Story time, not for applause, but for clarity.
There have been many misconceptions about my family, and I feel it is important to speak from truth, from memory, and from lived experience.
My mother spent her early years in Lagos State, growing up in Ikoyi and speaking fluent Yoruba. Her upbringing was shaped by a deeply rooted and expansive legacy. My grandfather, her father, served in the federal government in Lagos and worked closely with British officials at the time. He was a respected kingmaker who crowned kings across Nigeria, not confined to one region. My grandmother was a successful businesswoman, disciplined and accomplished in her own right.
I also come from a long line of independent, wealthy women who traded across states, building their own networks, sustaining families, and creating value long before it became something to be applauded. Enterprise, strength, and self reliance have always been part of my lineage.
My grandfather lived and worked across all six geopolitical zones of Nigeria, leading in every institution he served. Before him, his own father held a position of immense trust as the storekeeper of the royal palace in Katsina, safeguarding the valuables of the Emir.
Education and exposure defined my grandfather’s life. He attended Oxford University at a time when very few Africans had such an opportunity. He lived in the United Kingdom for years and, at one point, hosted the Queen in his home in Ikoyi. His home welcomed dignitaries and prominent figures, yet he remained grounded. He served Nigeria with dignity until retirement. He was not driven by wealth, but by responsibility, integrity, and the belief that education was everything.
He ensured his children, especially his daughters, were educated and independent. Many of them moved to the United States at a young age, building their own lives. He was open minded, allowing my mother to explore different religions and ideas. He believed in knowledge, not limitation.
I remember him as a man of presence and depth. He loved to dance. As a child, I would walk behind him during his morning walks, feeling like I was walking beside wisdom itself.
On both sides, my lineage is deeply connected. My maternal and paternal grandfathers were best friends, and that bond led to the marriage of my parents.
Their love was powerful and visible. In Arewa at the time, people talked about them because they held hands openly and were inseparable. It was a love that did not hide.
But life is layered.
My father married another woman, my stepmother, whom I respect deeply, and I love my siblings. However, that decision broke a sacred agreement. My parents had entered a union built on a commitment to one another, witnessed by their fathers and by God. When that was broken, my mother chose to leave.
She remained in Katsina, navigating a difficult season. At a point, I stayed with my grandmother while my mother rebuilt herself. She moved to Gwagwalada, where she taught at the teaching hospital. Not long after, I joined her there and began school.
In 1993, we moved to Abuja. My mother worked as a midwife under the PTF as a civil servant. With very little, she gave us access to the best education she could afford. Somehow, provision always came. Grace always met effort.
Later, she moved to the United States to study and work, and eventually we joined her. Our lives became a blend of continents, cultures, and constant movement. Over time, she returned to Nigeria, but I continued my journey across different parts of the world for my education.
My mother’s journey did not stop there. She went on to retire from the United Nations, where she advised 23 countries across Eastern and Southern Africa. Her work in the United States was equally exceptional, advocating for the rights of women and girls and standing firmly in the space of justice and dignity.
To attempt to take away my rights or to oppress me in any form is not just an attack on me, it is a direct disregard for her life’s work. She has dedicated herself to protecting and advancing the rights of women and girls, and that legacy lives through me.
Even in retirement, she continues to serve as a consultant for international organizations, still leading, still guiding, still shaping impact. She began working at the age of 16, and her life has been defined by discipline, resilience, and purpose.
I am deeply aware of the grace in my life. I am equally aware of how hard my parents worked from a very young age to create the foundation I stand on.
And while my life may appear a certain way from the outside, I have faced hardships that cannot always be seen or easily explained. My strength was not handed to me, it was built.
Eventually, I came back home.
I began my career at BBC Media Action, and later at FRCN. Journalism runs through my blood. My father built a legacy in broadcasting, working with FRCN and later NTA, with a period at the BBC as well. I grew up watching him read the news, witnessing excellence firsthand. Many leaders in Nigerian broadcasting know him and were shaped by his presence and professionalism.
So when people speak carelessly about others, I find it necessary to remind them of something simple.
A life is not a headline.
A person is not a surface.
Unless you can trace the depth of someone’s story, their pain, their upbringing, the integrity of their lineage, and the faith of those who came before them, you do not fully know them.
I do not share this from ego. I share it from ownership.
I am the product of history, discipline, love, fracture, resilience, and grace. I am multicultural. I am shaped by Nigeria and the world. I carry experience that stretches beyond borders.
And I will never hand over my life or my identity to anyone’s misunderstanding.
I carry my parents.
I carry my ancestors.
I carry my name with full awareness.
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