Picture this: I’m six years old, standing on stage with a single line in the Christmas play in Pretoria, South Africa. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night.” But fear gripped me, and my voice stayed small, and my line was given away. Even now, I dream about that moment. For years, I was afraid to use my voice.
Raised in a strict Nigerian household, I learned to silence myself. In a world of social media and shifting identities, I became an observer, echoing others instead of expressing my own truths. Deep down, I longed for expression — a safe space to release the thoughts and feelings I had buried.
That space found me through poetry. After writing my first poem, it felt like exhaling after years of holding my breath. Poetry didn’t demand perfection; it asked for honesty. It became a bridge between my silent observations and a confident voice. Writing gave me courage, and speaking my words aloud began to dissolve the fear of being heard.
At 19, I attended my first spoken word open mic — “Spoken Sessions.” For the first time, I heard poetry that wasn’t from textbooks or British playwrights but from people who looked like me. Their words were unapologetic, raw, and real. A week later, I moved to Calgary — a place that didn’t feel like home.
Those first six months were heavy with loneliness and depression. Being the only Black girl on my residence floor, I felt invisible yet hypervisible, navigating microaggressions and the weight of academic pressure. I became a chameleon, adapting to every environment but losing myself in the process.
Then, something shifted. An invitation to an open mic from Bethel Afework (now the Executive Director for The Alcove Centre for the Arts) at the University of Calgary reawakened the spark I had felt at “Spoken Sessions.” Sitting in that room, surrounded by raw emotion and authenticity, I remembered what I had been searching for: a space where voices were celebrated, not silenced.
Through the arts, I discovered a community that valued authenticity, trust, and safety. The mentorship of artists like Mel Vee X, Wakefield Brewster, Titilope Sonuga, and others helped me believe in my voice. Their support transformed me. I began performing across Alberta, stepping into spaces that once terrified me.
Today, I am a professional spoken word artist and poet. My work focuses on uplifting the community that uplifted me, and staying true to my roots. From leading workshops to curating events, I help others discover their voices, just as poetry helped me find mine.
One of the greatest privileges I’ve had is leading workshops called “Finding Your Poetic Voice.” In these sessions, I remind participants:
• Poetry doesn’t equal perfection—it’s a bridge to understanding and connection.
• The art community in Calgary is amazing. Seek out creative events, even if only to
listen.
• Don’t feel pressured to share until you’re ready.
• Poetry is the voice of the heart.
• Your voice is just waiting for you to find it.
Poetry taught me that we all crave honesty and vulnerability, even as we fear it. It gave me permission to chase my truth and never apologize for who I am while understanding others and their stories. It helped me embrace not just my successes but also my failures, understanding that every experience shapes who I am.
Poetry helped me remember that I don’t need to fit in or be small. I get to decide who I am every time I walk into a room.
Poetry taught me there are times to speak and times to listen.
Poetry taught me that there are times to stand up and times to cheer others on as they take the stage.
Poetry taught me there are so many people who are smarter than me and that I have something to pass on to others.
Poetry gave me my voice and my purpose when I wasn’t sure I had one.
Who would have thought that the little girl too scared to use her voice would grow up to discover her voice? And who could have guessed that it would sound like poetry?
aloT of Poetry is a Nigerian-South African spoken word artist who has performed across Canada and the US. See more of her work at alotofpoetry.com.
