Being me. Being Enough….on Purpose. Each time.

On being enough, Sikiliza, 2021.

I had a regrettable experience where I politely listened to some warped perspectives of a self-righteous homophobe. I say regrettably because I work exceedingly hard in life to sidestep giving airtime to people who look down on others…be it based on their sexuality, gender expression, ethnic community, religion (or lack of) and whatnot. 

From a young age, the idea of ‘othering’ people did not sound ok. 

Many years back, I blogged about my time at Nakuru’s Flamingo Nursery school, where my teacher Mrs Raja detained me and a few other 4-year-olds from recess to forcibly convert us to be right-handed. 

We had these tiny wooden chairs, and our left hands would be tied and restrained to the back of the chair, crayon and paper in front of us and sharp orders to write. 

Mrs Raja stood around the table with her colleagues waiting…and to motivate the process, there was an ominous threat of a hard smack with that famous yellow wooden 12-inch ruler (Kenyans from the 70s and 80s might remember it because it had a steel blade jutting out the edges). The other two kids buckled after a few attempts. Finally, the literal pain of hearing chortling children playing in the field while we were stuck in class couples with sore knuckles was more than they could take. 

Yeah, as for me, I politely but firmly declined the conversion…

I refused to use my right hand, and unless I could squirm out of the restraints, there would be no writing that day. So it was indeed a battle of wills between Mrs Raja and who got increasingly upset each time I defied her orders. And let’s just say it was a painful and sore process for my knuckles as well. 

What possible basis do people think they have a right to do things that harm others? 

After a while, they gave up on my quiet stubbornness, and I continue to use my left hand to date; the only unfortunate result is the mild irritation of designs of gizmos with only right-hand users in mind …

It was a small thing, but I now see how much that incident negatively affected my self-esteem for years to come. It took me ages to pick up the confidence to speak up in class, write on a board (I struggle with

this to date), or dull the hurt of othering.

Last December, I was at my wit’s end when I visited a pharmacy and the gentleman at the till refused to serve me because I handed him money with my left hand. I’m not sure what pissed me off more, his crass behaviour or my apologies and replacing the money to my right and complying with his irrational demands. 

Either way, it left a bad taste in my mouth, and I said ENOUGH. 

I am through cowering for using my left hand. And I refuse to apologise for my sexuality… oh and I plan to occupy this world and contribute to it fully or die trying…