I asked her where she wanna be when 25/She turned around and looked at me and said “alive” – Kanye West (Welcome To The Jungle)

I’ve never forced myself to make a post on here.

Somehow, it always feels natural.

It’s not uncommon for me to remember a past experience or a conversation or just naturally observe something happening around, and put my thoughts to it.

I’m grateful for these opportunities.

But this week has just been too much.

Yesterday, I literally got into a fight with someone after I put up a post on Facebook commemorating Biafra Remembrance Day.

A 22-year-old 100 level student was raped and murdered while reading in a church.

A 12-year-old child was raped by 11 different men.

A 16-year-old secondary school girl was murdered by a Nigerian police officer.

A black man was killed by cops in America. Yet again.

Riots are breaking out in America.

The Anonymous – a group of hacktivists just put out some of the most sickening things I’ve read in my life.

My friend’s brother has been missing since yesterday.

I’ve been sick to my stomach all day long.

I’m here asking myself, what is really going on?

I don’t really want to write anything today because I feel broken.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of being in the minority.

I’m tired of being an Igbo continually marginalized in Nigeria.

I’m tired of being a Nigerian in a world that looks at Nigerians through fraud tinted lenses.

I’m tired of being a part of a world where the police that is meant to serve and protect you will kill you just because you’re young, defenceless or black.

I’m tired of being identified as black or a person of colour in a racist world.

I’m tired of a world where women can’t move around freely without being afraid of being raped.

I’m tired of constantly wondering what it means to be a black woman.

Women are raped in churches, mosques and every single religious meeting place.

Going out every day and coming back home safe every day is underrated.

But it’s worse for a woman.

Women have to constantly be on guard or lookout even when they are at a party or club.

Instead of letting themselves have fun and enjoy, they have to be concerned about their drinks being drugged.

The fact that I’ll have to spend the rest of my life telling my baby sisters to be careful about my fellow men scares the shit out of me.

Society stays constantly pressed about what women wear and issues of decency, yet women get raped whether their bodies are covered or not.

During a robbery, a woman is scared about being robbed and getting raped.

War? Women are raped.

Riots, pogroms and religious fights? Women are raped.

Marriage? Women are raped.

Relationships? Women are raped.

Single? Women are raped.

At school? At work? At parties? At places of worship? At strip clubs?

While walking home? In their houses? At bus stops? At offices?

By their colleagues, relatives, coworkers, spouses, religious leaders, teachers, and all.

After raping them, it’s even more convenient to murder them.

I’m tired of men not actively speaking up of these issues and holding each other accountable.

Because it’s evident women are an endangered species, and it’s time we have this conversation.

Maybe the lyric above doesn’t clearly state what it means to be a woman in 2020.

But women just want to be alive, at least.

And while we let them live, can we also assure of them of the safety of their bodies and minds?

• Life