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Forged Words.

The Nigerian Woman’s Guide to Preventing Assault

Don’t go out. Spend your days at home, with family. Go out because like charity, assault begins at home. Wear jeans. It will make it hard for anyone to get through. Don’t wear jeans, it’ll outline your figure. Wear a... Continue Reading →

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(un)safe spaces 

Home. The space between your thighs grow warm, as you feel fingers tracing up your thighs. Your heart is racing as you turn to see who these fingers belong to. You find big black eyes, filled with hunger, staring at... Continue Reading →

Light Notes. 

Where you are right now, isn't where you'll always be. This pain, will fade. The inability to get through this, is an illusion because you will. The idea that you are not enough, is false, because darling, you are more... Continue Reading →

Remember, Always. 

08/03/2015 Sunshine, I'm writing this to you because I know that there will come a time, when it will become too much, when it will hurt everywhere and you will feel unable, unable to wake up and face another day... Continue Reading →

Our Wounds Are Still Healing

My mother never speaks of the war. Every time it comes up, all we manage to get through are few words, emotional sighs and a “may we never live through such again”. I remember how eager I was to watch... Continue Reading →

For The Hands That Hold Me

There will be mornings when I will struggle to get out of bed and I will question my existence. I will try to get up but I will fall over and over again. Please pull me up, do not let... Continue Reading →

 Before You Touch Her. 

A woman is not written in Braille, you don't have to touch her to know her - Joniada Estrada Gonzalez You will take off her clothes, piece after piece, leaving a puddle at her feet till she is standing before... Continue Reading →

A Love Like Ours – Ona Akinde

I write about our love, bearing in mind that these words I write, never seem enough to properly describe this love that we have. http://thoughtsofamedstudent.com/2016/02/19/a-love-like-ours-ona-akinde/

Somadina. 

Ji sike.  That was how we ended our conversations, my mother and I. A reminder that I had to be strong, always. It so happens that we will never understand some experiences that we have until they become memories. At... Continue Reading →

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