I am not allowed to give a response when I want to because ladies do not behave like that. It is my choice to let them go or respond not because I have to conform to some type of social construct because I am a woman and I have to be a lady. And why is that if you say I do not want to be a lady the next option is that you are bush! LEAVE ME THE ***** ALONE!! Because I am well-mannered and not bush.

But if I see that you have bleached and you are trying to be disrespectful, I will just go and buy roasted ripe plantain from the roadside and have it personally delivered to you. Do you get what I’m trying to say?

You saw me minding my business and you thought I was the one to pick on because you have not addressed your insecurities and low self-esteem. Then I can promise you by the time you leave my presence I would have made it worse.

I know some women and men who have mastered the art of social presentation, favourability and preference BUT STILL PICK THEIR NOSES AND ACTUALLY EAT IT!!! THEY EAT BOOGERS FROM THEIR NOSES. Are you a dog because I know it is dogs that go back and eat their vomit.

Gentleman and lady in the day, but would gladly take his/her friend’s stuff and wear them out publicly without prior notice and because you think you carry yourself well or belong in some circles, you can rate people YETTTTTTT you can’t even wear your own stuff and borrow without notice which is indirectly stealing.

I know a person who would borrow his girlfriend’s brother’s at-home clothes and come to work bragging about having access to elitism and how he is a lawyer meanwhile, he was borrowing clothes and used to smear his boogers on the office laptop.  

I know someone who was eating English breakfast ON CREDIIIITTT!!! Till they were barred from eating at Orientale. Messy, messy, messy!

It is always interesting to see people who like to define and set standards live secret lives deviating from it.

And because I know this is how people truly live, by all means, I will deviate.

I will deviate.

And I think I have always been wired that way. It is just that the acceptance had not come yet.

Interestingly, it did not matter how hard or how much I tried not to accept who I am. Who I am kept saying, “baby girl, this is you. Take it or leave it.”

I remember even as a child, I hated Barbie dolls. I hated dolls. We had toys at home, but I would rather play with Legos. I would rather play with the kiddie laptops. Even till today, when I want to get angry for no reason, I look for barbie cartoons to watch and best believe by the first 5 minutes I’m already angry.

Then it got worse when my dad got a PlayStation 2 and there was WrestleMania. Forget it. I was on that machine like crazy.

The Hardy brothers. I think one of them was dating someone called Chyna. That was my life.

If I ever watched cartoons, my interest was hardly in the princess ones. Yes, I watched Cinderella, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, we had all of those. But they were not really my thing.

When what I actually liked was presented to me, I tapped in and locked in. Nothing could take me out of it.

I am one of the biggest Naruto and Boruto fans in Ghana. I watch anime and I read manga.

It has even gotten to a point where I do not wait for the anime anymore. I read the manga.

After Naruto, I spread my wings. I watched Bleach. I watched Fairy Tale. I watched The God of High School, and when the anime stopped, I continued with the manhwa to the very end.

As a child, I always enjoyed action movies. Way more than princess movies.

I have watched Lord of the Rings more times than I can count, and I never get tired. Then The Hobbit came, and I binged that too, over and over again.

Sometimes I will just be sitting in my room and randomly scream, “Gundabad!”

I loved Harry Potter. I love the mystic. I love those worlds.

So no, Miss Finesse is not me.

What the hell was I even doing participating in that?

If I had understood self-acceptance at that time, I would not have taken part in that competition at all. I do not even remember if I volunteered, if I was selected, or if there was no other choice. But what I do know is this, with who I am now, I would not have done it.

Because it is not me.

Even what I did during the competition, sometimes I remember and laugh. Like, what the hell was that?

There was even a part where I completely deviated. I did it the way I understood it. And honestly, that is fine.

Because when we say cutesy-poise, there is not an ounce of that in me.

I will **** you up if you try me.

It is just not within me, and I cannot force it.

I am a baddie, and a baddie is what I am.

I have been bad. BEEN BAD! And now I am embracing it.

When you run away from identity, it does not mean who you are will not show. But when you hug identity, when you fully turn towards it and say, baby girl, I am down for you, it is over.

Game over!

I remember when I was in Holy Child, we had this economics teacher, and God, now that I am older, I can still say with my very big chest that, that man was annoying! And with that same chest, I am sure I can tell it to his face.

Some of the things he said and did to us were so unreasonable. For what?

One incident I remember clearly was in Form 1. We had written something like an interim assessment test; we used to call it a cachet. After the session, he took his papers, and we wanted to leave the class, but he kept dragging it. He would not let us leave.

At that time, Form 1 girls had things to do. I was on the sports team, and we had another very unreasonable coach. I am not about to mince words, because we are not holding brief for people who did nonsense to us.

If you were late for the bus, this man would wait until we got to St. Augustine’s field, break a branch from a tree, and beat you in front of all the boys. I do not know if it was meant to break confidence or what. It was not okay.

So, for me, I needed to get to training. Others needed to get to their duties. Some had to go and scrub and work. Nobody wanted to be late.

We raised our concerns, and because our voices went high, this teacher said we had disrespected him.

In my head, I was like, nobody was shouting at you. Our complaints were legitimate.

But he decided to throw his weight as a teacher and told us to wait in class while he went to get a cane.

Most of my classmates stayed.

I did not.

