ROSES ARE RED, PAIN IS BLACK (Part 3)
Previously on PAIN IS BLACK…
*
2014 came around. Before I gained admission, I insisted on finding some occupation instead of just lying about at home. I wanted to work as a computer operator. Mother didn’t like the idea of me working but I didn’t care. I’d always liked the idea of being financially independent.
One day, I closed work early and I was walking to the bus stop with Beyoncé blasting away through my headset, to get cut off with a call from Mother.
I answered. “Hello, good afternoon, ma.”
“You and your headsets,” she said. “Biko turn around osiso.”
I turned and there she was in a car with this light-skinned, good-looking man with a nice sense of fashion. She was beckoning on me to join them. Introductions were made and the man drove off. As he drove, he wouldn’t stop staring at me through the rear view mirror. Small talks were made ranging from my aspirations to my school of choice and all that, and soon, he was dropping us off at home.
Weekend came around and Mother said we were going to Onitsha to meet the man.
“That the man is a powerful man of God who decided to serve God through the native way,” she said.
I sighed, already feeling exhausted. Weren’t we done with this? And what did she mean by a man of God who had chosen to serve God in a native way? What did that mean?
We got to our destination in Onitsha and we were asked to leave our foot-wears at the door. From past experiences, I was braced to behold hideous carvings in the house, but all I saw was a heavily furnished apartment. In my mind, I was like, ‘Uhm, native man of God, where are the feathers, blood and stinky room?’
The man received us, and after some small talk, he asked my mother to excuse us. Alone with him, he went on and on about how he saw a prophecy of me and my strange sexual preference.
I was starting to develop my sass and at this point, I rolled my eyes inwardly like, ‘Bitch please, I know that prophecy is actually my mother telling you things about me. So how about we hurry this charade along.’
He said he wasn’t here to judge me but to help me so that I’d be able to marry and have children of my own. Then he brought out a chick and an egg and instructed me to strip. In my mind, I was like, ‘Aha! Here we go again.’ I was soon naked in front of him, and he began muttering incantations before he proceeded to strike different parts of my body with the chicken.
Man of God indeed!
When he was done with that, he broke the legs of the chicken, dropped the tortured bird on the floor and began rubbing every inch of my body with the egg. He gave me something to drink and shower with for a week.
Man of God who has chosen to serve God in the native way – Odiegwu!
My turning point came in late 2014 when a friend introduced me to Kito Diaries. It took me a little over a week to read all the posts that’d already been published – an experience that released something in me. I got to see that I was so many things but “alone” wasn’t one of them. With each post I read and each interaction I observed on here, I began to find my voice and began to draw the strength I needed to resist my family’s need to push me into the closet. I began to resist being intimidated by the homophobia my siblings spewed all over the house. Every time my brothers started with their homophobic nonsense, I would retire to my room. I got the feeling they sneak after me to see if I was breaking down or crying over their behaviour; instead what I’d be found doing in my room was twerking to Beyoncé or Nicki Minaj. Instead of observing me OD on pills, they saw me smashing my UTME and sauntering off to school in my imaginary Alexander McQueen.
I was owning my homosexuality and loving it.
After about a year, my family began to change as well. My siblings used to be all about “If I’m president, my first order of business would be to kill all homosexuals by hanging” and “If I was the president of America, I would give all these homosexuals an island of their own so they don’t come in contact with us, then when they think they are free and safe, I will nuke their abominable asses.”
And then, they were all about “Well, I don’t care if they decide to fuck asses, as long as they don’t hit on me” and “Enyi, this one you’re getting dressed, did your sugar daddy call you to start coming?”
It started with my sister. One day, my eldest brother yelled at her over the fact that she doesn’t cook, conveniently forgetting that she is asthmatic and so cannot be in the kitchen when meals are getting fried. When Mother was brought into the matter, she wasn’t exactly on my sister’s side, because my mother always, always, sides with my eldest brother. My brother berated my sister, saying she was practising the “whole feminist nonsense” she watched on television.
I came into her bedroom where she was crying after the altercation, and she started telling me everything that happened, how she couldn’t believe our brother could be that mean and inconsiderate, and how she was hurt that Mother, who she was close to, hadn’t been on her side.
I love my sister very much, but I didn’t break down into tears in that moment because of her pain, but because she was complaining about the exact same unfairness over which I’d cried myself to sleep countless number of times in the past. I pointed out these issues to her, and we cried together and talked. I confessed to her that I’d hated myself and cried to God or anything out there that would listen to change me or kill me and get it over with. But nothing worked. I did those first fasts of 2012/13 diligently, hoping God would see my perseverance and change me. But nothing happened. I told her I didn’t choose to be this way that everybody hated, and I’d tried but couldn’t change it. So I’d made a vow to never try to hurt myself or lose myself simply because I was trying to be who others wanted me to be.
