THE GIRL WHO WOULDN’T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER

When I was younger, I was that child that’d get passed up on the goodies that were being shared among my classmates. The party packs always ended when it was my turn, I wouldn’t be picked for the school choir because I had a croaky voice, I wouldn’t be picked for the march past, or the cultural dance group even after attending rehearsals way past school closing hours. After a rejection, I’d often go home in raging anger and silent tears. I could always literarily feel the heat from the disappointment wash over me and think what did I do wrong to deserve this? But my mom, bless her heart would do her best to counteract the effects and make me feel very loved but I still always thought why me?

 With time I started getting used to it and stopped crying, though I would still feel extreme disappointment each time I was passed over. Then we joined a new church and I was shown that all children mattered. I was no longer a face in the crowd. I was called upon to do recitals of long passages, I memorized and rendered the bible chapters from genesis to revelation and so many adults were impressed. But I still sought acceptance and validation at school.

At one of the "end of the year" parties my primary school usually organized every December, there was supposed to be a choreography presentation. To be in the choreography team in any school back then was like being in the most elite of the elitist groups. Their appearance and coordination was something you would love to be a part of. I wanted to join really badly but as usual, I was passed up. I tried all I could to join. I learnt the song and the moves, I went to all their practices. Each time the music came on at practice, I did the moves as the choreography instructor instructed. Sometimes, when the group was rowdy the instructor would ask those who didn’t belong to the group to leave the class, I would stand by the window and still do the moves. I knew I was good but I guess the choreography teacher was not impressed and neither was I of their performance because I felt it was missing something …. Me. Well, the opinion of the choreography teacher and I differed on that, and on the day of the performance, I was up on stage with them in my heart until they finished.  

In the church, there were also preparations for the Christmas service and apart from carols, the children-church coordinators wanted to have us, children, do something special for the adult church however they just had no clue. This was my chance, I told them about the song and the moves and where it came from. Of course, it wasn’t long before we got a group of children together. Some of them also belonged to choreography groups in their schools, while others were upcoming choreographers like me who had never taken the stage to express their art.  I was ready to rehearse and give my best to the performance and I taught my comrades all the moves. On days where there was no stereo to play the song for the rehearsals I used my voice and when people missed their moves I would have to start all over till I sang myself hoarse. But I didn’t mind, I was motivated. The other days when the stereo was available, we played the CD till every move and everyone was in line. This was my gig and I was a part of it. I was happier now and everyone saw it in me especially my mom. We picked a uniform and all was set. On the day of the performance, my comrades and I ascended the church podium amidst cheers as we were introduced as the High Crusaders Choreography team of the children church. What a name!!! In my school, the name wasn’t even that fancy. I knew we were going to kill it. Then it was time to start. My fellow team members and I already struck a ready to perform pose; head bowed, fingers locked together in front and one foot at the front of the other. Everywhere in the church, there was pin-drop silence. Out the corner of my eyes, I could see some children from our church try to sneak in from under the watchful eyes of the head usher who turned them back sternly. We had hit elite status!!! The intro of the song blared through the speaker it was Kirk Franklin’s My Life is in Your Hands, and while we were still trying to get into the groove the CD went “skrrr skrrr….” on us and suddenly stopped. My comrades were still in formation. However,  no matter how much the sound engineer tried the music wouldn’t just play.  I already anticipated the next set of events. We would be told to leave the stage amidst applause for at least trying. Whom does that kind of applause fulfill? No one I know.  My heart sunk but then I looked up at our chaperone and asked her if I could sing the song while my comrades choreographed to it. We had worked too hard for this and couldn’t just leave because of a phony CD or sound system that refused to work together to tie this up for us. I knew the words by heart. At least I have sung it through many of the rehearsals. Why not? She said. I made away from my group and stepped aside I asked for back up and instrumentation and I rendered every single part of the song I really can’t remember how I sounded but I sure knew that my team members were such a good sport, at the end of the performance we got accolades and a rousing ovation we descended the stage. Even though I didn’t get to perform, I was so excited. I felt like I was walking on clouds as the feeling of fulfillment washed over me. Most of all I felt immense love for my teammates. Without their cooperation it would have been a wreck, I would have taken personal responsibility for its failure and probably justified why people passed me over. I am so glad I made the win.

Now apart from the feeling of exhilaration I felt back then, I didn’t make much of the experience until recently when I started trying to climb the career ladder and I faced numerous challenges ranging from writing my thesis to landing a job. And my oh my I don’t think my childhood rejection from ungiven party packs, and exclusion from performing in special school groups could compare. I just kept hitting these hurdles that I thought would be easy to surmount once I got a high horse (My LL.M) But I kept crashing into them head-on. These challenges often put me in a place where I questioned my competence and motivations. But I remembered this story of 9 year old me some days ago and got inspired. So even when I get passed up for what I really want, or the music refuses to play when I reach the stage to perform I’ll make this choreography work and it will be the most unique one anyone has ever seen.. Giving up has never been my style. If 9 year old me understood how to persist and even clear a new path on the spur of the moment, the now me should understand even better.

Yours Sincerely,

The girl who still wouldn’t take no for an answer. ??