I was born on the first Sunday in the month of June 1981 in Nigeria. My parents, just like an average citizen could manage to afford a Government maternity hospital in Lagos Island, many of you born during this time know the hospital I am talking about. I was the second child of my parents. On the day of my delivery at the maternity home, there were many childbirths but the staff on duty were not enough to give all the assistance needed to the new mothers and especially their babies. Due to lack of space, human resources and time, female babies were only allowed to stay in the hospitals longer than male counterparts. Some 2 years later, although I was still a child, my little sister arrived and my mother’s friend too had a baby girl. We all grew together.
In primary school, the three of us attended, their toilets were better and neater. Thanks for not hitting it and quitting it happy father’s day shirt, two girls always had a raincoat when it was raining and I often was without one. During play, if the girls cried, I was always held responsible for it and beaten to calm them. I guess they learned how to cry a lot from this obvious over-pampering and I was always punished each time they yelled for any reason whatsoever. There was a day I decided to cry over obvious cheating from my sister, that day I got tired of crying because my parents never knew I was crying until I slept off. I was very pained and developed some hatred for my sister. I had asked my parents on two different occasions if I was their child too like my sister.
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At secondary school*, our parents always ensured the girl had almost all they asked but not me. They always said ‘they were trying to prevent her from having boyfriends early’. At the university*, my parents’ love for her knew no bounds as they always visited her at school with plenty of ‘provision’ groceries and extra new dresses. There are several occasions when my parents came to school (University of Lagos) and never bordered to see me. When I challenged them, they casually responded ‘you a man and besides, she is your sister’. My sister always had more money than me and lived a better life than me. My pains grew and overwhelmed me. I always borrowed money from her to make up for my feeding. She was very nice and helpful. Today*, I am 36 married, at some point in our Branch, my married boss is a woman and she is my sister (2 different surnames). There were rumors she dated the boss to earn the position but I don’t believe it. She is married to a richer guy and continued in the affluence lifestyle. At family meetings, I was expected to give more, do more and she always insisted that she is only a wife and that her husband should be the one to pay her contribution to the family. There was a time she said, she was no longer a member of the Thanks for not hitting it and quitting it happy father’s day shirt, family, she only borrowed the surname while growing up and she now has a new surname.
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our parents no longer have a source of income and the whole family (the extended family also) have insisted that I take responsibility for their feeding and upkeep as a MALE child. In my own home as a husband and father, I am also responsible for my wife and children and inlaws. School fees, rent, clothing, estate issues, car issues, PHCN, phone, gadgets, birthdays, anniversary, holidays (Valentine, Christmas, Easter, Children’s’ day, mothers’ day and even fathers’ day. EVERYTHING IS ME. Recently, women have been empowered, so my food does have reduced and so is sex. We eat out more often. Sex is rationed as I can’t ask whenever she is tired. Even the sex, I am DIRECTLY responsible for it (if I don’t ask, no sex), (If I don pamper, no sex) (during sex, I am supposed to be a man and do ALL THE WORK while she lies down). If anything goes wrong in the family, my pastor and elders say I am the head, I should fix it, her friends tell her to leave me if she doesn’t get enough care, my friends rarely help (maybe they have similar issues too). I can’t cry, I have been emotionally molested as a MALE CHILD since birth, therefore I can’t express my feelings anymore, no one cares really.