I picked my bag, used the back door, and left. Because heck no, I am not waiting for you to come and beat me. For what? What did I do?

If I had done something wrong, fair enough. But we did nothing wrong.

So, I left.

A friend followed me, then halfway she felt bad and went back. I told her goodbye. I was not going back.

The next time he came to class, he said anyone who was not there should stand up.

I did not stand.

He asked about three times. I still did not stand.

Some people stood. He punished them by making them sit out of his class for about three weeks.

My classmates asked me why I did not stand.

I told them, what if I do not know I was not there?

They looked at me.

I said yes.

They said you cannot do that.

I said, heck, I am doing it.

Been bad. Been bad. Been bad.

Another time, I had a really bad cold. My nose was running, and I needed to blow it. I did not want to disturb the class, so I asked him if I could step outside and stand by the door.

This man yelled at me to go back and sit down. I was not going anywhere.

I said OKAY.

I went back, sat down, and started blowing my nose in class. Loudly.

I timed it. Every time he started talking, that is when I would blow my nose.

And while I was doing it, I was looking straight into his eyes.

Yes, if you will not let me step out, then you will endure it.

I kept going until I was satisfied.

At some point, he got tired and said, “We will wait for you.”

I still continued.

When I was done, I said, I am done.

Honestly, it would have been easier to just let me stand outside for a minute.

Another time, he told us to kneel on the lawn in front of the chapel because boys from St. Augustine’s were passing and he felt we had misbehaved.

I said, heck no.

Everyone moved out. I walked straight to the infirmary.

I told the nurse I felt like I was about to collapse. They gave me a bed.

I timed it perfectly. Slept through the remaining 30 minutes, slept through break, and slept through his next lesson.

Then I woke up about 10 minutes before the class would end, made sure my face looked like I had just woken up, did not even wash it, and walked back.

He asked me where I went.

I said, I was at the infirmary.

He said, you are not sick.

I said, do you want to speak to the nurse?

He went quiet.

I took my seat.

Been bad. Been bad. Been bad.

Fast forward to when I started working.

I had a manager who treated me very badly. Within two weeks, he had pushed me to the wall.

One day, he frustrated me to the peak of my grace.

I got up and started packing my bag. This was around 1 p.m.

Everyone in the office was asking, where are you going?

I said, I am going home.

They said, that is not how it works.

I said, well, this is how I am doing it.

They said, you cannot do that.

I said, I am doing it.

I did not even let them ask more questions.

I told them clearly, I am not helpless. I am not from a struggling background where I have nowhere to turn. My parents have done too much for me for me to sit here and let anybody make me feel small because I am a beginner.

I am here to add value to my life, not to lose my dignity and confidence.

So, I am going home.

It got intense. The head of operational risk had to take me aside. I was so angry I started crying.

He told me to go and come back the next day.

Out of respect for him, I did.

But within three months, I had resigned.

Been bad. Been bad. Been bad.

And when I say bad, I am not saying I cause trouble for no reason.

I am saying I will not allow you to cause trouble for me.

I give respect where it is due, and to those who want to be respected.

That is it.

And sorry, I am not sorry.

Cheers.

Growing up, I kept hearing that I was too much. I talked too much. I did too much.

So, I learned to shrink. To fit in. To accommodate things I did not like, just to make other people comfortable.

But now, I have reached a point where it is simply, fuck it.

So, what if I am bad? So, what if I am troublesome?

Because most of the time, people call for it.

You are not going to get my heat unless you knock on the door and if you knock, I will answer.

And if being quiet and accepting bad treatment means my happiness is shelved, then get me a taser, fart spray and pepper spray. Full combo into obliteration.

Being tough and assertive, what people call bad, has taken me into more spaces than silence ever could.

And if being a lady means accepting any and everything and taking nonsense, then I am not interested.

If you throw a fist at me, I will carry a table and land it on your head.

I have embraced solitude fully. Not because I do not need people, I do. But I no longer fear losing connections.

In fact, it feels like relief when people say they do not want to deal with me.

Same dear SAME!

I meet you where you meet me. There is no more holding back. No more filtering.

I am not going to be apologetic about my energy anymore.

I am not sorry for who I am.

Good riddance to me if you do not want me.

Thank you.

I have always been that child.

I have always been a bad girl.

And I am not playing it safe again.

30 YEARS AND BADDER THAN EVER! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO ME!

I AM A BAD GIRL AND YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE.

NOTE:

If anyone I have ever known, or will ever know, who has crossed me or is about to cross me, ever feels the need to take any of my posts, my blog, or even this one, and use it to justify their conclusion that I am crazy or difficult, cheers. Go ahead and do it.

I genuinely do not mind. I do not mind at all.

Because the chances that I will come and justify your conclusion are very high.

But here is the point you need to understand.

What you define as crazy is simply the fact that I will not bend to your wickedness, your disrespect, or your nonsense. If that is what makes me crazy, then fine. Cheers.

But also take note.

By virtue of the work I do and the career path I am on, I am learning how to read patterns and see through manipulation.

So, believe this clearly, you will never have one up on me. Not now, not later. You will never.

So go ahead, say what you want. Use whatever you think you have.

I still do not mind.

Because what you are trying to present as evidence is not evidence. It is public. It is me, and

I stand by it.

Cheers.