Life As I See It, Life As I Carry It – I Got INK’D

16 August 202620

It was my first year in Unilag, aged 16 and excited about my newly found independence.

I was raised by liberal parents, so it wasn’t like a jail break situation.

But there was still a sense of freedom, as it was my first time away from home.

One of the first things I wanted to indulge in was getting a tattoo but I needed my daddy’s approval.

On one of the weekends at home, I brought it up with my him on our routine early morning gist sessions.

While he sat at the table shaving his beard, intermittently sipping on his tea and smoking his cigarette, I said to him

“Daddy mo fẹ ya tattoo” (Daddy I want to get a tattoo)..

He carried on with his shaving, no pause to look at me in shock, no expression of surprise, basically no reaction.

“Ki lo fẹ ya, ibo lo fẹ ya si?” ( What do you want to draw and where do you want to draw it?).

I went on to say I’d like one on my upper arm or on my upper back , that’s where all the cool kids had theirs. I didn’t tell him my left breast was also an option.

I ended by saying I wasn’t sure what I wanted imprinted on my skin.

As a teenager, my dad pretty much allowed me express myself in moderation.

What other parents frowned at, he indulged me with his full chest. He didn’t care about what people will say.

As long as I maintained good grades and I wasn’t a social miscreant, I could color my hair yellow if I wanted to.

He’d say to my mum when she tried to oppose some things, “if she doesn’t do it now, is it in her old age she’d do it?” Or “Let her do it now, she’d get tired of it soon enough”

So, when he spent over an hour that morning explaining to me why he wouldn’t support my getting a tattoo at that age and in that moment, I didn’t argue about it.

His main points were that

I was yielding to peer pressure.
A tattoo is a permanent body mark, what will happen if I decide I no longer want it?
I didn’t have anything significant or specific I wanted to mark on my skin, I was just excited at the idea of having a tattoo.

He said I should give it time and think about it beyond the vanity of getting ink on my skin.

The idea died a natural death and I’m glad I didn’t go ahead with it. I would most likely have tattooed the name of a love interest or Cupid with his bow and arrow, piercing through a big red heart.

Years passed, my dad passed, I would see someone with a tattoo that I liked, every now and then, and I’d toy with the idea of getting one again.

When I first moved to the UK, it came to the forefront of my mind. But I was now conscious of the fact that if I was going to get one, it had to be very significant to me, not just an itch I wanted to scratch.

I was journaling and reflecting on my life journey one day, when it came to me.

My life as I see it, my life as I carry it, my journey, my passion, my roles.

The picture of the design became clear in my head, what I wanted and how I wanted it.

Symbols and names, all significant to who I am.

The core of who Olujare is…

The Rhythm of Life – It started with a heart beat and I was led to the cross.

The cross – Represents my faith. It is my anchor, my salvation, my hiding place, my shield, my hope, my peace, my safest space. It holds me together when everything seems to be falling apart.

The heart – Represents love as my essence, it is the foundation on which I was born and raised, my default.

Life has given me enough reasons to become guarded and cynical.

But I choose to live in love. I know it is worth honouring despite what life throws at me.

Love for myself and love for humanity.

The Shoe – It goes beyond representing my obsession with shoes. It represents my style, it is my way of expressing the bold, free, confident, sexy & powerful woman that I am.

The music symbol – I don’t just consume music, I experience it. Music carries me through each day.

For every season, I have a carefully curated playlist to regulate and centre my central nervous system.

I can’t imagine a life without music.

The pen – Represents my thoughts, opinions and creativity. Whether I’m journaling, writing fiction, drafting a blog post or podcast episode, writing is how I reclaim myself when I feel lost. It is how I make sense of the world around me.

Writing isn’t just a hobby for me, it is therapy through reflection and story telling.

All of these elements existed long before I was exposed to the harsh realities of life.

They have helped me survive and still carry me through with grace.

They will continue to exist as I transition from surviving to fully thriving.

Mofe, Bawo, Moyo – My sons are a major part of my purpose, they are my reasons why and my reasons why not.

I acknowledge them as God’s assignment for me to nurture and raise and give back to the world as wholesome, compassionate, emotionally intelligent, powerful and positively influential men.

And in carrying out this assignment, I am NOT allowed to lose myself.

They deserve a present mother who lives and doesn’t just exist, a mother with an identity, not one who has been erased and become despondent while raising them.