Wearing the Jacket of a Nigerian Man That Doesn’t Fit

If being a Nigerian man were a jacket;

Mine would be two sizes too small, with pockets full of unpaid bills and sleeves stitched with “be strong” reminders.

And no, there’s no refund or exchange. So here’s me, trying to wear it anyway, without looking like I’m about to burst at the seams.

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The Jacket

It’s not that the jacket is ugly.
It just wasn’t made for me.

The shoulders are too wide,
They are meant to carry responsibilities for which I didn’t volunteer.

Be the provider.
Be the rock.
Be emotionally bulletproof.

No manual included. Just expectations stitched into every seam.

They handed it to me young,
before I even understood what it means to feel.

You grow into it because you’re told to.
You learn to adjust.
You learn to sweat quietly underneath.

The Man I Used to Be

Once upon a Uni campus,
I was the fun guy. The sharp guy. The one everyone knew.
I made people laugh, threw parties, and talked…