On Consent
Hey dear,
Today, I want to introduce you to someone special, her name is Aida. She's my new and first house plant. I'm so excited about owning a plant. This plant was a housewarming gift with the sweetest note about how my newsletters put smiles on the sender's face. The name Aida is of Italian origin and it means "happy".
It tracks because I started this newsletter to share happiness and good vibes and from the note, I think it has come 360. I'm happy this has made someone happy or smile on any random Saturday. Please pray that this plant doesn't die in my hands.
Today's gist...
On Consent
There’s is no light this evening. By now, you’ll be wondering what’s new in that. And truthfully, there’s nothing new. When there’s light, I put off my light because I prefer the dark but now there’s no light so everywhere is dark but I hate it. So why is that I wonder?
On Friday, I saw this tweet from Maziibe where he said “Every app dark mode dey give you joy but Nepa take light you squeeze face.”
To the tweet, someone replied “Consent 🙃”.
It's different when you agree for something to happen or are in control of it than when it just happens and you’re stuck and you can’t get out of the situation. On Planned parenthood, they explained consent using FRIES as an acronym which I think sums it up.
F - Freely given: Deciding to sit in the dark should be of my own volition.
R - Reversible: I can choose to change my mind at any time and switch on the light.
I - Informed: Being aware of all that comes with sitting in that dark. Eg. I won’t be able to see anything.
E - Enthusiastic: Sitting in the dark out of excitement and want.
S - Specific: I can chose to switch off the light in my room but not other parts of the house or not other devices like the fan or charging spots.
I hoped that by the time I was done with this, the light would be here. But Alas! Ikeja Electric 1 - hot girl 0. This episode was listening to sounds of other people’s generator ft. buzzing sound from mosquitoes I’m attempting to kill. Wish me luck.
Until next time,
Mommy Aida