The day my uncle called me 'Lagos trash' at my cousin's wedding

Two years ago, I went back to Warri for my cousin Ejiro's wedding. I was excited, I bought new clothes, even recorded some B-roll for my content. My plan was to make a cute 'village wedding vlog' type thing.

First red flag was when my uncle, Uncle Patrick, saw me filming the decorations. He said, 'Chiamaka, you still dey carry that phone everywhere? You think all this na your skit?' I laughed it off. I should have known.

At the reception, he stood up during the family toast and said in front of everyone, 'This one wey dey call herself content creator, she don forget her roots. She is too Lagos now. She cannot even speak Urhobo properly.' The whole tent went quiet. My mother looked at the floor. I wanted to disappear.

Then my aunt, Mama Jite, pulled me aside and whispered, 'You are a bad influence on these younger girls. All this posting and dancing on the internet. Is that what we raised you for?'

I didn't cry in front of them. I waited until I got to the hotel room. But what hurt most wasn't the insults. It was that nobody defended me. Not even my mother.

Looking back, I understand them better now. They see my life as rejection of theirs. But the thing is, I can be both. I can love Warri and Lagos. I can speak English and Urhobo. I can make content and still respect my elders. Their fear doesn't have to become my cage.