I see my future...

And it is bright!

There are times we stumble on glimpses of our future; the veil thins, and suddenly, we can see clearly what lies ahead.

I spent the weekend with my dear older aunts. I have not known them for long, but the little I have known has endeared me to them so much. Think posh but humble, educated and grounded, incredibly skilled and knowledgeable, sharp and witty, fashionably grand yet astonishingly simple in their ways—real powerhouses of women.

And it got me thinking how lucky I (we) are.

Every time I see a Nigerian woman of a certain age—the kind who carries her handbag like a shield and her gele like a crown—I feel a sudden, grounding sense of relief. In a world that often tries to tell us we are too much or not enough, these women are the living blueprints of how to exist with an unapologetic flourish.

In honor of International Women’s Day, this is for the Mamas, the Aunties, and the Big Sisters who didn’t just break glass ceilings, they scrubbed the floors, painted the walls, and then bought the whole building.

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Growing up, I watched the older generation of women move through the world like they were choreographing a dance I hadn’t yet learned the steps to. They weren’t just living; they were building cathedrals out of daily life. Now, as I navigate my own path, I realize that these women didn’t just leave a trail for me to follow—they provided the map, the fuel, and the stamina to keep going.

Here is why they are the architects of my hope.

1. The Art of Armor.

I used to think the elaborate gele tying and the perfectly pressed Ankara and Aso Oke fabrics were just about looking good for Sunday service or the next Owanbe. I was wrong. I realized that for these women, presentation is a form of spiritual warfare.

When life threatened to unravel, they didn’t show up looking frayed. They showed up looking “correct.” They taught me that how you carry yourself is the first line of defense against a world that wants to put you in a box. My hope for my future is anchored in this: I know that no matter how chaotic the day gets, I can maintain my poise. My style is my armor, and my confidence is non-negotiable.

Generation Canvas by Peniel Enchill

2. The Multitasking Myth-Busters

We talk about work-life balance like it’s a shiny new startup concept, but I look at the women who came before me and laugh. They were the original CEOs of the household, managing family, finances, extended kin, and careers—all while ensuring the stew didn’t burn.

They treated the household like a high-stakes project management firm. If they could run that much chaos with grace, then my own ambitions, my writing, my studies, and my professional goals don’t feel like too much. They feel like a natural inheritance. I’m not worried about having it all; I’m learning how to orchestrate it all.

3. The Power of the Hmph.

There is a specific sound, isn’t there? The Nigerian “Hmph.” It’s a throat clear that carries the weight of a thousand Ph.D.s. It’s the sound of a woman who has seen enough to know exactly what’s happening, even if she isn’t saying a word.

These women taught me that silence isn’t submission; sometimes, silence is simply a strategy. They showed me that you don’t always need to shout to be heard; you just need to be grounded in your truth. When I feel like my voice is small, I remember that “Hmph.” I remember that a Nigerian woman’s presence takes up space, whether she speaks or not.

4. The Resilience of Joy

The most confusing and beautiful thing about these women? They know how to party.

The same woman who spent the week navigating the pressures of tradition and the economy is the one on the dance floor at the wedding, spraying cash and laughing until her eyes crinkle. They taught me that struggle doesn’t have to be the end of the story. You can carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and still find a way to dance. My future doesn’t have to be perfect to be joyful, and that is a massive relief.

Why I’m Not Afraid

"A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water." — But a Nigerian woman? She’s the one who boiled the water for the tea in the first place.

I am not afraid of the future because I am not walking into it alone. I am walking into it carrying the strength of the women who boiled the water for the tea, the women who ironed the fabric of our culture, and the women who showed me that being a Nigerian woman isn’t about fitting into a mold—it’s about shattering the mold and using the pieces to build something entirely your own.

Happy International Women’s Day to the architects. We are watching, we are learning, and we are ready. Thank you for giving so that we could gain.