Author Archives: Cisi Eze

About Cisi Eze

Cisi Eze is a Lagos-based journalist, writer, comic artist, and graphics designer. A media and justice fellow of the Bisi Alimi Foundation, she feels strongly about LGBT+ rights, feminism, gender issues, and mental health, and this is expressed through her articles as a guest contributor on Bella Naija, her blog – Shades of Cisi, a podcast she co-presents – We Said It, and an online radio show – Stirring the Waters. Aside these, she has works on Kalahari Review, Holaafrica, Outcast Magazine, Rustin Times, Mounting the Moon, 14: An Anthology of Queer Art Volume 1 and 2. Cisi’s art aims to challenge existing societal norms. Contact: cisi_eze@yahoo.com. Twitter and IG: cisi_eze. Facebook: Cisi Eze.

Do We Really Forgive? (The Fauxness of Forgiveness)

For starters, “sorry” is not restitution.

Forgiveness means to pardon, absolve, exonerate.

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What does it really mean to forgive? Basically, it means to let go of your desire to seek revenge. Continue reading

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(Short Story, Fiction) The Queer Tale of Mad Man, Light Skin, and Strong Guy

IT IS A new town – it has a new name – Ayeto, and a new, appealing look, but old demons lurk within its dark alleys, flow in the gutters, and sneer at us from treetops.

Related imageOne of the old demons breathing with us is the scraggly mad man. Is he even a ghost? Inasmuch as the incident has died down for five months, some of us live in fear. I am one of them. Continue reading

Dear Christian God Letter

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Dear Christian God,

You know we have a relationship that no one understands. No one has to be privy to what’s going on between us. You see, I’m exasperated with many things I see and hear in the world that you created. They say you’ll question us on the last day but then, I have some questions for you. You might not answer me now. Maybe you’ll give me answers on the day you judge me. Nevertheless, I’ll ask these questions. Continue reading

(Short Story, Fiction) Run, She Wrote

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            Nmesoma sucked in her lower lip to trap the sigh threatening to escape her mouth as her Khadija’s lips touched her ear in a feathery kiss. Long, slender fingers caressed her arms, moving up until they intertwined with her hand in the space between her head and the headboard. With her free hand, she traced her fingertips gingerly along the older woman’s spine. As though excited from that sensation, Khadija flicked her tongue against Nmesoma’s ear, traced random lines on the outer edge, and let her tongue snake its way into the opening of her ear. Continue reading

(Short Story, Fiction) Tangled Ends

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You had gone to the salon that Sunday evening to let go of your weaves and wash your hair. You could have used a razor blade to cut the thread the hairdresser used to stitch the weaves to your hair while staring at the mirror in your bedroom. After that, you could have washed your hair under the shower. When you were done, you could have put on your generator, turned on your hair drier, and dried your hair. You could have taken out the flat iron, partitioned your hair into segments, applied hair cream that promised to prevent hair breakage by giving super strength to the hair, and used the beauty device to straighten out the curls of your hair. It would hurt when the edge of the steaming device touched your sensitive scalp, but beauty in a Black woman’s hair has never come easy. Like your mother, you had learnt chemicals and artificial heat were the penance for the sin your natural hair was. You could have arrived at beauty’s door all by yourself, but you decided to go to the salon. Continue reading

(Short Story) Of Women, Edges, and Parks

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AS EXPECTED OF Saturday mornings, Freedom Park is almost deserted. Brown-coloured tattered leaves rustle on the ground as soft breeze sweeps them in an aimless, haphazard manner. The air is redolent of palmwine from the jamboree of the previous evening. Gliding through the park today, Chidi remembers everything she desperately wants to forget. It was at this park she met Nia two and a half years ago. She can’t feel regret, if she wanted to.

Continue reading