The Rebellious Point

  As young adults, the early to mid millennials inclusive, there has been a time or perhaps multiple times where you, your friend, colleague, next- door neighbour or a random stranger even, had the need, the intensified urge to rebel against the norm.

To rebel is to rise up against authority or tradition in the form of family, boss or government.

This action is often a result of accumulated anger—anger that has been ignored, dismissed, or suppressed for far too long.

In families with nagging parents who would rather tear one down, trample and push beyond the elastic limit of tolerance and wait patiently for a reaction-only to turn the narrative around and play the victim, there comes a point when the child must push back. Not out of disrespect, but for space. To breathe. To live. To put an end to constant degradation.

The urgent need to put an overbearing auntie in a place more befitting for people of her calibre who seems to have an awkward moment navigating their personal life and immediate family- who enjoys fantasising over an imaginary wedding you are not aware of and have made it a core duty asking after spouses unknown to everybody but her.

The overzealous uncle with- experience in unproductive career and multiple failed businesses but likes to see himself as different, a self acclaimed genius at best, sees the younger generation as lazy simply for working smart rather than hard.

Yet to understand why 'youngies' work comfortably with their devices, remotely too as opposed to working in commercial financial institutes as he did during his time.

"What can you possibly know about business?” he would always reprimand during family meetings, to him, white-collar jobs that leave you occupied officially from morning to evenings, late evenings and sometimes , your weekends inclusive as the case maybe is all he knows as actual jobs. Anything different from this is pure waste of time and youthfulness.

The thought of standing up to them, is not only rebellious but sacrilegious as well in an African home of Nigeria descent.

Your line manager knows close to nothing on the job, takes all the credit, ceases every opportunity to tear and boss around, gives a query at the tiniest misdoings while gloating around with a shoulder higher than a skyscraper.

You only hold back because the consequences outweighs moral judgement, “the street aren't smiling” you keep hearing, the thought of job hunting makes you quiver, you keep holding on until you can no longer do.

One day, you will damn any available consequences, speak your truth because you believe the grass might be greener outside.

A church should be a safe haven- non judgemental, non discriminating, non condemning.

You think of church as a place of solace.

Alas! You were too quick to conclude. Livid will not do justice to your emotions.

You try to grasp why a supposedly ordained man assumed to be of God, called ‘daddy’ by all, would stand before the congregation to utter a statement that judges, condemns and outrightly segregates.

You wonder why, whose teaching is he adhering to, who conferred him with the power of condemnation.

No child should be assumed nor thought of as a mistake you mutter, it is wrong, inherently wrong for an acclaimed representative of Christ to hold such a stance. You think of the story of the harlot about to be stoned, the woman with many husbands and Mary Magdalene and Jesus’ stance in all scenarios.

You look around, no one seems to have a problem with the action melted out, they all seem satisfied with the ‘punishment’- a well deserving one each muttering to one another, in low tone, under their breath.

Where sympathy should have prevailed, sense of belonging given, a cruel reality unravelled.

You decide to do it, to take the bull by the horn, to put an end to what seem to be an unending madness, you gently walk up to him, neither smiling nor frowning, you intend to call their hypocrisy out, to educate them on what true Christianity stands for, to create a scene if the need arises.

“Looking good is good business” they say, but armed men in uniforms will beg to disagree. It is relatively a crime for a young Nigerian to look good- well groomed, a comfortable ride with a few zeros in your account.

Owning a laptop seems to be a criminal offence unknown to all but them - a young Nigerian can not afford to be successful in amid hardship.

Daily reports of extortion of young Nigerians by uniform men trends on socials.

Females are not exempted, what they cannot afford in cash will forcefully be taken in kind, whether they make it out is the least on the worry list.

The woke generation lends their voices, to seek for better living conditions, an increment in salary, a reform at least.

To their traumatic surprise, they are met with hostility meted out by the same unit they are trying to save.

Beyond the obvious, rebellion also shows up in quieter ways. In the child who stops sharing dreams with their parents because every ambition is laughed at. In the employee who does the bare minimum, not out of laziness, but because excellence is constantly punished. In the church member who stops asking questions, not because they agree, but because questioning is treated as rebellion.

It lives in the young woman who learns to dim her light to avoid being labelled 'too loud,' 'too ambitious,' or 'unmarriageable.' In the young man who swallows his pain because vulnerability is mocked as weakness. In the graduate who watches years pass by, degree in hand, passion intact, but opportunity perpetually out of reach.

And so, rebellion is born- not from recklessness, not from entitlement, but from exhaustion. This generation is not rebellious by nature, we are responsive by circumstance. When silence feels like suffocation and obedience feels like self-betrayal, rebellion becomes an act of survival. Sometimes it is a quiet refusal to shrink. A decision to breathe despite the weight pressing down.

And to the young person reading this: do not let the world convince you that your exhaustion is entitlement or that your voice is insolence. Speak wisely, boldly, and responsibly. Demand better. Question respectfully. Refuse to disappear. Because silence may feel safer, but it has never been what changed the world.

By all means, do not cower nor dim your light for another to shine.

Stay Loved,

Naz.