After that night, we bonded like never before, probably because she’d finally felt the scourge of what it feels like to be the minority in our family.
My immediate elder brother was next.
I don’t exactly know how it happened, but the day I first felt his change of attitude was after a neighbour said with a snigger something derisive about me being gay. My brother was within earshot of the neighbour and heard what he said. And something snapped in him. Maybe he felt no one had the right to disrespect me like that except family. Maybe he suddenly saw himself mirrored in this neighbour and finally heard his homophobia from the mouth of the neighbour, and he didn’t like what he saw or heard. Whatever it was, it got him so pissed, he turned on the neighbour and nearly beat him to shit.
After that day, his attitude toward me softened drastically. He got so accepting of me, that he’d call me “bitch” whenever he was feeling playful or occasionally ask me if it was doggy style or missionary that my sugar daddy preferred.
The firstborn is still quite homophobic, but not as vocal as he used to be, seeing as he’d lost all of our siblings to their support and acceptance of me. I also eventually came out to my younger brother and we’ve gone on to become BFFs and selfie twinnies like never before.
And Mother… Well, she also turned around.
After she noticed my love for Beyoncé and twerking, weeks after that chicken-beating, egg-rubbing trip to Onitsha, she called me to her to speak to me. There was a resigned attitude to her as she began to tell me that the main thing was for me to be responsible and not be like the boys her colleagues would always talk about who hopped around from club to club. She said that a good reputation was important, whoever I decided I wanted to be. Then she moved on to telling me to “just stick with one guy. That way, you can plead your case with God on the judgment day that you did what you did for love, because God is for love. And please endeavour to prevent contracting any of these STDs they say is prevalent with gay men.”
I was speechless as I listened to my mother, feeling tears fighting furiously to drop from my eyes. I simply knew she couldn’t have come this far in her acceptance on her own; she had to have been doing some online reading about homosexuality, because she is the type that always run off to Google to ask questions.
Then one day after that talk, I had someplace to be, and so I was putting together what to wear. She walked into the room and asked me where I was going. I told her I wanted to go see just a friend. She saw me wearing red panties and said, “This kind of friend you are going to see wearing red panties. Hmm, okay o.”
As it is now, things have come full cycle and everything is okay on the home front. Yes, I’d still piss on Prince Frank Izuchukwu’s grave and take a selfie with his corpse the day the bastard keels over and dies. But I’m grateful for his despicable act, because in a way, even though the journey was long, hard and tedious, he was the catalyst that brought my family and I closer under the light of my truth.
On another note, did I mention that my mother got me pink shorts – very short shorts – and a shiny purple lip gloss as something for the Christmas last year?
THE END
Written by Façade
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31 Comments
Quinn
March 23, 08:21What a journey… Your story has made me to realize certain things that I’d rather not mention here, I’m very happy for you, and so sorry about all the horrible things you went through, I’m sure some people would not have made it alive. Finally, to thank Pinky for putting up this blog that has really touched so many lives…would love to hear about how this blog came to be though. ?
kingb
March 23, 08:53what a story indeed! Thanks to pinky for Kitodiaries. My road to acceptance started here too. went through hell at home too. someday I’ll send in my story too.
Black Dynasty
March 23, 08:55It pained me reading through part 2 but I’m happy it’s ended well. Hopefully you haven’t been spiritually hurt after the encounters with those juju guys. It’s interesting the lengths people are willing to go thanks to ignorance.
I admire your resilience, takes a person with a strong spirit not to completely give up after going through all that. It’s hard enough coming to terms with it by yourself. Wishing you happiness all the way.
Tangie Bloom
March 23, 08:56Everyone has their own journeys and I’m glad you’ve finally found some peace with your family.
What I’ve learned is to never accept half-arsed tolerance from anyone, not even family. Your mother really has come a very long way and I’m so proud of her. I wish my mother could speak to someone like her. Sigh.
Goodluck being you and living your ultimate truth. Rooting for you, brother xx
Mandy
March 23, 09:00“That way, you can plead your case with God on the judgment day that you did what you did for love, because God is for love.”
???????
Your mother is such a devout Christian sha. No amount of acceptance will make her give up her determination for you to make heaven.
Finally I’m so happy for you. Your strength and resilience is an inspiration for us all.
Malik
March 23, 11:12???? Through it all, sha make heaven. That’s the sole purpose of man.
Kenny
March 23, 09:01Happy for you man. Good luck on the rest of your journey.
Vince
March 23, 09:11Yeah, me too.
