Soft Doesn't Mean Weak

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There's this thing in Nigeria. You fall down, maybe you hear "sorry" once, and then: "Stand up jare. Don't cry." You grow up learning very quickly that emotions are meant to be swallowed.

 Boys are told "You're a man. Don't cry"

 Girls are told "Don't be too emotional. You'll suffer in marriage"

 Even as children, we're taught that being vulnerable is a luxury we can't afford. And so we harden. We build walls. We mask pain with laughter. We mistake numbness for strength.

But here's the truth I wish someone had told me sooner - 

 Soft doesn't mean weak.

Living in Nigeria is not for the faint-hearted. We know what it means to go to bed with no power and wake up to generator noises. To hustle twice as hard for half as much. To smile in traffic that makes you want to scream. To carry the weight of "you'll be the one to lift this family." To lose count of how many dreams had to be put on hold - just to survive. It's easy to be hard. In this country, life almost forces you to be. Fuel scarcities, blackouts, Online dragging, wahala everywhere - you can grow armor just by existing here.

So when I say that softness is strength, I mean it. Because in a place that gives you every reason to be angry, bitter, and numb… Choosing to still be kind? To love? To feel joy? To hope? Choosing to still greet strangers with a smile, checking up on your friends even when your heart is tired, still lettin]g tears fall when something moves you. That's strength. Real, quiet, unshakeable strength

For the longest time, I thought my emotions made me weak. I thought being "soft" was something I had to grow out of. I'd bite my tongue when something hurt me. I'd hide my tears behind jokes. I'd pretend I didn't care - when really, I felt everything too deeply. Because here, the more "together" you look, the more "strong" they say you are. In our world, showing too much emotion is like giving people a weapon. But strength isn't pretending to be okay. It's being honest when you're not. It's saying "this broke me" and still showing up the next day. And it doesn't make me weak. It makes me Human. It's resilience in its rawest form.

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💌 A Love Letter to the Soft Ones

To the girl who wears her heart like a gele - Big, bold, and beautiful. Who still believes in love, even though heartbreak taught her better.

 To the boy who checks up on his friends quietly, who feels things deeply but speaks little and still says "I Love You" without shame.

 To the woman who is soft-spoken, but stands her ground with grace.

 To the man who holds his child like the most fragile miracle.

To the person who still gives second chances , even when they shouldn't have to.

 To everyone who's been told, "You're too emotional," "You care too much," "You're too nice."

Keep being you.

Don't let this world harden you. There's enough hardness already.

 You don't have to be harsh to be powerful

 You don't have to shout to be heard.

Your gentleness is not your flaw. It's your superpower.

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✨ So Here's What I Know Now

Softness is waking up to chaos and choosing to breathe anyway.

 Softness is saying "I love you" first.

 It's crying during movies.

 It's calling your mum or dad back even when you're tired.

 It's showing up for people. It's showing up for yourself.

And let's be honest - this world doesn't make that easy.

But the truth is, the softest parts of us are the most human.

 They're where we connect. Where we heal.

 Where we remind each other that there is still beauty, even here.

So if your heart is tender, if your spirit is gentle, if your emotions run deep - 

 Don't harden. Don't shrink.

You are not weak. You are just real.

 And this world needs more of that.