Big-hearted. Optimistic. Fiercely protective. A one-of-a-kind model.

Babatunde, o̩mo̩lúwàbí, tí n jókòó laarin àgbàlagbà. A child of noble character who sits among elders. My innocence is my best quality—it shines through genuine kindness and an honest nature.

Growing up, I was always a model of good example to the young lads on my street. “I wish my son were like yours.” “Your son is very gentle.” “He’s as meek as a lamb, very obedient”—they all mumbled to my mum. I remember her smiling like a child on Christmas morning. She was always enamored with a sense of pride whenever such compliments were made, attesting to a job well done in my upbringing.

There’s a part of me that wanted to be rebellious like the other boys. I wanted to be like them, but I guess my Y chromosome wasn’t strong enough to hold its ground. This part stayed abstract to the people who often gave these compliments. People would often make fun of how “gentle” I was, attributing it to a feminine trait. Even those you would have thought knew better were also culpable in this charade.

Dance. I loved to dance when I was younger . I danced beautifully. But I stopped. Growing up in an ignorant society where people called me “Shakira” (because of how well I could dance) or when “Woman Wrapper” became my government name, I lost confidence. Maybe there was a slight chance of being an ambivert, but it was crushed completely. Sometimes, I wonder if I chose to be an introvert just to mask my true self, my subtle humor and wit, or if it was because I had been sidelined and ridiculed as a child because they felt I was a “tough.” Some would say, in a jest-like way, “It’s because he’s the only boy; he has three sisters.” This music isn’t new to my ears anymore.

A child born to the world again, bringing songs of joy. A leader among leaders, honoring mother and father. Babátúndé, who follows in the footsteps of the past. Obedient and respectful.

I wear the garments of masculinity and femininity. I wear them proudly! I always had a sense of care—family, affection. I would often select the clothes my siblings wore; I cared about how they looked, their well-being. Everything. Empathy is the lens through which I view the world.

Lola, my mother’s first child. She alone is worth more than a thousand supporters. She was and still is my biggest cheerleader and defender! If there’s one thing this beautiful woman has taught me, it is the inspiration of uniqueness and staying true to oneself—the original one of a kind.

Oluwakemi, the yin to my yang. Always swift with words and actions. We’re like two peas in a pod. Two sides of the same coin. Complementary and inseparable. The protagonist and antagonist in my life story.

Ayomide, my mother’s last child. Strong-willed and stubborn as a Capricorn. Beautiful, sound, and a straight shooter—ever direct with her words. She was quite the opposite of me—hot-headed.

He who never forgets the ways of his predecessors . A wise elder, strong and capable. Babatunde, may your praise never cease, may it never fade. Amin.

During my secondary school days, I often found myself occupying positions I never sought. For instance, I became the class captain the same day I resumed, even though I was enrolled two weeks late. They already had a class captain. Was it my time in the university? It was our first lecture, and I became the class governor—a position I hadn’t volunteered for. I had leadership qualities. I wasn’t the loud type or the “dictator,” but people always listened when I spoke. Far more or less, I’d likely attribute these qualities to my Zodiac sign—the great Panthera Leo.

Back to this gilded garment that I’m enamored with—the perfect balance of masculinity and femininity. People often sing my praises; they tell me how wonderful and amazing a person I am (a compliment I was no longer a stranger to). It has truly become evident that I am quite sure I’m a good person.

I’d often cast aspersions on these childhood occurrences. But now, I have grown! Those words do not faze me anymore. For if I am attacked when I haven’t done anything to warrant it, I will work myself up into a fury—more than the brute can handle. I have bridged the gap between myself and toxicity. I can't hear the miscreants from their self-loathing cesspool.

Babatunde, oríkì rẹ kò ní tán, kò ní sá. May your praise never cease, may it never fade. May you continue to walk in the blessings of God.

Amen.