“I could spend a lifetime in the rich landscape of African girlhood and its furrows across the diaspora. I’m curious about who I used to be so I may better grasp who I am becoming. Growing up in Nigeria, I consumed a steady diet of British books and knew distinctly what I loved about Western literature. But I couldn’t find what Western literature loved about me. I often felt like a prop, or tolerated, at best. In Western media, I was, dependably, the child soldier or disease-ravaged child with a blank face — or a face with an unyielding smile. Rarely did I find stories that showcased the vividly imaginative and quirky children I grew up with. Years later, as a teenager in America, I wanted to shout that I was African and proud of it! But, deep down, I didn’t believe it. Coming of age in a foreign culture was doubly demanding in its awkwardness.
Now, in my own writing, I often ponder: What does my specific young adulthood mean? And how does its specificity build on timeless, cross-cultural storytelling about childhood and adolescence?
Now, these questions have stronger chances of survival.
I hope people see my work as a passage to the vast psychological terrains of Black consciousness — stories that flout self-centered, self-conscious, vulnerable, shameless characters who find themselves drawn to the fringes outside of or within themselves. Characters who thrive or falter in the painful and joyous complications of being human.”