Posted on by ijeomaopara · 1 Comment

Speaking to the soul (amongst other things)

A year and a half into this PhD journey, I am at that stage where I can see where I fulfilled the goals I set, and the ones that have to be adjusted. Between me, myself and I, everything feels a bit messy lump of tangled deadlines that seem to grow longer with each passing day. But, against the backdrop of having presented at local and international conferences this month, making worthwhile connections within my field, and meeting some amazing radical feminists, I can’t help but feel a divide between what I see and what I feel. That divide is further complicated when I consider the difference between how many of us may feel internally about our progress, and how others see our achievements. But I think for many overachievers (and people who tend to be hard on themselves), by the time you accept the one accolade, your mind has already moved on to the next thing to accomplish. 

So for this blog, I thought I could reflect on what it means to feel dissonance between who we are and how others see us. I am not the first person to have this thought, but I think it’d be worth it to look at it from my perspective. What does it mean when we are functioning at our highest self? Why do we worry about who we are around others? Especially when we’re not all meant to be in the same space? I often have to remind myself that even if it’s not exactly how I thought it would turn out at the time, that 15-year-old Ijeoma would be so amazed at this current version of Ijeoma (and slightly in awe). Someone once said that we often work to make our inner child happy, and I can’t help but feel like this is the most important thing to me regardless of what I do. My funny, thoughtful, caring side deserves tending to, which means letting go of trying to extend that to everyone you come across. Making others comfortable in a space is a very valuable skill, but it took some time to realise that one does not have to centre your life around being universally palatable. 

It’s also not lost on me that August is Women’s Month in South Africa. When I reflect on what empowerment means to me today, it no longer holds weight when I think about my womanhood. Especially when we see how empowerment serves as lip service to ensure inequality remains the status quo, and the word itself functions as palatable activism to achieve superficial institutional and organisational objectives and goals. Defining who I am as a woman becomes about the integrity and principle behind each action and decision that is made towards my own and others’ emancipation. And that’s where I find myself most times – attempting to fuse these floating parts that feel like they operate in isolation from each other. But the funny thing is that in most cases, everything is connected. In Japan, their philosophy of Ikigai centres around your reason for being; the thing that drives who you are, your essence and purpose. If we know that we all have individual gifts, then it makes sense that it is up to us to indulge in the life-long journey of slowly unwrapping it – and then presenting it to the world. 

So it’s okay for others not to get it. To not get you. Being an outlier shows that you contribute to society’s betterment before you may even know what your potential impact will be for years to come (it happens to many). But, staying aware of what keeps you grounded makes the reflection clearer. Nurturing and fostering a strong sense of self can help us stay on track to being part of something bigger than the perceptions of others. A sprinkle of daily gratitude doesn’t hurt either – as long as we know the only person we are ever in competition with is ourselves. 

Posted on by ijeomaopara

Frozen Hearts/Untold Power: Icy Femininities, Stoic Sensibilities

To describe someone as ‘cold’ implies a lack of feeling, that their behaviour is not in line with what is considered ‘normal’. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that when applied to women, those that do not fit into the happy, compliant tropes are seen as ‘cold’. When women do not live up to traditional notions of womanhood, it disrupts the social order set forward in society. This is the segue into my blog today, where will be unpacking the ice queen trope!

You may have heard of the term ‘ice queen’ before. But if you haven’t, here’s a basic definition:

“A descriptive expression employed to characterise callous women who exhibit minimal or non-existent emotional displays. These individuals present themselves as aloof, displaying limited compassion, tenderness, or affection towards others or anything outside their own self-interest in most circumstances.”  

Examples in popular media include Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada, Jadis the White Witch from The Chronicles of Narnia and Cersei Lannister from Game of Thrones. They often play antagonistic roles, where they are often ridiculed for their inability to show emotions.

In my research, I look at how slay queens function within postfeminist ideology, particularly in relation to black femme experiences. However, in black pop culture discourse, being ‘icy’ or ‘iced out’ has different connotations. For example, hip-hop culture popularised being ‘iced out’, which also implies being covered in jewellery. Therefore, being ‘dripped out’ is a signifier of conscientious consumption and the behaviours associated with it. Attributes associated with being perceived as cold and distant are often assigned to black women who are read as “b*tches”. Yet, the act of self-preservation functions as a means of what Lazar (2009) calls propelled entitlement – where the act of self-making functions as an exclusive space of consumption. To what extent can agency be seen as active resistance beyond being seen as a b*tch? For the most part, ‘ice queens’ in themselves wield powers that comes from said oppressive systems, and not in spite of it. Although their power functions as a necessary representation of transgressive femininity, there are deeper problems with how said power functions to internally regulate the status quo.

And what may that status quo be?

 It could be the icy castle they keep themselves locked up in, the turned-away gaze from suffering, the jewellery or luxury items at their disposal or blasé redundancy with which their efforts to change things end up being in vain. Slay queens are an archetype in which being an ‘ice queen’ would function to an end. Stoic sensibilities with no regard for community, and a prioritisation of the self become chillingly clear when considering the pursuit of capitalist endeavours. In the end, one thing is for certain – heavy is the head that wears the crown.