I begin with the first three lines of Hozier’s Nina Cried Power:
It’s not the waking, it’s the rising.
It’s the grounding of a foot, uncompromising.
It’s not the talking, it’s the doing!
— Hozier, Nina Cried Power [Song]
On this day, which also happens to be the start of my 25th year, I realise that I would like to spend the rest of my life endlessly, tirelessly, lovingly pursuing knowledge — whatever that means — and yes, agency. Financial agency first in the most ethical way, then agency of the self or mind, because these days, people are losing these abilities at an alarming rate, and I think the worst thing that can happen to you as an individual is if you outsource most of your thinking to social media, AI, some random dense influencer or anyone really.
So, four things:
One: I, too, do not understand why we fuss over certain social niceties
By social niceties, I mean my birthday, in this case. Most of this article is me rambling about the things that matter to me. But it is also my thoughts at 2 am, 10 days before, in my workspace with a red shelf, whiteboard with a definition of what culture means scrawled over it, sitting cross-legged in an armchair, asking Is it even worth celebrating? When is a birthday worth celebrating? When is ANYTHING worth celebrating? And me on the 20th of May by 06:44 am writing:
The difference between the 31st of December and 1st of January is 24 hours. It isn’t really that special when you think of it, especially when you’ve been reflecting on the go throughout the year. I understand the symbolism, but oftentimes it feels like another meaningless opportunity for people to be loud. Or when people tell me I need to celebrate my birthday, but my birthday feels like every other day, except for the fact that I feel a little bit older.
— Funmilayo Obasa, I too do not understand why we fuss over certain social niceties [Personal Note], 20th May, 2025
The previous day, I had read Mark Mason’s newsletter titled Love is Letting Go and realised that by current standards, I am not a normal person and will never be. A lot of the things we do stem from our desire for social acceptance — to belong in an ever-dictating and demanding society. Do your hair this way. Get married like this and by this time. Have children by this time. Wear these clothes. Don’t behave like that. What would people say?
Why?
A lot of these expectations are gendered too, so I speak from the perspective of a 25-year-old woman who has and is constantly wading through shifting expectations defined by society. I am expected to perform in different ways for society to revel in, in ways that keep society entertained for its own amusement and for the preservation of traditions that do not take care of me, all in exchange for social acceptance. Is social acceptance all there is to life?
Why is life so performative?
You perform for your parents, friends, strangers, celebrities, even dead people. What about you? Where’s your identity? Why must you always appeal to people who do not live your life? Genuine question: If, say, for example, you get married because parents, friends, and strangers pressured you into it and the marriage turns abusive, will the people who pressured you into that marriage ride or die with you? Will they bear your burdens with you? Or will they blame you for the abuse?
I see this obligation to perform in some of the women I know: there’s an expectation to perform femininity — which they fear they are not meeting — and I wonder if that is living. I see how hard they try to meet artificial standards, and I cannot help but feel terrible for them. What is living if you choose to perform life for others but yourself? But also, because we live in a cruel capitalistic world, I recognise that performing is economically beneficial (read more: Banning skin bleaching products won’t work as long as fair skin is linked with beauty and success | Dr Ola Brown | CNN). I also recognise that some people, i mean those that mean very much to you, are worth trying to please, sometimes.
Anyways. I am ever embracing of Michaela Coel’s label of her identity, the misfit, and I do not apologise for it.
Imagine spending most of my life performing for others. Can’t be me. 😏😼
Fun fact
Culture is learned & shared knowledge used to generate behaviour and interpret experiences. Meaning, we are all born into a culture, and we learn that culture and adopt that culture. And it explains the nature of our behaviours and thoughts. In simpler terms, men are scum, NOT because they were born scum but because the environment in which they were born is scum.
— Spradley, J. P., & McCurdy, D. W. (2006). Conformity and conflict: Readings in cultural anthropology. Pearson/Allyn and Bacon.
Two: My perfectionism is becoming mentally painful and somewhat fulfilling
I want to be dangerously educated. I want to be dangerously perfect even though I know that isn’t possible. Since my last birthday, I have … Well, I don’t know, I don’t think I accomplished anything significant, really, safe for the fact that my mind is still my own and has not perished in the throes of social media. I continuously set unbeatable standards for myself, and I beat myself up for the tiniest mistakes. For example:
3rd October, 2025 04:24 — I woke [up] by 4[am] today and I’m very disappointed in myself.
— Funmilayo Obasa, Reflections [Personal note], 3rd October, 2025
I know I am capable of many things, but even that sometimes is not enough because I knowingly short-sell myself, because I have convinced myself that whatever I do is not enough. It is never enough. And I know this is probably some kind of childhood trauma manifesting. But it is also because I believe that learning never stops — i told you when I started this that I would like to spend the rest of my life endlessly, tirelessly, lovingly pursuing knowledge. This is where it has gotten me. So no matter how good something I do is, there will always be something to learn from it. There will always be a flaw. There will always be that voice, call it the little devil sitting on your shoulder, that tells me, “this is how it can get better”. In my mental dictionary, there is no such thing as my work being perfect. Oddly, in this same dictionary, perfect does not exist, but I strive for it. And since it has no definition, no boundary, I recognise that it is an endless pursuit that I maniacally look forward to. Yes, I look forward to it.
My pursuit of perfectionism is how I deprecate and pleasure myself. And in my very very honest opinion, it is better, way better, far better, than drinking or sniffing drugs.
