Mariam Motunrayo(she/her)

Intersectional feminist || Mental Health♡🦋 ll Travel when I can get it🧳 ll Doctoral Student @GC_CUNY || @columbia Alum || @uhdowntown Alum.

[Mariam Motunrayo(she/her) @Mzmariamm]

@ScholarshipfPhd 4/5 so far, lol.

[Mariam Motunrayo(she/her) @Mzmariamm]

@ridwan_ao 🔪🔪🔪 liar 🤡

[Mariam Motunrayo(she/her) @Mzmariamm]

@FolaLagos Fantastic, Come and Love me, Just Between Lovers

[Mariam Motunrayo(she/her) @Mzmariamm]

@ridwan_ao Okay

[Mariam Motunrayo(she/her) @Mzmariamm]

@coffeeforcomfyy @_iffey_xo My Dearest.. lol. What are you waiting for?!

[Mariam Motunrayo(she/her) @Mzmariamm]

@kdrama_outofbox "Mother" starring Lee Bo Young

[Mariam Motunrayo(she/her) @Mzmariamm]

@loveyy_doll @tensorfied_ Melo Is My Nature, Familiar Wife, Our Blues, Just Between Lovers, Nothing But Thirty (Chinese)

[Mariam Motunrayo(she/her) @Mzmariamm]

@IzunnaDike Why??? What did we do???

[Sholdon Daniels @SholdonDaniels]

We do need a better way of transitioning people off of welfare once they start to come up in life.

The way it’s set up now, if you’re busting your butt, but you need help, you won’t get it. But if you’re doing nothing, you get all the help and resources forever.

This needs to change.

[ඞ @lifeinchaos_]

real essay writers know

[💗 @ma1ybe]

In South Korea, some women report that servers explain menus or make recommendations to men first, even when the woman is paying. In the UK, a study in carvery restaurants found men were served larger portions of meat than women for the same order.
And in professional kitchens, women are far less likely to become head chefs or win top culinary awards, even when they’re equally skilled. Women are more likely to eat last and least in their own households.
In many cultures, social norms dictate that men and boys eat first, leaving women and girls smaller portions or lower-quality food. THERE IS MISOGYNY IN ALMOST EVERY FACET.

[K. @kafkaex]

No one knows you. No one has a story about who you are. No one is waiting for you to be the person you were yesterday. You're just a stranger in a chair by the window, watching a city that doesn't need anything from you.

It's the feeling that anything could happen. That the world is bigger than the walls you built around yourself back home. That the life you've been living is just one version of a life, and there are others, and they're not as far away as you thought.

At home, you're fixed. Known. You fit into a shape that other people recognize, and after a while, you forget you're even in a shape at all. But here, alone, somewhere new, the shape dissolves. You could be anyone. You could be more of yourself than you've ever been. No one is watching to see if you stay consistent.

[Dr. Ose Etiobhio @osemagnum]

I'M NOT HAPPY WITH THE SITUATION I'M HEARING SURROUNDING THE DEATH OF CHIMAMANDA'S SON.

When the Light Pauses: Grief, Waiting, and the Country That Holds Its Breath

I am not happy, and I say this plainly, and I say it with a throat that tightens as though grief has fingers. I am not happy with the situation I'm hearing surrounding the death of Chimamanda’s son, because some losses arrive quietly and others arrive with noise, and this one has arrived with whispers that bruise the ear and headlines that refuse tenderness. According to what we are hearing, according to the ARISE television and the urgency of breaking news, Chimamanda says it was an overdose of an anaesthetic drug, and the words fall heavy, and they do not land, and they keep echoing, and grief becomes public before it has learned how to breathe. Gosh, we say, because language often fails us first.

And I want to hear the report, not because curiosity is noble, but because truth is a balm, and because speculation is a wound that keeps reopening itself. I want to hear the report from the hospital, Euracare, because institutions too must speak, and because silence can sound like guilt even when it is merely caution. Euracare is one of the best, we say, and we mean it, and yet excellence does not exempt anyone from scrutiny, just as scrutiny does not erase years of care. I cannot sit to read this to the end, not yet, because grief has a way of shortening attention spans and lengthening nights.

Chimamanda is an idol to me, and idols are not statues but mirrors, and in her sentences I learned how conjunctions can carry weight, how and can become a bridge, how meaning can be coaxed rather than forced. I want to build myself to write like her, and now the irony cuts deep, because the woman who taught us how to tell our truths is being asked to live inside a truth too raw for metaphor. There is an innuendo here that no one wants to name: that when brilliance is wounded, the world leans closer, not always kindly. I literally took a wedding picture with her latest book.

