Everything happens in contexts.

What is acceptable in one context may not be when the context changes.

Every society defines what is acceptable and what isn’t. Every action falls on the spectrum between being acceptable and not being acceptable. Throughout human history, the same actions have danced from one end of that spectrum to the other.

Right and wrong are ineffective tools we use in moving around the world. We keep using it because it sometimes gets us close to where we want. It sometimes help us imprint our perspective on others.

Every perspective is incomplete regardless of the truth in it.

We use right and wrong to create pain and judgement. We use both to grow in status and affiliation. We use both, even when it has become a prison.

That something is deemed as ‘right’ doesn’t make it acceptable. Others labelling it ‘wrong’ doesn’t make it not acceptable either.

When we swap right and wrong for acceptable and not acceptable (yet), we may find a better framework.

But when we use it, we can also be mindful to answer: acceptable to whom exactly? Who made this rule, and why?

Less than a century ago, it was not acceptable for women to vote or work outside their homes - until it was. It was acceptable for humans to kill one another as a form of entertainment and sport, until it wasn’t. Even within the same country, what’s acceptable for one family is not for another.

Many of what we consider acceptable today will be laughed at tomorrow.

The least we can do is to define what is acceptable to us, right now. And why it is. We know some of it will change. We expect it to.

And we can stop living the lie of being right and wrong.

Transformation happens when we lean into the wisdom of what’s uncertain, only to come out at the other end better.

Ask a lot of people with this experience if they are grateful for going through the process when things were uncertain. You’ll likely hear resounding yeses. Ask if they’ll want to go through that process again, and you might get surprising answers.

The best way to future-proof isn’t to predict more scenarios, but to tune your mind to address whatever happens. Whatever happens is the plan.

What makes most games interesting is that you get to make decisions when uncertain. Think of all the games you’ve played - from video games, board games and the ones designed by life.

We always have a choice when dealing with uncertainty. We can decide which to live with and which not to. The wisdom is in knowing which kind we’ve been dealt with.

We can plan as much as we can. And we should, based on all we can control. We can’t accurately predict what uncertainty will influence the final outcome.

Neither is it useful fearing or fighting what’s uncertain. We drown in uncertainty when we fear it the most. The answer to what’s uncertain doesn’t have to end with “I don’t really know” or “I might not know”.

It might as well be “I wonder what I have to learn to figure this out. Fun, yeah?”

You might be somewhat set, but there is still a gap in what you are thinking about.

Maybe your body is tired. Or your mind wants to pay attention to something else. Something urgent.

Or there is resistance. Maybe not to writing. But to something else. Something you might uncover as you write.

Or the excitement of what the completed work will look and feel like. And what those who’ll love the piece will say. And what those who dislike the piece will say.

Maybe there is no excitement. No trepidation. Maybe, there is no fuel to dream up the next word.

Maybe you are just blocked. That block is real.

Just that, it is almost about everything else but making and writing the next sentence.

Writer’s block is the story we tell ourselves to pass things on to the muse.

We can stop lying to ourselves about why we aren’t writing. We can own what’s truly holding us back and decide what to do about it.1

It’s the kind of book that reminds us of what happens when we allow ourselves see the details in the world around us. And the worlds we can imagine.

It hugs you, reassuring that your weirdness isn’t something to be fixed. That it’s more than okay to care about what others don’t see.

I love the reminder that we have the freedom to think up and discover a dragon, our dragon, and tell stories about it. These dragons aren’t meant to be slain. Stories about them are meant to be shared with those we love.

It reminded me of why we make things. Why we care. And why what we care about matters.

The other leans forward. “Yes. But not a normal dragon.”

So they dream one up together.1

Just like them, you see things nobody else does. Weird gaps that call at you. Strange problems that only you seem to understand. Obsessions that won’t let go.

You may think it’s too small to care about. Too immaterial. But that’s exactly the point. You cared because that’s your dragon.

Slaying it will be trying to be like others. Trying to be normal. Instead, sit with it. Understand it. Share it someone who gets it. Then, make it real. Put yourself on the line and fill that weird gap with what you make. Make it in ways that those you made it for can feel what you felt.

Maybe that’s the secret all along. We were all born weird so we can spot gaps visible to just us, and a few people like us. The best gift is to share that weirdness with others - through the things we make, the stories we tell, and the problems we help solve.

Can you see how who you are validates those that look up to you?

Can you see the parts of yourself you freely and graciously love? And the parts you are yet unwilling to love?

