The connection between my identity as a Black woman and my relationship with my hair goes deep. It means acknowledging the history of my hair and why perms and wigs even exist as hair styling options.

It was too late. We had tasted sin and seen that the repercussions were unclear and improbable.

Then I heard blog posts made money for writers. Like every click they got converted to money, like Linda Ikeji's blog. “When Google Ads enter your blog like this, you will blow.” So I tried blogging. I didn’t blow. 

I was a simple child then. Intelligent, but simple. I knew I wasn’t like most boys my age. I didn’t like football, nor did I enjoy fighting. I was called a girl so much I’m surprised it didn’t become a nickname.

I was surprising even myself with all this wisdom. I guess beauty has a way of bringing out the best things in us.

The poster says he’s selling “tried and trusted weak erection and penis enlagment creams.” Tried and trusted by whom exactly? Those who cannot spell enlargement?

I wanted to say I wasn't a big girl. I was only eleven years old! Eleven was still a child.

But specially, I pray for the people of Malawi especially those of Mtengowathenga parish, whom I cannot wait to see again.

Short Story | Sochima Frankline Uche | Nigeria

Rape and consent in Nigeria

What I really need these days is a cup of tea with a friend who simply asks: “Are you ok, ma?”

When I travelled to Africa as an adult, I saw how deep the miseducation went. There were myths to bust. Like Africa being a monolithic country where it’s eternally hot and people are scantily clad.

Only three days to go!

Creative non-fiction on the Anglophone crisis in Cameroon.

I have a lot of flaws but the colour of my skin is not one of them / Ugandan writer Hilda Awori on colourism in Uganda.

Should African books and movies always promote an African idea?

Another day in the life of a Lagos hustler

Maybe, preferring coffee is the sign of an amazing work ethic and preferring tea, the sign of a perennial belly-scratcher.