I have a very interesting relationship with men, from the very complicated one I have with my father to that of the men I seldom choose to entertain. There is this lie that when you are sexy and dress in little clothes which my friend calls “Bonnie’s clothes that are only held together by the Holy Spirit” that you must be this wild, hyper sexual being that devours men. While that can be true, it can also be a case of absolute self-awareness and agency. I am 100% aware of how much power I hold with just my body and presentation – being deliberately sexy and liberal in my approach to life. This may have always been there and my fashion/style evolution will testify to this but it mostly became a much glaring point of discussion among others who live outside my body after I was sexually violated by a then-colleague and friend.

That was supposed to be a death. In many ways it was, but also an incredible rise to the big occasion that is my life. Tragedy has a way of teaching us more about ourselves and help us choose which colours to paint this newly-birthed, painful yet freer canvas. At that point, you have nothing to lose, you don’t own the shame of a violent act. I had been sexually abused before the publicised account in 2019 and before then I lived in fear, afraid of my own voice, my beautiful body and my own thoughts. I also knew I was a social change agent way before I could articulate it for myself, thanks to a John Stephens who reaffirmed that within me. I learned more about bodily autonomy and what it means to love myself even when society disapproves of my chosen form of expression.

I am specific about how I choose to show up in the world and how the world should refer to me. I may not have control over how it responds to me but I am very true to who I choose to show up as and that’s empowering. I am myself in every way, situation, I say what I mean and mean what I say, wear what I like and never hesitant to demand respect from those who either subtly or overtly impose their standards on me.

I have somehow found myself sharing with some people that how I dress is a form of expression for myself; a celebration of my authentic self and a mirror of how far I have come in loving this body with once its aches. Dressing up is to self-sooth. We also live in a world that is quick to tell women (mostly women perpetuate this bullshit) that, for one to be respectable and pleasing (mostly to men), they must cover up, be “high value women”. I say fuck that. The world loves it when women are unintentionally sexualised but not when they choose to do it themselves then otherwise you are slutty and fishing for the attention of men.

Activism excludes you, isolates you and you become the desired, lusted-over woman that no one wants to commit to.

Another thing I found strange after publicly outing my rapist, was that a lot of men suddenly wanted to sleep with me, it was weird and demeaning and best believe it was met with just as much disdain from my part. I am good at fighting for myself and this is something I had to learn with this painful rebirth. James Baldwin in Another Country writes about a woman who worked in the fields, who after being raped became the “desired” woman by all men, men who could not see beyond the tragedy that changed her life but they all wanted this forbidden fruit, that some had to forcefully take from her. After the rape she was regarded a reproach in her community, a woman who would never marry or find true love as no man wanted to be attached to such a shame. I relate to this. Not only because I have survived abuse but also because of abandonment issues and loss, that makes you feel like you are inadequate and not worth the love you deserve. Nounouche cover star Claire Mawisa touched on this when speaking about how her father left resulting to her thinking no man would stay because the first man that was supposed to be there for her chose not to stay. I relate to this too.

Activism isolates you. After this public outing of my rapist, I was labeled as ‘the girl who speaks’, (against perpetrators), let me tell you, I wear that badge with honour. I am the girl that will scream, shout, yell and just make as much noise after throwing a punch to two for any bodily harm performed against me or any woman in my presence.

I am beautiful, smart, strong and sexy woman whose relationships are never longer than a micro penis. A big part of it is my doing, I could have psychic abilities that I am highly grateful for because I see and know things people won’t necessarily tell me and I know when to leave. I have met men whom I loved dearly and thought they would be the ones for a lifetime but that’s not always the case. Sometimes, they are just juggling a lot of women at once and I love peace. Peace affords me sleep, sleep affords me a functional brain that makes me money. Losing sleep is losing money and losing my peace.

Will I ever find my true love? Yes. I may not be the type that marries but I am optimistic, some man may just kick this spell of being only desirable to sleep with and not good enough to love, to the curb. I am a lover, but I also know my worth and that is not settling for just anything with a dick. I am aware, I have also upset a lot of men who thought, because they have a lot of money and influence, they would get to be (sleep) with me. Some react violently to rejection, some show their disapproval of this deprivation with much disdain but it does not bother me. I will be with who I choose to be when I choose, but that could also mean going for years without a man touching me and that is also fine, I’m used to that.

Does how I dress influence how men perceive me? Absolutely and those who follow me on social media also know that once in a while (often) they will see some lingerie pic but are quickly reminded that they can only ever lick their screen as this body is sacred. The man who have been fortunate enough to be chosen to enjoy this body are truly blessed.

Just because one is scantily clad, it doesn’t automatically mean that they are easy but they are just exercising their choices and agency. Just as much as we also know that many modest ladies aren’t saints. Some of the biggest whores to walk this earth are fully covered and in this church we don’t shame, we love them as they are. That’s a bodily choice and it ought to be respected.

I am single and flirting with beautiful men in my spare time (for two seconds), they have one thing I’m common; hot, passionate but never brave enough to do anything. Sure, no one dies from a little flirting with a hope that one day, it may rain.