ANKARA, AFROBEATS, AND ME
Wearing Myself Again
The first few months here, I tried hard to blend in. I wore big jackets, plain jumpers, muted colours. Everything felt grey, even me.
I missed the boldness of home. Not just the colours, but the energy, The noise. The feeling of being seen.
So I went to my suitcase and pulled out my Ankara top — yellow and blue, bright and loud. I wore it with leggings and my fluffy slippers, tied my hair up, and turned on Afrobeats. The music bounced off the walls while I swept the floor like I was on Big Auntie duty back in Lagos.
That was the first day in weeks I didn’t feel lonely. It was small, but it mattered. Wearing something from home reminded me that I still existed.
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