
Cheers to 2025
Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of

She is that one who has guts to go for what she wants and gets it. This particular woman has no place for mediocrity and refuses to wear a label. She has a spring to her steps and fire in her belly with all the ginger and swagger of the queen that she is.
This woman from my tribe is classy and sassy, she knows she is the IT and is not afraid to flaunt it. This one has no age barriers, she could be 16, 25, 38 or even 70! A queen is a queen regardless.
This babe from my tribe is unshackled from what ya’ll expect from the woman in your society. She is not defined by the template you laid down for her. She is audacious, she has balls yet she is all woman and down to earth sexy.
She swears like a sailor and prays like a saint, come on! She lives by her own rules. Your society’s pressures does not get to this one, heck! She is not even listening. She shuns the rules of your society and all the clichés that makes your women tremble.
Her voice is heard in the streets and she cannot be silenced. She basks in self acceptance and knows you don’t qualify to judge her. She is clothed in strength and wrapped in dignity that which is not bestowed on her by your society.

This woman from my tribe comes in various shapes and sizes, beautiful whichever way you look at her. She rocks her skin without shame, her bosom decked with jewels of her choosing, her waist and swaying hips a delight to watch as she moves gracefully to the rhythm.
No, she doesn’t care to fit into the spectrum of beauty you created for the women of your society. Here is a goddess rest assured in her own beauty and allures.
The works of her hands speak to her greatness, neither sloppiness nor laziness is tolerated where this woman of my tribe is concerned. She is dignified in labour and money is her friend. Oh yes! She could be the woman who sold you your last corn meal or that boss lady always in stilettos, it really doesn’t matter.
She knows her life is hers to build, she doesn’t play victim neither is she powerless. Her decisions are solely hers and she takes responsibility.
This woman could be soft and gentle or as fierce as a storm, yet she has full control of her emotions which she expresses freely. She loves deep and passionately, giving her all to those she loves.

Damn! What a woman.
I asked a question earlier, have you met a woman from my tribe? I would put a name to her but she doesn’t wear a label nor care for titles, but somehow, i know you have met one.
Next time you see a woman from my tribe remember to tell her I said HELLO!
Jolade is a wannabe writer who really thinks she should be a pasta chef. She is an avid day dreamer with a big mansion she resides in her head. With this one, you should expect the unexpected. She happens to like music and a great conversationalist

Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of

There is a statistic that should discourage any lion from ever hunting again. Three out of every four times a lion charges after prey, it fails. Twenty five percent success. Seventy five percent waste. If a man ran a business on those numbers, his accountant would resign quietly, his investors would call an emergency meeting, and his mother would move from praying for his success to praying for his sense.

There is a woman I know, call her Adaeze, who loves her husband the way a well-tended fire loves the wood it is given: completely, warmly, without……

A message arrives from someone you have not spoken to in years. A parent needs surgery. An account number is attached, and a photograph of a hospital bill that may or may not be real. You have just been paid. Not much is left after rent and the small emergencies that always find a way to arrive before the salary does. You send something anyway. You do not ask why the message found you specifically, out of everyone this person knows.

I ran into a post on social media a few days ago. Someone had turned Animal Farm into a slideshow, cartoon pigs in suits, captions lifted straight from the book, the whole thing dressed up for a scrolling audience. It stopped me mid scroll, the way certain things from your teenage years do when they show up uninvited in your adult timeline.

In Part One, we established something that the available evidence handles quite comfortably: the female is not the weaker version

Her name was Nkechi. She was thirty-one years old, and she was dying — at least, that is what the doctors privately believed.

It was the spring of 1900. A group of Greek sponge divers, blown off course by a fierce Mediterranean storm, dropped anchor near the small island of Antikythera — a barren, wind-battered speck of land sitting between Crete and the Greek mainland. They were looking for shelter. What they found instead would take another century for the world to begin to understand.

In 1927, a Peruvian archaeologist named Toribio Mejia Xesspe was hiking through the desert plateau south of Lima when he noticed something odd about the ground. Shallow lines. Trenches, really — no deeper than 10 to 30 centimetres — scraped into the reddish-brown surface of the earth to reveal the pale yellow-grey subsoil beneath. They ran in straight lines for hundreds of metres. He noted them, filed a report, and moved on. They were curious. They were not yet miraculous.

Every New Year holds promise, as though it is any different from the turn of every new day that we witness every 24hours. If the

There is a statistic that should discourage any lion from ever hunting again. Three out of every four times a lion charges after prey, it fails. Twenty five percent success. Seventy five percent waste. If a man ran a business on those numbers, his accountant would resign quietly, his investors would call an emergency meeting, and his mother would move from praying for his success to praying for his sense.

There is a woman I know, call her Adaeze, who loves her husband the way a well-tended fire loves the wood it is given: completely, warmly, without……

A message arrives from someone you have not spoken to in years. A parent needs surgery. An account number is attached, and a photograph of a hospital bill that may or may not be real. You have just been paid. Not much is left after rent and the small emergencies that always find a way to arrive before the salary does. You send something anyway. You do not ask why the message found you specifically, out of everyone this person knows.
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9 thoughts on “The Woman of my Tribe”
Love the way she applied eulogies to the description of a confident woman.. bigups writer
Great write up
Nicely written, impeccably articulated.
I’m in love with this woman already.
I am a woman from that tribe in fact.
Thanks jolade for this reminder, that this woman isnt a social construct, but she can well be wtf she decides to be so long it aligns with her purpose.
Great job.
Yes! To answer your question. I proudly identify as a woman of ‘my’ Tribe. Living my life without apologies. The goal is peace. Lovely write up Jolade.
The Reality. Good write up
Nice one jolade
A woman affair. Great job, well done. Fearlessly couched.
Great piece
Sweet!