010. Be Who Little You Needed.

I don’t thank her enough for surviving, somehow.

10/100: How do you honor, nurture, and make space for your inner child?

This is little me.

She can’t pronounce Nneka (just yet) so she calls herself Nana. A nickname her parents still use today. She has big eyes, a head full of hair, and enough forehead for the both of us. She’s not a fan of dresses, but she is a fan of blue raspberry flavored anything, beating other kids in races, sparkly nail polish, and licking the sour off warheads til her tongue goes numb.

She also love babies, and hugs, and sprinklers, and art. She’ll spend hours on a drawing, or a construction paper mural, or a bead kit, or deciphering the instructions of an easy bake oven. When asked what she wants to be when she grows up she’ll lie and say things like pediatrician because adults seem to like lots of syllables.

She’s witty and silly and generous and smart.

And every day I get to remind her what we’ve become.

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She’s the artist. I’m the one who refines.

All she asks for is time.

Time to think. Time to make a mess. Time to enjoy a thing without attaching art to commerce or some man-made metric.

She thrives with no obligation, no judgement, no deadlines. At her happiest when playing and indulging in tiny delights without guilt or punishment. I let her be curious, let her hands paint and mold and fiddle, let her restless mind do something slow.

We listen to old music, and watch old movies, we read, and dance, and shoot, and sing. We make silly faces, and order two desserts, and laugh until our lungs ache. I try not to rush her. Try my best reassure her. Try to remind her there’s room for her here. She’s safe here.

I know I don’t thank her enough for surviving, somehow. Miraculously, in a world that shames, and shrinks, and silences little girls like her.

Sometimes I can feel her fidgeting, tugging my arm, asking if I’m having fun, if I’m proud of her. To which I always answer, yes yes.

Before pressing on, taking her little hand in mine.

Love,
Nneka

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10/100: : How do you honor, nurture, and make space for your inner child?

Thank you for watching, reading, and listening. I’m looking forward to reading your answers to this one, friends. Who was little you? How are you making space, honoring, nurturing them?