Force of Nature
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About this ebook
What is divine feminine energy, and how can we channel it? Force of Nature explores this question through the lens of an African woman grappling with childhood, womanhood, cultural identity, and the societal issues that disproportionately affect women.
This poetry collection parallels African women to nature itself, fo
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Force of Nature - Odemi E Pessu
Author’s Note
As a young girl, I was enamored by the stars. I would stay up reading, imagining myself as the characters in my favorite books, and looking up at the bright lights in Georgia’s empty rural sky. I would sit and scribble my dreams into my favorite composition book, silently wishing that my life could be different—easier, fuller.
I saw my first shooting star a few months ago, while writing this book, and I was amazed by the gratitude that washed over me. I was grateful for the chance to begin again, the opportunity for rebirth. This time, I was secure in my divinity and power. How funny it was for me to finally see a star fall out of the sky just as I have finally realized all I’ve ever wanted is already mine.
I think of my fondness for nature and the beauty of the wilderness that surrounds us. Sparrows fly unwittingly; seasons ebb and flow in divine timing. Fires rage while flowers bloom and dandy shores welcome passionate sunsets promising something familiar, yet new. Nothing is controlled, but everything is connected. We can learn so much about ourselves by paying attention to the subtle lessons from Mother Earth. She shows us that every aspect of our beings contributes to the beautiful ecosystem that is our mind. With her guidance, I have learned to embrace the enigmatic parts of myself and bask in life’s beautifully crafted chaos. Our Earth never begs for permission to exist; she shows us every day what it means to be free. Be it through tree stumps that join hands over time or the bright smile of the moon and her many phases, our Earth reminds us that it is okay to change, and it is okay to grow. But most importantly, it is our natural state to exist freely. That is when we thrive.
As such, it is a longstanding frustration of mine that African women globally are so often policed. Be it the way we wear our hair, or the way we choose to dress, or even the ways we mourn and cry or express our feelings, African women are often forced to shrink ourselves for the comfort of others. African women often lean into a narrative of self-sacrifice because that is what we are taught. We are taught to cater to the needs of our parents before our own; we are taught to uplift our husbands and our children even if it means burying ourselves prematurely. We are taught to view a life of second-class citizenship as one that is expected, not to be challenged. African women have built the backbones of society on the African continent, and it was our forced labor that catapulted Western societies to their supposed greatness. It is our wit and our wisdom that act as a sage and guide even outside of matriarchal structures. We are shoulders to cry on and bosoms to suck, but seldom are we given a listening ear. We are groomed to view happiness as a luxury, instead of our God-given right. But I am writing this lyrical manifesto as an ode to who we are in our entirety. We deserve happiness, and we deserve the freedom to define that happiness for ourselves.
I am blessed to have grown up in a household filled with proud Nigerian women who taught me the value of tenacity and to take up space without chipping away at my own value. The steady flow of their love nourished my dreams and transformed my secret streams of consciousness into waves of action. I was precocious, enthralled by the idea of becoming someone who important people listened to. My parents did not raise me to view my Blackness as a hindrance; they did not tell me that my femininity was something that would derail me on this path to greatness. No, they told me I was brilliant. They told me I was special. They told me I could be anything and everything I wanted in this life as long as I have faith in God. I believed them; how could I not? This self-assuredness manifested itself intensely during my teen years. I wanted so desperately to show my parents that their unwavering belief in me was not in vain. I wanted them to know that I was, indeed, brilliant and special. I tried so hard to prove myself worthy of achieving my aspirations.
Now, as I reflect on the prowess embedded in my Itsekiri and Ijaw lineage, how