One long look at him and all I could think of was his mother. I wondered what she would feel like seeing her son apply so much lipgloss to his lips and lining his eyes with eyeliner as if he were a girl. On some days he even wore a short flay skirt on his trousers and a hair bonnet. It was always a pathetic view to behold.
Source
Since I didn't talk to my neighbors, it was easy for me to avoid him. We exchanged pleasantries when it was necessary but aside from that, we didn't say a word to each other.
My friends who came to my house nicknamed him “black princess” because he was dark and tall, someone who should have been every lady's spec according to my best friend.
It had already been 3 weeks since the transformer in our estate became faulty and we had to pay weekly contributions of 500 naira to the caretaker so he could buy fuel and pump water for the entire compound.
That afternoon, I was sitting outside my apartment weaving my best friend's hair when someone walked up to us.
“Favour, your name is Favour, right?”
I was tempted to ignore him but there was obviously no one else in the vicinity so I had to give a response.
“That would be my roommate”
He thought for a while before deciding to forget about addressing me by my name.
“Anyway, this week's contribution for fuel goes to me so get my account number”
I handed my phone to him so he could input his details then got it back and stored it as a contact.
“So you can weave hair?” He asked after a while. I turned back and nodded when I saw he was the one. “That's a relief. I've been looking for where I can make my hair without getting discriminated against, you know. These salons are just unserious…..”
“So what made you think she will not discriminate against you?” The words were out of my friend's mouth before I could stop her. I turned to him and gave an apologetic smile especially because he looked like someone who just received a hard slap.
“Oh well,” he rose, patting dust off the behind of his shorts. “It's okay if you won't do it for me, I receive that a lot,” he said and walked away.
I dragged my friend's hair immediately after he left.
“Why is your mouth faster than your shadow? You didn't have to say that to him” She sniggered
“There's no way I'm letting you weave hair for that person who doesn't know his gender. What does he mean by salons discriminate? If he were the one who ran a salon and a supposed guy waltzed in with a short flay skirt would he attend to the person? Because I'm sure he wore one of those pink princess skirts and they had no choice but to fling him out of their premises”
By this time, even I was laughing uncontrollably. My best friend was one of the most dramatic people that existed in my life and I didn't fail to remind her every time she did something spectacular.
“You're a clown. You would have just let me politely refuse”
She shook her head causing the braid I was trying to fix to come completely loose.
“That guy was neither born nor raised that way. I wonder what happened and where he picked such a dirty character from”
I thought long and hard about it. My friend was totally correct. He couldn't possibly have been born or raised that way. I remembered seeing his older brother assisting him to heft his heavy stuff when he first moved into the house and that one was as masculine as guys could come. On that day, my neighbor was well dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
He only started dressing awkwardly when he was completely settled in.
“Still you were too harsh, what if it were your child?” She didn't let me say anything else, she just jumped up immediately and began to make wild gesticulations. I couldn't help laughing until my sides began to ache.
“Which child? That is the one I carried for 9 months and raised as a boy child now grew up and decided that he would be or dress like a lady, no o.”
She was pacing energetically now, “By the time I take him to one or two white garments prophets and they beat the evil spirit out of him, chai, he will regain his masculinity”
When I was finally able to catch my breath from laughing so hard, I dragged her back to the chair so I could finish up with her braids.
“I wasn't joking madam. I mean what would you really do?”
“Did I sound like I was joking? Ha!” She leaped up again, “I'll pray you into your senses o. No jokes!”
I laughed some more then dragged her back to continue her hair.
“I don't think I would do that though. I would try to reflect on what I did wrongly because a child cannot just wake up and make a decision without influencing factors. Maybe I overlooked something, maybe he got associated with the wrong people without my knowledge, I would first find out the challenge before knowing the right way to tackle it”
My best friend scoffed at my suggestion but said nothing. Since I didn't have a child of my own, I couldn't possibly know what I would do if ever found in such a situation but I knew one thing, I would want to know the problem, what led to what, before any other thing.
That white garment got me laughing😂😂. C'mon, they would beat those wring desires out and implant new and better ones.
Right!.... the change would have been influenced by somethings, maybe friends, exposure or experiences.
You're spot on about influences shaping change; friends, exposure, and experiences can definitely play a big role in how people express themselves. Thank you for reading
You are welcome Iskawrites.
very well said, finding the root cause of the problem could help you deal with the situation. Your friend didn't want to hear anything😂 The boy should just leave😂😂
But she asked a funny question oo
Like putting myself in the picture, a guy entered my salon with short flay skirt.. What the hellllll😂😂 I will continue to giggle until that boy-girl leaves😂😂
Lol..you and my friend should be put in the same room because you are alike...hahahahah
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I like the way how you describe gender disclination, which is happening now a days on peak. we are all same and no one is anyone. we should stop judging people on the basis of their gender.
You are right judging others based on their choice of gender only perpetuates harmful stereotypes.
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