And yet, as the novel tracks the effort required to sustain their perfect apartment and the life style it represents, we sense the hollowness of their pursuit, which drives toward an ever-receding target. Achieving perfection is the most efficient way to discover how little it offers.
According to Hewitt, this is one thing that distinguishes true perfectionism from a mere pursuit of excellence: reaching the goal never helps, whether it’s a top grade, a target weight, or a professional milestone. Achievement, he says, “doesn’t touch that fundamental sense of being unacceptable.” Perfectionism perpetuates an endless state of striving. It’s an affliction of futility, an addiction to finding masochistic refuge in the familiar hell of feeling insufficient. It might not feel good, but it feels like home.
— Jamison, L. (2025, August 4). The pain of perfectionism, The New Yorker.
My kind of perfectionism (or pursuit of excellence, if we go by the excerpt above) is self-deprecating. I want it to be true. Until I discover what it is, nothing is ever enough. I am the first person to pick out the flaws in something I have done that I GENUINELY CARE ABOUT, regardless of how good it is. Because the more I perceive myself as not knowing, the more I want to know. And I loooovvveeeeee knowing; hence my endless pursuit for information and knowledge.
Fun fact
There’s a whole academic field dedicated to understanding why people do not know. Agnotology. It says that people do not know due to ignorance that is culturally induced. And that makes a lot of sense to me, you know, because there are people who deliberately spread and believe disinformation because the facts do not align with their biases. And there are people who just don’t want to know, because they do not care to know. And there are people who use this willful ignorance to shape public opinion in hopes of controlling the narrative.
— Read more: Tuana, N. (2006). The Speculum of Ignorance: The women’s health movement and epistemologies of ignorance. Hypatia, 21(3), 1–19. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1527-2001.2006.tb01110.x
Three: I feel so all over the place … and yet I love feeling so all over the place
6th October, 2025 07:24 — another name, perhaps, for this thing where you do research in a way that equally benefits the community you are doing research in is called Research Justice. The design equivalent is called Design Justice — these
— Funmilayo Obasa, Daily Reflections [Personal note], 6th October, 2025are[form a part of] my overarching philosophies.
I am at a moment in time where I am actively trying to define the kind of work I want to do, how my values key into that work, where my values are needed and, most importantly, who appreciates these values. The relationship between me and my work is split into four layers: Principles, Perspectives, Specialisations, and Topics. Principles = guiding principles; what I stand for. Perspectives = ways of thinking or approaching things; how I see things. Specialisations = ways of doing; the roles I embody, what I see myself as. Topics = areas where I apply myself; my interests.
My thinking is something incredibly more complex than a Venn Diagram. It can be too much to handle at times, and this ability does make me feel scattered, but I like it. I live for moments where I can make connections between two or three, or four or infinite disparate fields. You know, like how the person who founded the field of Behavioural Economics was a trained psychologist with an interest in the stock market. Or how I am continuously trying to find an intersection between writing, photography, research, technology, information design, history and so on, and so on, and so on, and so on. And how inevitably knowledge forms and evolves in one’s mind. I’ve also taken a keen interest in understanding how these intersections play out amongst people who are often considered edge cases, hard-to-reach, extreme, underserved, excluded.
Therefore, my resolve is strengthened by the discovery I made on 1st August, 2025:
I am [aiming to be] a culture worker. I do not create for creation’s sake; I create for liberation, for the upholding of a culture largely ignored by the mainstream. I do not research or design or write or photograph for the sake of it; I am driven by a purpose beyond me. A purpose that serves liberation, not conforms to oppressive systems. That is the very, very essence of my work. If you take this away [from me], I might as well [relinquish my agency and] become a
— Funmilayo Obasa, I am a culture worker, not a creative [Personal note], 1st August, 2025housewifevegetable.
Life is too short NOT to pursue multiple interests, even if it mentally breaks you.
Four: I am disgusted by people who do not recognise their privileges and turn around to condemn people who complain about injustices they themselves will never experience. People with impunity. People who victim-blame and fail to understand how the system harms others. People who only think of themselves and how to make the world revolve around them and their values. People who do not even bother to engage with the bare minimum of empathy — understanding. People whose lives are driven by hate. Selfish people. Selfish, self-righteous people. Selfish, self-righteous, disgusting people.
But I still think that people like this are victims of the culture they belong to. A culture riddled with impunity and a false sense of superiority, which therefore implies to them that they have a right to hate others who do not adhere to their standards. Ethnocentrism is when one thinks their culture is superior to others’. I don’t fancy people like this.
I said this last year, and I’m saying it again, I am too progressive for this god forsaken country that I live in.
Regardless of it all, I am pleased with myself because I know how to think for myself. I am grossly self-aware yet still learning the different ways it manifests in me. I know how to read and filter, and I’m not trapped in the dopamine rush most social media platforms are designed to exploit.
I end with this clip of Roxane Gay and her call to find a personal voice, even if it is quiet.
I also end with this quote from Toni Morrison (Queen):
What I think the political correctness debate is really about is the power to be able to define. The definers want the power to name. And the defined are now taking that power away from them.
— Toni Morrison, quoted from What Toni Morrison Knew About Trump By Syreeta McFadden, The Atlantic
Note
Finally, a playlist of the songs and podcasts that define this moment. Enjoy!
Also…
I want to write stories and lessons about my self-discovery journey and use that as leverage to connect with people. So here’s my personal newsletter, subscribe if it interests you.