Can you see the parts of yourself that aren’t socially acceptable? The parts of yourself you’ve learnt to hide?

Can you see yourself feeling the full spectrum of human emotions? Avoiding none? Leaving none behind?

Can you see the parts of you that get triggered when you judge others?

Can you see the parts of you that you nudge others to avoid?

Can you see the parts of you that bring you joy? The parts that erupt in shared bliss?

Can you see the multitudes of colours you contain? If you could truly paint all of you, what part will be ungenerous with light? What will have some light? What will be grey? What will be colourful? What colours will you use and why?

To be seen by others and to see others are undeniably powerful experiences. That’s why we often want another human being to see us, to truly know us.

The real gift is to see oneself in full. It amplifies every other experience.

The ultimate goal is to be your own credibility stamp.

When I think of the people I really adore - from Jesus to Charlie Munger and my dad - I realise they were their own credibility stamps. This may just be because their stories survived. There might be many like them who didn’t rely on external stamps of validity. Even if no one remembers those people, the peace of knowing they lived by their standards, and were credible in themselves is enough.

Over time, we learn that the credibility stamps on us aren’t for us. They are for others. And we learn not to define ourselves by the stamps others graciously place on us. The moment we need them to feel worthy, we’ve lost. Even if we have them all.

If you checked my profile a decade ago, you’ll find yourself reading through many credibility stamps - from fellowships, to awards and citations of those who have praised my work. There is nothing wrong with that. It’s no longer there, but anyone good with search can still find them online.

Those stamps have their place in the world. They make it easy for others to see the work we’ve done. They are placeholders for trust. They signal to others that we are legit. They may get us in the door, but we still have to do the work of affirming, building and retaining trust.

The danger is seeing ourselves only through the lens of those stamps.

That phrase, Ò̩nà kan ò wo̩jà, means 'not only one way leads to the market'

No one path leads us to our destination.

Sometimes, the best path for us is the path we choose. Others may follow a different path and we both arrive at the same destination.

Other times, the path we choose doesn’t look like a direct path. But it will get us to our destination.

It's a reminder that there is no one way to live, no one way to be a lover, no one way to be a human being.

And there is no one way to decide what path we choose.

Two books that remind me of this are David Eagleman's SUM and Derek Sivers' How to Live. What made both work for me is that they find different answers to the same question. None of those answers were wrong. None of them were truly correct. And that's what makes life more interesting.

All it takes to get to our destination is finding another path to get there and staying on course. A focus on finding the next path is a better use of energy than complaining over the path not taken.

It’s often easier to keep thinking about the familiar paths. Those are the best moments to remember this piece.

OKOW.

There is no humility in being the world best kept secret.

What you have can improve the lives of others. Why keep it to yourself?

Let the people you choose to serve know what you offer. Give them something worth sharing with others.

Not doing that might be traced to fear.

Aggressively shouting through the roof might be traced to fear.

Your work may help us race to the top. It may help us fill a gap we want to fill. It may help us see beauty differently, or inspire us to do something like it.

If your work can truly help us, keeping it the world best secret may not be noble. It may be selfish.

Yes, you’ve made your work with care. You’ve crafted it in love. You are working on something worthwhile - something that changes you as you by the day.

It may make no difference for others if you keep biting your tongue.

But by tomorrow, the problem still exists. No one understands the issue. Everyone still asks “are we almost there yet?”.

Complicated problems are complicated for a reason. The simple solution may not solve it, but it may get us closer to understanding why the problem still exists. If we let it.

Simple may cut it eventually, but not until we fully understand why the problem is complicated, what and who the problem enables, why it still exists and what we need to do to make the problem thrive.

You can now start collecting simple solutions. Each solution takes us a layer deeper. You now know why the issue is still here. You know what makes it tick. And you know that your first simple solution didn’t solve it.

So you build an arsenal of simple solutions. You’ll be tempted to find a magic bullet. Don’t. It’s often an illusion. The problem won’t be here if there was a magic bullet.

In the end, a few simple solutions will save the day. It may not be the first ones. Maybe solutions 2, 6 and 11 working together.

Shame says, "you are broken, end of story”. Guilt says, "you broke something" and we can choose our next step.

What separates shame from guilt is that one focuses on the person, the other focuses on the action.

When put this way, guilt feels more empowering than shame.

But here is the twist; it only works as long as we own it, and do something about it.

Recognising guilt is empowering. After leaning into it, we get to do some repair and move forward. We get to love those we’ve wronged, even if the person is staring back in the mirror.

