MISFITS ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!
It was a fantastically dull Monday morning. I had just gotten out of bed and I wasn’t sure I could whip something up before my first shoot, yes, my first shoot as a professional model. I had just been signed to a well-known modelling agency and despite my fears and insecurities, I was chosen to model for a renowned designer. As a greenhorn, I was both ecstatic and terrified, ecstatic because I was finally doing something fulfilling but terrified on account of my ineptness at walking the runway. I waived those worrying thoughts aside and pep-talked myself into the bathroom, then the bus and then the agency. I constantly reassured myself that I wouldn’t mangle what I had so desperately worked my ass off to attain, so, I mustered as much courage as I could and joined the other models.
We were asked to strip, try on several outfits and walk. I had no problem doing so until my colleague innocently remarked that I was too flat-chested to wear a certain outfit; he went on to say that the outfit required a full-bodied model and my lack thereof had defeated the essence of being a clothing model for that particular outfit. His remark albeit innocent drew unwanted attention to my body and made me self-conscious. It was just like a scene out of a movie, to say the least, everyone took turns to scrutinize my body and while some were kind enough to ignore what was said, others voiced their opinions in hushed tones.
A colleague of mine whom I had just become acquainted with unabashedly stated that I looked like a broomstick in that outfit, ah! I had to salvage the situation so as not to look weak or become an object of ridicule among my peers so I threw a few affrontive words at him and true to our nature as guys we laughed it off. We turned it into a joke or rather I turned it into a joke to save face but deep down I knew my self-esteem had plunged and that was a secret only I would take to the grave. I wasn’t going to reveal my longstanding insecurities to these people, I mean, I had only just met them plus I had no intention of being called a dandy, that would have made my life unbearable. So I took it in and stomached those hurtful words even though they tried to claw their way out of my mouth, after all, "na man I be," I had a zillion and one thing to do with my life other than sit and wallow in self-pity over a few hurtful words; that was something only women would do. I had other things to concern myself with, "manly" things like my career, my family and money - lots of it.
Nobody would dare direct a derogatory statement at me if I made enough money. Money stops disrespect, heck, money stops all types and forms of shaming in any shape and size it chooses to come. "Person way try me na im body go tell am, normal, im mind go dey! In fact, im mind go touch ground. You get dat kind levels abi?" I deflected my hurt by focusing on my future and imagined wealth. I medicated my raw, aching pride with furtive ideals and it worked for a while. At least to me, it did until I began to hear whispers of my standoffish cum toxic behaviour toward my colleagues, my family and friends but especially towards the opposite sex.
My pain manifested itself subtly and unconsciously. First, it became increasingly difficult to stand people, hold conversations or pursue a love interest then I became unapproachable. I wouldn’t listen to anyone who thought I was flawed in any way, frankly, I knew it was my coping mechanism, making weak excuses and hiding under the guise of ‘self-sufficiency, self-love and self-respect.’ Ha! You’re probably thinking out loud too, asking yourself how I got here, hold up, let me back up a bit.
Remember those insecurities I mentioned earlier, yeah? The insecurities I didn’t want to let my colleagues or anyone in on?
Right, those insecurities were built on years of being body shamed about my physique although I didn’t think much of it back then I didn’t like it either, I didn’t like being made fun of. I talked about it but my complaints weren’t taken seriously and now I realize just how badly I was and still am affected by it.
I know this is something we don’t like to talk about, we think men shouldn’t be bothered by things such as this but I am of a different opinion. This is a misconception that must be corrected. Being body-shamed didn’t just cripple me psychologically it took a toll on my social life and any other aspect of my life you could think of. I became a recluse, I became incapable of loving or accepting love, I lived in seclusion — not by choice. Don’t get me wrong, I am not out of touch with reality, I know body shaming will always be a thing, however, the most important thing to me is to share my story with whoever is willing to listen and encourage men to be men - men who are proud, confident and strong regardless of whatever standards society has set for them and encourage them to go to any length to address underlying issues that were caused by body-shaming irrespective of what people say or will say about them.