Dunder
March 23, 09:54Wow! The rare happy ending. I’m so glad things turned around slowly, painfully but surely. I’m happy you are still here to enjoy this acceptance and love from the home front. I am sure your resilience and acceptance of your own self is what confounded everyone to do their research.
You see that Izuchukwu bastard that was trying to spread his self-hate, fear and rabid case of Motherfuckemia about the place? I’m sure he is still hoping from closet to cupboard, torturing the young, scared and desperate- but look now, sunlight is the best disinfectant. What he did not seek out for himself, you have built for your own self.
Pinky, do you see how you are saving lives? You and everyone who has penned something or contributed in any way towards building this online community. It has given scores of us permission to raise our hands in class and state our existence.
Malik
March 23, 11:14RT!!!! Pinky, saving my life since 2016.
QuietSprite
March 23, 09:57I’m so happy for you, your story gives hope to so many who can’t still see the light at the end of the tunnel. Y
ii
March 23, 10:08?????❤️❤️
trystham
March 23, 10:44I wouldn’t want to rehash old topics and all that shii, but we still have to talk about that minced-blade meal u were served. Perforated guts and all in future please. Your mum MUST know what u went through. Let them not comman be blaming bloody stool on your homosexuality and the BBC u have taken up the arse
Kenny
March 23, 11:18Sebi…. I’m glad he’s been accepted and all but they should have a conversation about the ‘abuse’ he went through.
Manach
March 23, 13:17The stomach digest even blades,I believe
trystham
March 23, 21:28Yeah. Years and years later. Not before the damage has been done
Tobby
March 23, 11:12Oh look – the proverbial light at the end of a tunnel
Malik
March 23, 11:18This part almost made me cry. What a story! Wow!
Oludayo
March 23, 11:18Mhen people should share their KD intervention. I found this blog via someone’s recommendation on grindr and it’s been one of the biggest steps to accepting and understanding myself
Facade, I am delighted to hear your folks now affirm you
Houston Scholar
March 23, 12:32Deep Sigh! Thank you for sharing and best wishes for the sojourn ahead. Pink Panther E se gidi gidi gan. You will be surprised how you have successfully created a virtual support system with this blog for all of us across the globe.
lotanna
March 23, 13:07Wow..A happy ending.I am happy that things turned out fine at the end of the day.
I must also thank PP for this platform I discovered early 2016.This platform shaped me as a young,naive,gay Nigerian that was just new into adulthood.
Thank you Pink panther.
Thanks Façade for sharing your story.
Hapiey
March 23, 15:17I literally dropped a tear on your story… And then some Yassssssssss Gurl towards the end. Bless you child, bless you
Pink! have you considered an advert on IG and other platforms Cus this gospel according to pink panther has to find it was to the faces of mere men
Q
March 23, 16:00“The problem with stereotypes is not that they are wrong but rather incomplete”
Thank God it all turned out well, what a journey
Canis VY Majoris
March 23, 16:51Congratulations. You’re in the promise land, maybe we’d be joining you there or maybe not.
Some of us are destined to die in a foreign land.
Simba
March 23, 17:14Merci… Thanks for sharing.
Can we all say thanks to Pinky and kitodiaries.
Ogb
March 23, 22:12You’re such a strong person, most people wouldn’t have survived that. I’m glad everything turned out well.
Kitodiaries saving lives since 1900
mikkiyfab
March 23, 22:29Wow that’s just all I have to say a big wow and sister gurl own it. it who u are. U see that pink short abegi wear it well it’s urs to keep and please that purple lip gloss u would borrow me I have a party to attend
Dear, there is nothing to say but thanks for sharing such a beautiful story on this platform.
O'pal
March 23, 23:24Am I the only one who felt the cute “traditional man of God” was gay? Lol
Sucrescalada
March 24, 22:33Pls who wrote this story… Can we be friends… I relate and connect to u in so many ways… Pls @pinkpanter.. I wanna be friends with this individual
RiddleMe |As-I-Am
March 25, 04:07Kitidiaries is too hidden. We need more publicity. We could help save lives. I merely stumbled on it from Nostrings, another Naija Lgbt blog.
Blemish
April 08, 02:12Don’t think I’ve ever commented on KD but I had to this time.
Rape, physical and emotional abuse, hypocritical Christians, herbalist all in one fell swoop.
I’m glad you found your happy ending Facade, or at least moving towards your happy ending. All that abuse takes time to heal I’m sure, wishing you great success with the rest of your journey.
Also I hope we will get another piece on this Frank individual, maybe a phone number, a picture, a description, literally anything that can help to identify that rapist. Unless he’s dead, he’s probably still out there victimising young boys – would be great to expose him for the vile creature that he is.