First, we forgive ourselves. Letter 1 of 25 letters before 25.

I turn 25 in 29 days. Hallelujah! I know why patriarchy hates to see women online. Because of the women online, and my friends on the frontline, I am not afraid to age. With age comes new wisdom, new challenges and new experiences. People say turning twenty-five comes with the frontal lobe. I challenge that. I think the frontal lobe develops when you seek growth, specifically emotional and spiritual growth – pursue yourself they call it. Maybe I’m not afraid of turning twenty-five because I have been morphing, in and out of cocoons. Sometimes a larvae sometimes a butterfly. Also, I don’t care for age, as long as you think twice and kindness is your second name, you’re safe.

Letter 1

You turn Twendie Fae in twenty-nine days, I apologize for doubting your journey, I don’t see the stars yet, I don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, yet, but I imagine some little faith would have gone a long way.

This letter comes after a conversation with Pookie Wookie Bookie Bear (Wairimu) on growing up in matriarchal homes and patriarchal homes not making sense to us. The Grace Cup added some razzle to this by reminding us of the children who grew up with absent dads who kept making excuses for these dads. The conversation started with Useless things I got my child trend on TikTok, which led to us questioning the thought process of men who blame the mother(parent) who stayed. Some claiming their mums were the toxic ones but fail to see their dads as the ones who left them with a “toxic mum”. I’m not saying mums can’t be toxic. The conversation led to kids, back in primary and secondary school creating these often fake scenarios of their perfect families.

I don’t think I made any excuses for my dad’s absence, or rather I don’t remember making an excuse for him. But I did lie to myself that my dad was perfect. I carried the shame of his absence as if it was my fault, I deeply believed it was. Because it’s easier for my brain to believe I wronged him than for me to process being disposable. I mean you’ve seen the poems I write, do I look like I do well with rejection? I don’t fight or anything, but what do you mean I am replaceable?

So, I fixed myself. I read when all I should have done was sleep. I got good grades, I didn’t get any boyfriends, and I was a quiet kid: because parents are tired when they come home from work and all they crave is some peace. So, I contorted myself to fit the idea of a perfect daughter, but even then he didn’t pick me. And I internalized that as a me problem.

Adulthood came and I, ashamed of this version of me, this longing, this burning wound, I tried to look or deny the version of me that saw women doing it. I tried to fit into the patriarchal idea of who a daughter is. Quickly realised I didn’t like how the box fit and I’ve spent ’23 & ’24 making peace with Matriarchy. To this, I would love to apologize to the version of me who spent hours trying to become the best daughter. To the girl who was so ashamed of her father’s absence that she didn’t appreciate her mother’s presence. I apologize to myself for betraying myself. For questioning the god who placed me in this family, for questioning my path, for shouldering what was never my burden, for letting the guilt contort me. It was never my fault, I turned okay, regardless, and that’s something worth celebrating.

So, as I turn Twendie Fae, I want you to know that this is your path. This is your life. Every mistake you make, own it, don’t let it own you, and make peace with it. This section of the wisdom is sponsored by The Grace Cup. When Ebby had her abortion, she owned up and shared her story online. When you own up people have no bargaining power. You remove the shame and the guilt. Your birth father is a deadbeat and you must make peace with that.

So yeah! Sorry for letting you think you were lesser than. You were enough. You were enough as a daughter and he should have fought for you, he didn’t and that’s not your fault. Everything you saw your single mum accomplish taught you to believe that women can and women do. Perhaps your courage your relentless self belief was birthed from this. You never doubted women’s abilities, you always believed women could do everything and anything they wanted. Your absent dad gave you wounds, but the scars remind you to never doubt your resilience and the strength of your mother.

Happy pre-birthday my love! You turn 25 and that’s worth celebrating!

I always wanted to make my birthday a whole month’s affair but my finances said no. But I have a website and a thoughts, so maybe the next 29 days will be spent writing to myself. The title is inspired by Mutcy’s #25na25, which I think represents 25 new experiences at the age of 25( I said my friends are cool).

References:

Useless things I got my child trend

The Grace Cup abortion story