If this is confirmed, Nigeria will be in the spotlight for the wrong reasons again, and the word again is doing too much work, because it carries our fatigue and our hope and our old disappointments. First Anthony Joshua, now Chimamanda, and we cry because our heroes are not supposed to bleed in public, and because systems are supposed to protect, and because mothers are not supposed to bury children, and because countries are supposed to learn. We wait, and waiting becomes an act of respect, and restraint becomes a form of love. Let the facts speak, and let compassion speak louder, and let us remember that behind every headline is a family learning how to stand up in a room where the light has paused.

[Poetry. @2lastvibes]

One day you and I will visit all countries together, We will collect sunrises like postcards and learn the language of streets, We will get lost on purpose and call it freedom
Sharing silence on long trains and laughter in crowded markets.

We will stand before oceans that have never heard our names, Walk through cities older than our fears, Sleep under skies that remind us how small and lucky we are.

Borders will blur into memories
Miles will turn into stories. And home will no longer be a place on a map. But the space between your hand and mine. As the world opens itself to us. One journey at a time.

[Lady Barbara |Founder & Data Scientist @data_barbs]

Sad, but not surprising.

I haven’t travelled by road in Nigeria since 2006. I haven’t flown domestically either. Nigeria is frightening in a way that makes you reroute your entire journey, flying out of the country just to fly back into another city for peace of mind.

I’m part of the generation that lost friends to avoidable air crashes, simply trying to make it home from school. Planes burning on the runway. Fire tanks with no water. That kind of loss stays with you.

Nigeria is enjoyable for the two weeks we visit, before we retreat to our functional countries we now call home. Every trip to Nigeria requires unshakeable faith in God and a quiet acceptance that Nigeria could happen to you. Because when it does, no amount of money can save you.

Poor or wealthy, surviving Nigeria is not your mate.

[Moe @Mochievous]

I’m a foodie who is also a picky eater. Yes it is possible, yes we exist, no it is not an oxymoron. Being a foodie is about having a deep appreciation for food.

[Dr. Ose Etiobhio @osemagnum]

WHEN A WOMAN CHOOSES HERSELF- AND THE WORLD LEARNS RESPECT.

BIRTH CONTROL PILLS HAVE BOYH CONTRACEPTIVE AND NON CONTRACEPTIVE BENEFITS

Dear Elizabeth,

My dear, come closer, let me speak to you as a padi in this profession and as one who understands the brave tenderness it takes to name truth out loud, and to stand by it even when the world pretends not to hear.

First, I commend you, boldly, publicly, and without apology. Because what you said is not merely a sentence; it is a quiet revolution wrapped in healthcare literacy, emotional maturity, and responsible autonomy. Many women think it in the secret corners of their minds, and some whisper it to their friends, and only a courageous few dare to say it in the open sunlight the way you did.

So let me counsel you the way a gynaecologist counsels another woman choosing her life with unmistakable intention:

Birth control is not shame, birth control is planning. It is the hushed wisdom of a woman who understands her cycle, and her desires, and her ambitions, and her future. It is choosing clarity over chaos, and choosing safety over stigma, and choosing your body over the loud, ill-informed murmurs of society.

You have used contraception for two years consistently, confidently and that alone places you in the lineage of women who understand that pregnancy should be wanted, not wandered into by accident or by fear.

And because you are unmarried, your decision becomes even more luminous. You are saying, with your shoulders squared and your heart unbothered: 'I will not let society’s trembling whispers dictate the choices I make in my own body.'

As a gynae doctor, here is what I want you and any woman listening at the edges of this conversation to know:

Contraception is healthcare, and there is no moral trophy for unnecessary risk, and responsibility has never been a sin, and shame has never prevented pregnancy. Only education has.

I feel so bad many Nigerian ladies aren't informed on these things. They think it's poison and it'll prevent them from having children.

What you shared is the very definition of sexual responsibility not rebellion, not promiscuity just the simple, timeless wisdom of a woman who chooses herself.

So keep choosing with your chest. Keep protecting the life you are building. And keep speaking, because your voice is both a mirror and a lantern reflecting courage, and lighting the path for women who are trying to find their own autonomy in a world that still struggles to honour it.

[Wholesome Side of 𝕏 @itsme_urstruly]

Someone told me yesterday that when they feel nervous about doing something & their heart starts beating really fast, that they call it their "Inner Applause" because their body is cheering them on, and I think that's the cutest narrative adjustment ever 🥹