9th April 2020, I was harassed by 3 male members of the Nigeria Police Force, at just a street after mine. I was on my way to John Jabbowak’s.

The unfortunate Vermin collected my phone, searched, and emptied my bag right in front of a beer depot with thug-like males sitting out front and threatened to take me with them to their “station” if I argued.

On seeing that my phone and bag were “clean”, having nothing to hold against me, they insisted I was a “club girl”, forcing me to admit it. (which I didn’t, by the way)

“Ashawo” “lockdown don spoil market for them, they gats find ways to hustle now” and other misogynistic comments hit my face that evening.

I tried to “defend” my integrity. Stupid? Well, I was pissed. But the fat, ugly one picked an offense and threatened to deal with me.

I am strong willed.Very. probably stubborn too. And I showed the little I could before accepting the fact that I’m female, alone, on Nigerian streets in front on stupid, probably drunk police men with loaded guns and a car.

I was wearing a black T-shirt, a pair of blue jeans and a pair of flip-flops, with a bold Afro. The photo attached was taken that day. (This description is for the animals and rape apologists who bring up the issue of appearance)

I was called an “ashawo and a hustler”. Yes, this very Efe Johnson you hold in high esteem.

The most interesting part?

The tallest and stupid-est one, after the entire fiasco, had the guts to have asked for my phone number. Well, Twisted minded Efe Gave it to him, wishing he had the right number of balls to have called after then. (Now that I think about it, I probably should have given them Papi’s (Elisha Mamman’s) contact, since I have it by heart. Maybe next time)

1. They had my phone, I couldn’t call for help.

2. The animals could have easily driven off with me in their vehicle to God knows where and doing God knows what.

3. I was just a street away, but I live in a very quiet GRA, hardly anyone out on the streets. I prayed a sibling or parent would walk out and meet the scene. But none did.

Was I scared? Lol.

Bruh, I’ve jumped out of a moving vehicle and carried a knife on me for over a year. I no too well Like that but thank God for Jesus.

It wasn’t fear. It was something similar to hatred. It was disgust. I would have spat on at least one of them if I had the liver.

I almost never go out without my earphones, I consider it my “do not disturb” sign but whatever was blown into the air that day worked. My earphones went bad that day.

Well, I got to Jabbowak’s and made his shoulders home for a while.

I was livid. But that’s nothing new. I’ve been livid since I grew breasts and pubic hair.

Livid at that one time.

Livid at Every time before then.

Livid for Every girl child asking “who’s next”

Livid for Tina, Uwai and all the other names that never made the headlines.

And For every hashtag here, and to come.

This is just one of my many untold personal stories, of being female, being female in third world Africa, of the “me too” and “justice for whatever Name pops up next” hashtags we have to deal with.

If you heard it in the news, you probably would question it. But this is Efe Johnson telling you, I have felt it too.

What Uwa felt.

What Tina felt.

Every single one.

I am not a feminist or misandrist.

I am just tired.

Oh! And, I mentioned jumping out of a moving vehicle, yeah?

I wasn’t crazy. I was only trying to escape being kidnapped.

By…

Guess who…

Wait for it…

M-E-N.

Fun Fact: I’ve actually never been to a club before.

I ‘no too chop’ life before finding Jesus. ‘Na just well I no well’. But mental health is gist for another day.

Enough said, Screw Misogyny In all its forms.

Related: Don’t Expect People To Believe In You When You Start – CEO, SAS Kitchen