By Comfort Mussa
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.