In a couple of weeks, I’ll turn XX years old – the age I have permitted some people to drag my introvert ass out to do a scavenger hunt for someone’s son’s mumu button. Until then, I have “single as a pringle” jokes for days and a cheek full of insults for uninvited guests who view my status as a complete paralysis of being (especially as a woman). The thunder that will fire some of you is doing press-up in an Agama lizard’s body at your village.
Following a friend’s advice, I joined a dating app – Hinge, for the past two months. Before I tell you my non-existent romantic escapades, I want to speak face-to-face to friends who recommend dating apps for introverts. First of allll… it is still like being outside with strangers but online. Of course, I have deleted it, not out of success but the annoyance of my experience on the app. The thing is, as an introvert – I am not mad at dating apps the same way I am not mad at outside. However, what irks me is how human beings interact and (mis)behave within my bubble.
Being on a dating app doesn’t remove my hatred for people who start chats with single-word conversation killers. You know how someone will start a conversation with “Hi,” and you’ll return with “Hello” 6hrs later, and they’ll return with “It’s nice to connect with you.” And you’ll say, “Likewise.” Then, another 24hrs have passed, and they’ll return with “How are you doing?” and it goes on and on and on… Or people that just start conversations with “Our wife” or “wifey.” Where are the 60 tubers of yam, life goat with lion whiskers, and 5 eagle feathers that must precede your ownership of me, my lord? It is the audacity and covetousness for meeh! Will you go back to the end of the line and join the queue!
A Review of Tabitha Brown's Feeding the Soul
It is in the middle of 2020, the heat of the pandemic. Everything feels like it is falling apart. You are tired and wondering, “where is God in the face of all these?” You are looking for answers or joy in what other people share on social media (how everyone is trying to remain connected), especially with those trends, dances, and Tik Tok. Everyone is telling you how to make the most of the pandemic, what businesses to do, what’s right, and whatnot. It feels like there are so many answers to questions you have not asked and unending questions with no answers. The thought of what you know and don’t know is exhausting. In the midst of this, you stumble upon Tabitha Brown’s video. She starts with “Hello there. Y’all aright?” and says she understands, and she says she loves you.
Many of us that have stumbled across Tabitha’s platform and eventually become ardent followers of her advice and love know exactly what I am talking about in the first paragraph. That was my introduction to Tabitha Brown before I knew she was vegan and before I met Donna (her hair). Like a baby sucking a thumb persistently, you soak yourself in every video she posts, and you can’t stop asking, “Why does a stranger's voice feel like home and makes me want to cry?” I don’t know if it is her soothing voice or that she always knows the right thing to say every time. Reading this book felt like her sitting with me and speaking to me.
I wish a fear would!
For those of us whose mumu buttons have been donated to bookstores, those us of us who, if left unshackled, will consider spending someone’s child’s inheritance on good books – you’ll understand when I describe the hypnotizing feeling that comes with smelling a new book. Professional Troublemaker smelled like a gad-damn audacity to me.
So, when you get your copy (yes, I made the compulsion that you get yours), before reading, as a safety measure, please ensure you “off your wigs,” protect your edges, remove the fake Gucci glamour you’ve used to cover your shame or fear, and all other valuables. The reason is, with the assistance of our matron saint, Grandma Olufunmilayo Juliana Faloyin, whom this book pays a huge tribute to, aunty Luvvie will drag you and that stinking fear you cling to your chest. Then, when she has thrown you up and down a couple of times, ensuring there is no ounce of the hesitance to be true to yourself or pursue your dreams, she will clothe you with royalty.
Speaking it to the universe, I lowkey fantasize about aunty Luvvie and billionaire Riri dropping a fragrance titled “the Audacity.” So that after dressing every day, I will spray that anointing from my head to toe and say, “I am covered with the massive audacity of an unshackled white man” (which Luvvie explained in the book). Then, with grandma Faloyin’s peppering shakara, seal it with, “no weapon fashioned against me shall prosper in the name of the lord.” If I decide to be humble, in Sarah Jakes Roberts’ voice, I’ll scream, “Today, I wish a fear would!”