Sometimes, I wonder if it was a crime that I was born at such a time because of the stereotypes I have faced. And the truth is that those stereotypes do not define who I am but I have been named according to the reflexes of my personality. This is what our society is made of and it does not look like that would change in the nearest future.
In the early 2000, I got admission into the university in Ondo state Nigeria. As an Igbo boy, I became known by many quickly because of my intonation. But I soon got into trouble with the potters in my hostel when a room in my hostel was bugled.
On my way from the lecture hall, I saw a crowd that gathered at the entrance of Olunloyo hall. I walked steadily towards the crowd and asked what the problem was but to my amazement, I was dragged by some students into the middle of the crowd.
He is the only Igbo boy in this hostel. He is the one! He is the one!!
That was the exclamation that came from the crowd. Then I asked:
What is the problem?
It was at this moment that I understood that I had been named a criminal because of my intonation. Later on, I got to know that an unmentioned witness told the potters that my voice was heard when the breaking into the room was carried out. Though there wasn't any concrete evidence that I was involved in the crime, the potters set me free but I was stigmatized.
From that day, I lived carefully on campus because I know that I am being watched. And I was just being me, nothing more. Though the criminal was eventually arrested about three months later, I could not forgive my accusers because of the stigmatization I faced throughout that year.
One thing about this incident was that it made me popular back in school. A year later, I contested for the position of the speaker of the student union in school and I got a landslide victory.
This made me promote my cultural heritage in and out of campus. I always wore the red cap of the Igbo titled chief. That was my identity.
Sooner than later, my peers started referring to as Chuba Okadigbo the then speaker of the House of Representatives. This was how I weathered the storm of stereotypes during my university days.
Recently, I faced a different kind of stereotype from my neighbours. It has been my custom to help my wife do laundry and prepare food in the kitchen. So, I sat to watch a football match with my neighbours when the argument of who should do the laundry and cook in the house started. At first, I never knew I was the target of the discussion but in the end, I just told myself not to give up on assisting my wife in any way possible.
There is no law that mandates the wife to be the one to handle the laundry or cook. At least, we have men who do laundry business or work as chefs. If such men could wash for other people or cook for them to earn a living, then I see no crime if I do it in my house.
