The Girl with Three Legs

Louise Yetunde

Description

TGW3L embarks on a journey through the life of a 25-year-old Nigerian-American trans woman. While that may be essential and bold alone, just as such are her experiences of internal anguish, ostracization from peers, cycles of abuse, jail time, hospitalization; as well as the expected niceties of wealth, self-discovery, the pursuit of fame, and little glimmers of success and hope. The intersections of her demography with her own individual experiences & insights, combined with a varyingly theatrical yet honest tone and delivery, create a gripping and holistic story that will be sure to leave an inspiring and thoughtful lens for the reader to put on.

Sujets

• Coming of Age
• Biography
• Memoir
• Autobiography

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 14 juillet 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781669836650
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Girl with Three Legs
 
Salvaged Woman
 
 
 
 
 
Louise Yetunde
 
Copyright © 2022 by Louise Yetunde.
 

Library of Congress Control Number:
2022912504
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-3667-4

Softcover
978-1-6698-3666-7

eBook
978-1-6698-3665-0
 
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ALL NAMES used on this book is fictionalized.
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 07/06/2022
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
841218
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1 God-Given
Chapter 2 Genesis
Chapter 3 Sing It Out
Chapter 4 Brainiac
Chapter 5 Birth of a Violent Man
Chapter 6 Interlude. Some Things I’d Unwittingly Left Out
Chapter 7 Diva Is Overused
Chapter 8 ’Seventeen, ’Eighteen
Chapter 9 Colpa Mia
Chapter 10 TCNJ
Chapter 11 Friends Who Guide You, Continued
Chapter 12 Blamethrowing Is Fun
Chapter 13 El El
Chapter 14 Where Do I Go From Here?
Chapter 15 Working It Out
Epilogue
Prologue
This book exists in multiple times in my life at once: I have written this book additively by updating different chapters at different points because at twenty-five—or twenty-two to twenty-five in the case of when each word was written— I am, as you might assume, still very much coming into my own. You can likely even tell that some passages were written sometimes many months or even years before or after the passages adjacent to them. This prologue for instance is one of the later additions to the book. I have looked at who I was at the start of writing this book through what she logged of herself and each year’s iteration of me since, and as of this moment I feel I have thankfully become less and less vain, yet more and more resolute in who I am and what I seek in life, and more and more honest with myself, less and less pitying of myself, and more and more compassionate to her. These are good things.
It is notable to me that I am writing a book because for years I would essentially journal to myself my thoughts and reflections on my life, though it was done mostly orally, rather than in writing. I seldom ever have written down my daily or lifelong reflections, not nearly as much as I have simply ruminated. I do have some voice memos of myself doing this and they have been teachable to me in their content and insight, but I can’t say that I have much in my figurative time capsule.
With that said, this book is so full of me—necessarily and proudly. It took me a long time to start reading it in full. I tend to cringe at my words as much as be impressed by them, and it’s hard to anticipate what will trigger or enthuse me—whether the honest expression of my personality and story will cause me to quiver (alongside the idiosyncratic interpretations of my life and life itself); or if the eloquence of my words and accuracy of pinpointing my memories, thoughts, and feelings will empower me; or whether it will leave me feeling stripped. And, indeed, I’ll admit I have trouble reading full bodies of work, so it’s somewhat rare that I continually read a text this long. But what I know is that all throughout, I am trying to come to an analysis of myself—my nature, my life, my identity, my past, my present, my future in reflection thereof. I am someone with a guilty past, but also one plagued by rejection, alienation, isolation, and forfeiture, as well as a desire to make oneself known, respected, and societally valued, along with the subtler aspects of intersectional oppression and the inner trials of deep self-resentment. In reading it with full detachment—as if I were a newfound reader of my own life—I find a lot of preciousness in these words.
I had to look very deep into this memoir without excess rumination which, admittedly, I came close to in the first chapter. Vulnerability is something I may perform on impulse, but to truly let yourself be known—trusting that it is valuable regardless—is so difficult to pull off. This book is equal parts story, reflection, and diary. This is something I have been consciously wary of in writing it and, while I have taken time to revise it so the seriality of the book flows well, I also accept that I am not particularly organized and that this book functions partly as a nonfiction stream of consciousness bildungsroman —a book meant to highlight a woman like myself in the heat of life and in reflection of her early and formative years, up to and through the start of her adulthood.
