Starry Secrets

Identity is fragile. We are shaped by our past, pulled by expectations, and hidden behind masks we learn to wear (sometimes for as long as we live). I have to wonder sometimes, are we ever truly ourselves, or just versions we create for others? A figurine I unboxed recently made me reflect on this question, and on a title I’ve long carried in silence: The Pretender.

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with the Hirono figurines from Popmart. Everyone’s raving about Labubu these days, but I never really got the appeal. Labubu always looks too mischievous for me. Hirono, on the other hand, feels calm, sweet, and lovable. Needless to say, I’ve spent way more money than I probably should building my Hirono collection.

My most recent purchase was from the Little Mischief collection. It’s a blind box, so you don’t know exactly what you’re going to get until you open it. Mine turned out to be Pretender (pictured).

Of all twelve possible characters to select from, I happened to pick Pretender. A coincidence, maybe, since “The Pretender” is a title I’ve long associated with myself.

Back in college, I wrote something I called “The Pretenders.” It’s not really a poem, and it’s not a short story. It’s also not perfect, but I guess its a sort of reflection of me, a pretender.

Seeing my cute, new Hirono figurine brought it back to mind. So, I thought I’d share it here.

The Pretenders

I was ten years old, about to start grade 8 at a new school when I was watching TV one day with the family. Our favorite show was on – “The Pretender.” As the opening played, my mother turned to me and said: “the name of this show suits you. Its what you are. You are a pretender.”

I had gotten into some trouble a few months before this, so I guessed that had something to do with her remarks. Still, I had no idea exactly what she meant, and I was terrified. Why a pretender? In Nigeria, even as a child, you’re used to taunts and insults from parent. Some fade away; others leave scars. For me, this one stuck. I was absolutely terrified of this branding and knew this title was not something I ever wanted to be called. I developed a hate for The Pretender. Every time the show came on, I tried to change the channel or made sure I wasn’t in the room for it.

Over a decade later, I now realize that this name I feared so much, in truth, is what I have become. I have become what I feared the most.

A pretender.

We live in a world where we are encouraged to live out our dreams. “Be yourself; who you truly are inside… but try not to go to extremes.”

We’re stuck in this paradox, this enigma that bruises our understanding of what life should be. Because on one hand we are free, but on the other we are bound.

Bound, locked, trapped by the restrictions of a society that says its okay to do this, as long as you don’t do that.

So, we pretend.

Mariah was the bright one. Her love for her faith was unmatched. Everyone admired her devotion, and expected her to never falter.

But when doubts crept in and she began to lose her faith, she couldn’t show it. Because she was expected to stay bright. She couldn’t admit her doubts, so she pretended. Until she broke under the weight of expectations.

Ethan was always attracted to men. He didn’t understand it. He fought against it. He wanted desperately to know “who the hell am I? What is this I feel? Why do I feel this way?”

Around him, friends laughed: “that’s so gay dude,” “no homo,” “don’t be a fag,” “being gay is a choice and a sin.” These words cut deeply, and left him feeling like he was the problem. So, he pretended. He was forced to endure the pain of being torn between opposing identities.

Charli was ambitious, brilliant, destined to be a doctor. Everyone thought so. But pressure, depression, and self-doubt caused her to fall from grace.

Her 1.9 GPA didn’t define her intelligence, but she couldn’t admit this failure. And when people asked, she lied. She pretended. How could she ever admit that she never lived up to their expectations.

When I came to the realization that I was in fact a pretender, I found this so difficult to accept. The word alone was almost like a scar for me. I thought “I’ve tried so hard to be genuine. I smile genuinely and I’m genuinely kind. I love the things I love and I love them deeply. But, still I pretend…”

I’m not the man I pretend to be. I’m not always who I present to the people around me. I’m depressed and stressed because I try so hard to meet expectations that aren’t who I am.

It’s a pretenders world, and I’m a Pretender.

But I do hope the world changes. I hope the world sets us all free. I hope the world let’s us soar freely like the wind, not instructed as to where, when or how he travels.

Until then, we remain The Pretenders.