What I Stand For

Finding My Voice—and Using It

Let me tell you a secret: the first time I tried to talk to a girl at recess in primary school back in Lagos, I recited the entire first stanza of a poem by Wole Soyinka. Yes, the whole thing. In hindsight, that might explain why she blinked twice, handed me her water bottle, and walked away. Clearly, I thought that profound words were all I needed for connection. Years later, living in Brooklyn, I realized something far simpler but immensely more powerful: the most important words you can speak are your own, and that idea has shaped everything I stand for today.

Authenticity is my north star. Whether I’m writing about relationships or just muddling through them myself (spoiler: writers are people, too), I believe in showing up as your genuine self. Sure, you might not always say the smoothest thing—or resist the urge to quote Soyinka at inopportune moments—but owning your truth is where the magic happens. And trust me, I’ve learned the hard way how much better that works than trying to impress someone with clever lines or overly polished versions of myself.

Love Is Universal, but It’s Personal First

Growing up in two vastly different cultures—Lagos and New York—taught me that while love is universal, how we experience and express it will always be personal. In Lagos, love often danced to the rhythm of Fela Kuti’s Afrobeat, full of vibrancy and flair, while in Brooklyn, I watched romantic comedies set in Manhattan and wondered why every grand gesture involved flowers someone definitely couldn’t afford.

That duality shaped my understanding of relationships as inherently unique. My parents—real-life ride-or-die partners—showed me that relationships thrive not when we try to conform to external ideals, but when we create a bond that reflects who we are at our core. I carry that lesson into my writing, and hopefully, into every piece of advice I share here.

Here’s the thing: you don’t have to date, love, or communicate like anyone else—you just have to do it in a way that feels authentic to you. Maybe you confess your feelings with John Coltrane on in the background because jazz speaks to your soul, or maybe you just blurt it out over tacos at 3AM. (Been there. The tacos were good, at least.) No matter your style, the idea is to be unapologetically yourself.

What Relationships and Jollof Have in Common

Bear with me here, but I’m convinced there’s a lesson about love tucked away in a pot of Jollof rice. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting this West African staple, you know it’s packed with flavor: tomato base, a hint of spice, and the perfect blend of aromatics. And while everyone argues about whose Jollof is best (Nigeria wins, obviously), here’s the truth: a good pot of Jollof takes time, patience, and the right ingredients.

Relationships work the same way. They need care, slow-cooked effort, and a willingness to experiment until you find your perfect recipe. What worked for someone else might not work for you—and that’s okay. Maybe you’re the kind of person who thrives on planned date nights and long walks in the park. Or maybe you’d rather have karaoke nights and random road trips to nowhere. Love isn’t about following someone else’s blueprint; it’s about building your own traditions, your own little rituals, like stirring your own pot of Jollof just right.

The tricky part? Knowing what ingredients you need. That takes self-awareness. For me, it’s honesty (even when it’s uncomfortable), humor that veers a little nerdy, and at least one brunch place we both agree on. What are yours?

Flaws Are the Spice of Connection

Here’s some free wisdom you didn’t ask for: putting your “flaws” front and center isn’t just brave—it’s downright liberating. Forget that outdated advice about hiding your quirks or presenting some perfect version of yourself. The truth? Nobody falls in love with your perfection; they fall in love with the messy, wonderfully human parts of you.

When I realized this, it changed the game for me. No longer did I feel the need to hide the fact that I laugh too loud at my own jokes or that I’m hopelessly sentimental (yes, I once kept a movie ticket stub for five years because it reminded me of “the perfect date”). Dating and relationships became less of a performance and more of a process.

Being yourself isn’t just refreshing for you—it’s a gift for the other person. They don’t have to guess who you are or disentangle what’s real from what’s Instagram-filtered fantasy. They get the real deal, quirks, hiccups, and all—and trust me, that’s where the best connections happen.

Take it from someone who was once set up on an awkward group dinner date and spilled water down his shirt before the appetizers arrived. Did I want to dissolve into the floor at that moment? Absolutely. But would I have traded the subsequent laughter and unexpected icebreaker it created? Not a chance. (Spoiler alert: she thought it was endearing. Call it luck, or maybe the beauty of owning the awkward.)

Empowered People Empower Relationships

One of my foundational beliefs is that self-discovery doesn’t just make you a better partner—it makes dating feel a whole lot less chaotic. When you know yourself—your values, your boundaries, and yes, even the embarrassing stuff—relationships stop being this huge mystery. You’re no longer grasping at straws trying to figure out why you’re drawn to emotionally distant people or why you used to accept crumbs instead of the banquet of care you deserve.

If I can be honest (as a friend, of course), take this reminder: you’re worthy of love that feels good. Not just good enough—good. It’s not selfish to demand reciprocity, clarity, or kindness. And in embracing your worth, you give others permission to do the same for themselves. That’s a love language of its own, really.

Let me give you a simple rule: choose confidence over courage. Courage means diving headfirst into dating even if you’re panicking over whether your shoes are ugly. Confidence, on the other hand, is saying, "The shoes are fine because I say they are." See the difference? Relationships built on two whole, confident people are like those jazz duets I love: fluid, improvisational, and utterly harmonious—if you let it be.

The Takeaway

So, what do I stand for? I stand for connection that’s honest, deliberate, and a little bit messy—but always real. I stand for putting your quirks on display because they’re what make you, you. I stand for the audacity of believing that love can look however you want it to, whether it’s on a stoop in Brooklyn, a rooftop in Lagos, or a coffee shop in-between.

But most of all, I stand for showing up as yourself—completely and unashamedly. Because when you ditch the pretense and lean into the humanness of love, you’re no longer just navigating relationships. You’re crafting something uniquely yours.