By Comfort Mussa

Who am i?

Who am i?

Growing up, i always introduced myself by saying who my parents were.   The question was never who are you? It was always- whose child are you?

I became a woman and the question is, whose wife are you? The question that eliminates room for being a single woman at any point in life. If i had a thousand francs each time someone asked me this question, i would be able to tar the roads to my village

From girl to woman, society never asked me the question ,who are you?              Their questions begged for answers about father & husband, never about me or mother? Who is your mother, a question only asked when i err. I had to be a good daughter and transition to good wife.
Defining myself became an act of rebellion.
Even saying my name  requires more than a sentence. My name is COMFORT MUSSA. Yes just two names.
No,Mussa is not my father’s name.Its not my husband’s. Its my name .            No, its not a male name – its my name.
How many questions must i answer in telling you my name.

Sometimes the best question society should ask a girl is, who are you?
Help them define who they are or they’ll forever be invisible, hidden in the shadows of their fathers and husbands.

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