Gramma's Girl

Reflections of a self-proclaimed (with loads of evidence) favorite grandchild.

Not sure if my mother would ever go on record saying this but, I was her “problem” child growing up. Do not get me wrong, I’m Nigerian, my parents did not (and still do not) play so I mean “problem” very lightly.

You see, my mother is a very classic lady. She loves to shop and get dressed and put that shit on. If you know my mother, you know she has 6 kids and can get away with looking like our older sister at times LOL. All that being said, the “problem” was of the 4 girls, I was the “tomboy". (I’m not sure if tomboy is a phrase that is still appropriate but I’m always open to guidance).

Now, I was the type of girl who had no problem getting a little dirty. Running, playing, jumping off of things. As an adult, now I know I have ADHD, but when I was a child my parents would be up in arms referring to me as a busy body, a ruffian if you will. I truly didn’t understand where in the world I came from. My sisters all would leave their hair nice and neat for picture day. My mom would borderline beg me not to play too rough and I’d agree, fully knowing that once I stepped my baby toe on that school bus, I was brushing my big ass bang backward with my fingers because anything looking too polished or too cutesy was so annoying to me. Where TF did I come from, a family full of girls and one ruffian.

Like I mentioned, I’m Nigerian, and most of my family, (my aunts and uncles especially on my mother’s side) were still in Nigeria while I was growing up. In the 90s and early in the 2000s as well, to communicate with those family members overseas, my mom used to send letters and photographs. It wouldn’t be rare that we would see a slightly distressed envelop in the mail with handwriting that looked so similar to that of our parents. We would know, “there’s a letter from Nigeria!” without understanding the gravity of living on a different continent than your family. One day my mom received a letter from my grandmother with a photo in it.

For me, up until this point, I struggled with feeling like a woman. My examples of womanhood were always so poised, polished, primped, and as a not-so-girly girl, I didn’t really see my place. For a long time, my parents only had daughters and there seemed to be a constant level of annoyance that I would not comply with the vision lol. I wondered, did God put me in my family by accident because I just don’t seem to…fit.

My grandma (who I actually refer to as Gramma) worked in the civil service in Nigeria. The picture in the envelope was my smooth skinned, just under 5-foot-tall Gramma with her uniform and a rifle posed next to her that was almost equal to her in height. She didn’t smile, she just stood, serious, strong, authoritative. If you asked me then, she looked like the type to get STRAIGHT to it if someone crossed her. I reveled in it, and quickly understood a woman could be a different kind of beautiful.

I marveled at the picture and asked my very girly and dainty mom, “Mom, is this YOUR mother?!” She responded, “yes, this is your grandma in Nigeria.” I rebutted, “Yes, this is obviously MY grandma but my question is this YOUR mom?!?!”

I was both shocked and assured, I DO belong in this family and every bit of fiery gangster I feel on the inside is now validated by the existence of my Gramma, a gangster in her very own right. A mother of 7, left a toxic marriage in a time where that’s just not what was done, made a life for herself and traveled up the ranks until her retirement. Gramma isn’t the type to stay down for long at all, and I recognize that fire in myself today.

I physically met my grandma at 16 the first time. She came to live in the US shortly after that by the time I had gone to college. I always came home to see Gramma. We had grown up with our father’s mother (who we called Mama) in close proximity to us, but our mom’s family had primarily been overseas during our childhood. My Gramma was fascinated by me, she loved my body and how authoritative I seemed standing at 5’8” and over 200 pounds. She never made me feel fat, I just felt powerful. She was astounded that I could braid my sisters’ hair like a hairdresser and she’d tell my mom, “WOW, look at what Irene can do!” She’d hear me sing the songs my mom used to sing and it used to bring her to tears that we, growing up in the United States, could still mimic their native language (Efik) and those sounds felt like home to us. Shoot she even said one time that “this lady (Whitney Houston) can sing like Irene.” (we know she took it too far but my Gramma is my entire gas team forever and ever!)

When I reflect on my relationship with my Gramma, I feel so protected from the parts of society that didn’t see someone like me as “pretty” or “poised” or “dainty” enough to be a woman. Everything about me that felt clunky or too big or loud or boisterous was something my grandma reveled in. She loved to hear me coming with all my noise. She loved watching me direct my siblings. She loved riding in a car that I owned to go to church. She loved watching me cook in the kitchen and thought I cooked like a chef (she lowkey used to play my older sister and act like she was starving until I came to cook LMAO a troll). When I think about someone loving me for just being exactly who I was, I think of her FIRST. The best part is that she was always letting me know. I think that’s the part we miss in love sometimes, letting someone know that we appreciate them out loud.

It means everything to me to have my grandmother’s praise and approval. Knowing that when she looked at me (and I’m sure her other grandkids but this isn’t about them LOL) she felt like all her struggles, netted out to something amazing. It means everything to know that these are the things she prayed for quietly and she came to realize them just as God promised. When I look at her life, the parts that I know, I can understand why she felt so blessed.

In my life, I want to reach for joy in the way that she does, I want to rely on God and believe that the things I need are coming, I want to revel in the very ordinary, normal things about the people I love. It matters so much. Having my Gramma’s love is something that strengthens my spine. I live everyday with the confidence and the evidence that I am my ancestor’s wildest dream and that will do it for me in this life, and every lifetime that follows.

All Glory to God for putting this woman in my life and putting my in her lineage. I’m honored. <3