Much of this text was written while in quarantine due to the still present COVID-19 pandemic which has made the drafting period a ripe one for reflection and revision. Not only that, it was also written as I was grieving a period in my artistic career that seemed very prosperous and foundational; in which I felt myself rising in my community as a cult favorite. This was a period sandwiched by suspension from my college on October 17, 2017, and voluntary deletion of my social media accounts on January 16, 2019; the latter of which, while petty-sounding, almost felt like a forfeit of my capital as they were my primary means of influence, as well as my connection to the hundreds upon hundreds of people I met with professional intention during my teen and college years (and that fifteen-month period afterward). I was someone that many, including myself, had anticipated would become a star. Many others just found me a peculiar local figure. But many others had full faith that something big would become of me in my twenties: I was smart, I was insightful, I was compassionate, and I was often ingeniously creative; namely, when it came to writing avant-garde pop songs and bringing an intense and unrelenting energy to the stage and to other people’s lives. Or was I? As I look back, I can’t help but think that some of that was in my head, composed mostly of never fully materialized dreams of success as an artistic icon and sociopolitical voice. But I know that there was potential because there was a music and arts community that really took well to me and really wanted me to go the distance. And knowing better of myself now, being more secure in myself now, I honestly imagine that a lot of them were just patiently waiting on me as I took my time, so it’s a mixed bag.
There was and is also a dark side to me, though. I’ve thrown myself, thrown things, smashed things, slapped people, blamed people, laughed at others’ expense (in the most minimal ways that are still objectionable), and I have devalued myself in a vicious circle of it all, manifesting as unremitting self-hatred and periodic contempt. The greatest mistake I’ve ever performed has been not granting myself the self-respect and faith to respect others unremittingly, and to trust them enough as not to invoke their enmity. Until very recently I lived in fear of myself, and I initially said that through this memoir, I believe I can outlive that fear, but, honestly, it’s more living with faith and fortitude that has bought me self-belief and patience than anything simple rumination and reflection could offer me.
On top of these, after being nixed from my college while traumatized and having to make it on my own, I leaned further into different perspectives and counter-perspectives in terms of my own personal schools of thought. As I became more privy to the American conservative perspective, which integrates perspectives that simply herald a more quintessential and simplified life built on tradition, religious faith, and often basic tendencies of human expectation, more and more I began to lose key connection with a lot of my peers on an intellectual and ideological level. And in this I had found great purpose and, honestly, great reassurance rather than fear. I had hoped to be a voice for middle America, as well as coastal America, but I was clearly overzealous in many ways and also very egotistical. Alongside this, I was someone prone to borderline-type rage episodes that would be a frequent burner of bridges, especially in my entry into adulthood, as well as my adolescence, so I was a bit of a rebel heart not always in the most productive of ways. I’ve been called a contrarian in the past, and I own that as one of my past flaws. One thing I will say, though, is that most people on the American right just seem to me to be overwhelmed by ways of life that don’t concur with their simple vision of how life should go and, conversely, disillusioned by the ideals placed around diversity , equality , sexual liberation, and communism. I think that that deserves sympathy but it warrants cold scrutiny too.
I will admit that this book started out partly as an attempt to get people on my side and, on a greater level, to at the very least understand the genesis of me and my flaws, strengths, aversions, and interests. As a trans person in her midtwenties who began her transition years before this book was written (arguably the most interesting and visually striking part of the trans experience) and one whose opportunities for worldly success may have seemed to dwindle, I felt it was worthwhile giving my frustr