Daddy’s Money

I used to want a grass-to-grace story so badly. I was afraid that without one, my success wouldn’t be legitimate enough.

I figured that if I lost a lot of people along the way, had several failures and a really hard life, my scars from all these experiences would be my badges of honour when I’m telling my story. A kind of resilient strength everyone would admire.

You see, when you’re not poor, people have a way of watering down your efforts and assuming that EVERYTHING is handed to you on a silver platter. It doesn’t matter how hard you work or how stressful it gets. You’re not poor so your success is no news. It’s a given from day one.

The facts are that yes, people who aren’t poor have a natural advantage in life with regards to opportunities & finance, but no, that’s in no way a 100% guarantee of success. Rich people still fail. Middle-class people still end up wasting their lives. Poor people go on to become some of the most successful people ever.

Things like laziness, complacency, financial illiteracy, misfortune to name a few are all factors that come into play when considering success. But this isn’t a TEDtalk or social studies lesson.

It’s me sharing that I’ve come to the realisation that I don’t have to justify my efforts. My whole life I’ve had my efforts chalked down to my background or my parents’ ability to provide. Never mind that I studied extra or that I had to put in the work to get something I earned, it meant nothing.

Almost all my achievements (mostly academically) have some how directly or indirectly ended up being chalked down to the kind of parents I have. Me getting into law school (by some miracle, I’ll tell the story one day) on merit was discounted and whittled down to ‘probably your dad’s connect.’ Me being suicidal and depressed in my early teens was an experience discarded by some because ‘what could you possibly have to be depressed about.’ I’ve actually been overlooked for scholarship opportunities before even being considered because of my ‘background.’

So twisted as it may seem, slowly I started to welcome, even hope for bad things, rationalising that if I could stomach them and still thrive, then I’d have a seat at the table. If I passed my exams while grieving or had sleepless nights to do some work, then my success would be allowed. I do this thing where I catch myself feeling sad/in pain/stressed and tell myself ‘people have it worse don’t be a spoiled brat.’

But it’s wrong. I’m wrong. Because yes people have it worse but that doesn’t exempt me from going through it too. I shouldn’t be living in fear of what others may think. I shouldn’t be embarrassed by God’s blessings and try to explain them away or mask them with horrible things like death, fear, depression etc.

I didn’t live in the slums or lose my whole family to a fire, but I’ve had my fair share of hard experiences in life and I realise now that I’m allowed to. I realise also that despite what anyone thinks, my success is legitimate so long as I get it the right way and put in all the work and grit I need to.

I may be the only one who goes through this but in case I’m not, I just wanted to let you know that they may think it’s ‘Daddy’s money’, but if you know that it’s a lot more than that, and that God’s hand is always in it no matter what, then that’s what matters.

Because for as long as I live, I will never allow anybody to ascribe to mere man what only God has done for me.

Until Then, Ellipses

Part 5

Mentally, my hair is cut. Every time I look in the mirror, I see everything but the hair on my head. Today is the day, I decided. Well, I actually decided that it’d be yesterday, but my hairdresser was off duty so. Here we are. I don’t feel anything but matter of fact about the impending risk I’m about to take.

I go about my day like normal, do the dishes and then finally, I call my hairdresser. She gives me a time to come. I continue to go about my day in a very routine fashion and then finally, I go say bye to my mum. As expected, she asks what I’m going to do to my hair. I forget my vague well-rehearsed line ‘I’m going to get a haircut’ and say ‘I’m going to cut my hair’ but thankfully she didn’t hear properly, so she said ‘huh’ and then I mumbled something along the lines of a trim. That seemed to suffice.

I had resolved that this time, I wouldn’t tell a soul about my decision. People have a way of getting to you especially when your will isn’t theirs. I took a hat along, just in case I came back looking lost and scary.

My hairdresser downright refused to cut my tresses. ‘No way!’ she said ! ‘Your hair is growing so beautifully, there’s so much more to experiment with!‘ But I was ready for her. After much cajoling and convincing, she gave in. And it’s just as well, because I would’ve caved if she persisted a minute longer. But deep down, I knew if I didn’t leave here with a big chop, I would be unhappy, and I had enough of that to go on to borrow any extra.

Triumphantly I marched downstairs to the barbers shop and as I settled into the chair, my mind flashed back to a conversation I’d had with God earlier that day;

‘so God, should I do it?’

‘I haven’t asked you to’

‘Oh. So I shouldn’t do it??’

‘It doesn’t matter whether you cut it or not. If you’re asking whether or not you’ll look good, you will. But whatever your hair looks like, it’s your heart I want to work on’

‘Well. That escalated quickly. But thanks for the vote of confidence’

I checked my internal radar now to see if I felt any hesitance or discomfort. Nothing. I actually felt peace. I was really about to do this. I wasn’t nervous one time, not even at the point when the buzzing of the razor droned in my ear. If anything, I was excited !

And now it’s done. I have little hair on my head. I keep stealing glances in any mirror I pass by because a part of me can’t believe I actually did it. My hairline is still desperately in need of a miracle, but it’s not as conspicuous as before.

I’m happy. Truly. I feel comfortable in my skin. But I know this is just the beginning. I feel like now here’s the raw material God, work with it. I feel like I’m starting from scratch. And I can’t wait to get to the finish line.

But until then, ellipses.