FROM THE HEART OF A YOUNG NIGERIAN MOTHER - They're looking at You, Mum and Dad

I remember the first time my two-year-old daughter wore her first bra.

I watched her little face, screwed up in concentration, as she pushed the first arm, then the other into the straps, and fitted the cups over her chest.

She then turned to me with a look of triumph and a huge smile. It didn’t matter to her that she was making a big deal over something as uneventful to me as putting on a bra; she had done it all by herself. It mattered even less that she was wearing my bra and it was, well let’s just say, definitely not her size!

Yes, she was imitating the ritual she had seen me repeat every day since she was old enough to understand what it was, even if she did not yet understand why I did it. As she doesn’t understand what make up is, or why I use it; that the high heels I wear , though alright for me just swallow up her small feet and that handbags sometimes do really need to be as big as she is.

My tiny tot’s antics remind me that whether I am conscious of it or not, I am her compass for all that it means to be a female. It started right from when she realized that I kind of look like her and it will end the day that I go on to glory.

Being a reference point to her of all things feminine and adult becomes a big responsibility for me. It makes me question how I comport myself, how I dress, how I handle conflict (especially with her father), whose example I follow, how I treat people, how I make decisions, how I handle money and a myriad other things.

Do I do the things that I ask her to do or do I just say them? Do I teach her to confront issues or ask her to tell Mrs. So and so that I’m not at home while I hide away in my room? Do I tell her to respect all people and then stop her from playing with Mama Comfort’s daughter because her mother owns the ‘buka’ down the street without a really good reason? Do I let her do what she jolly well wants and then take her to task when she makes a potentially embarrassing bad decision? Am I honest with her or do I tell her a little ‘white lies’ to make her aim higher like how I always used to come first when I was in school?

It is very sobering for me to realize that whatever my child becomes in life, starts from what she learnt at her mother’s knees as what I became started from what I learnt at mine’s. It makes me want to constantly put a magnifying glass on all that I do and ask myself what kind of an impact it will have on her.

I’m grateful to my parents for how I turned out in life. I would love for my children to be able to say the same.