I grew up in a time when my Papa skipped meals to ensure we had enough to eat, and my Mama, a secondary school graduate, hawked used dinner gowns at the end of each school day hoping to sell to snobbish, classist teachers. Times were hard—and they still are for many Nigerian families precariously balancing on the belt of the middle class.
Those were the old days before writing found me. I picked up a pen when the Igbo in me came knocking. That was many years ago, after my Form Six teacher had called me a second-class writer. At the time, my language was crude, “unrefined,” and in her words, “un-English-like.” But why did I need to be English-like? My nose was wide, my skin black like ripened elderberries, and my stories rooted in the dusty streets of Nigeria, where my identity was shaped.
I was always the shy, reserved, and odd one in my family of six—odd in my eccentric attraction to writing and storytelling. While my cousins broke their backs working, I dabbled in ink and imagination. Some might have called me lazy then, but I knew I was born to be a writer. My Mama was the first person to truly value my craft. On warm Thursday evenings, we would discuss passages from classics like Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe and delight in the metaphysical wonder of Ben Okri’s The Famished Road.
My Papa, though more pragmatic, grew to understand my passion and swore to ensure I attained the highest education so I could write in peace, away from the thorny environment that was my country.
My family sold our little yellow-brown house to support my journey to America. As a first-generation college student, I found myself at the intersection of two identities: African and Black. In Nigeria, I had no unnecessary consciousness of the color of my skin, but in America, this duality made me hyperaware of race and identity. This “double wahala,” as we say in Nigerian pidgin, pushed me to use my voice and pen to amplify stories of those who often go unheard
In college, I committed myself to building platforms for diverse voices. As a contributor to The Clocktower, I explored narratives of identity, immigration, and community, fostering a deeper understanding of the challenges immigrants like me face.
You see, this and everything else in my life has birthed Inkbender.
What is Inkbender?
Inkbender is a huge platform. A multidisciplinary creative platform for creatives just like me. It’s a utopia for African and black creatives to express themselves whether through the medium of film, writing, storytelling, art and fashion. That is the vision I have for Inkbender.
I hope you immerse yourself in everything Inkbender has to offer. Come on this journey with me, and with your patronage we will bring African stories to the limelight.
I remain your host and founder of Inkbender, Fortune Chigozie Ogulere. Thank you for visiting today.