Don’t skip it and don’t live there. Staying in guilt cripples.

Here’s a simple test: does this help you direct love at yourself and others? Does it help you treat yourself and others better? If yes, it might be useful. If no, it’s not.

Or better, can other emotions get you where you want to be? Because in the end, the tax we pay on guilt is so expensive. Even when it works.

Your guilt should either expire or evolve. If it doesn’t, you may be doing something wrong.

I am responsible for how I love people. They are responsible for what they do with their lives.

Although I’ve known this for years, I still forget.

I love my parents and will never be responsible for the decisions they made. Some of those decisions were beneficial. Some weren’t. But they don’t stand in the way of my love.

I love my partner. There is nothing they can do for me to hate them. Same for friends, siblings, and kids. This doesn’t excuse them from doing right by themselves and others. There’s accountability even in love.

I can direct my love at colleagues and associates without being responsible for what they do. I can take ownership for our collective goals and for the culture that creates them. But each of us is responsible for how we do the things we do. Where our values don’t align, I can lovingly remove myself from that situationship.

I can love whatever place I call home without accepting or defending the decisions of its leaders. The same applies to groups I am part of.

I can choose to love even when triggered. Because each trigger may show me something I haven’t accepted yet. Something I may still work on. I’m not responsible for the trigger, only for what I do after.

I can love the people in my life fully, without taking on the burden of forcing a change on them - even if the upside is better than what currently exists. Forced change fades. I can choose love over control.

I can show how the gains of improving outweigh the pain of staying the same. But I don’t get to love them lesser because of the path they choose. And they never need convince me to love them. Loving becomes lighter than judging.

Humans are messy. When we love, we open ourselves to be hurt. That's the deal. But we get to love better.

It's difficult to see those you love struggle. Choosing to love regardless of what those you love do is a better way to serve and see them clearly than being responsible for what they do.

B is your next step.

Z is the big picture. It’s the end you have in mind.

Often times, C to Y will change. Trying to make them perfect may be a waste of time.

Focus on understanding the reality of where you are and what you want to do next.

The rest will always be taken care of.

You learn to write by interacting with examples, not rules.

You learn to be a better human being by seeing examples, not by learning rules of being human.

You teach kids how to act in a tough situation by becoming an example of how to act, not by giving them rules to follow.

The rules of wealth don’t make you wealthy until you’ve processed them with the lens of examples of models and cautionary tales. Replace the words ‘wealth’ and ‘wealthy’ with your intent and desired outcome and the sentence remains valid.

Go ahead. Try it.

Setting a rule is easier than setting an example. Without examples, rules are mere words. It’s one of the reasons they fail. Remember this the next time you are tempted to tell what the rule says.

We often track how productive our activities are. What if we are intentional about checking how loving they are? And how they enable life in yourself and in others.

What if more of the things we do everyday grows love?

Track love every hour (or everyday)1. Think about the interactions you’ve had in the last hour. Put a + or - sign in front of each. If it grows love, put a +. If it stifles love, put a -.

Two people can do the same activity, but it grows love for one and reduces it for the other. Two friends can have a difficult conversation and they approach it differently.

Check the list again. Do they grow the love you have for yourself and for others? Do you become more kinder in your perception of the world within and around you?

Those activities are neither wrong nor right. Love enables life. Every activity that increases love increases life - both in yourself and others.

The goal of this experiment is not to make a love-giving machine out of you. It is to help you see what you nurture or not.

What you do with that awareness is completely up to you.

The first is this: what happened?

Remember that scene in The Lion King where the wise Baboon, Rafiki persuaded Simba to return home and save his pride? Do you remember how guilt had already played a number on Simba? How he has told himself that he was responsible for the death of his father. He had told himself stories of why he couldn’t return home.

Rafiki listened to Simba’s tale of what happened. Told him that it was now in the past, and forward movement is what counts. But Simba just couldn’t let go. The past was heavy.

I love what Rafiki did next. I don’t recommend it, but I love it.

He took the stick with him and, poof, struck Simba's head. "Ouch! Why did you do that?", Simba asked.

"It doesn't matter. It's in the past." Rafiki replied.

As if to let the message sink in, Rafiki took another swing at Simba. This time, Simba ducked.

"The way I see it, you can either run from the past or you can learn from it.", Rafiki said laughing.

The way, according to Rafiki, is to see the past as the past. All what happened led us to where we are today. If Rafiki took a swing at you right now, you'll probably duck too. So, why are you still holding on to that?

We have to be honest about what happened. And equally honest when we answer the second question: where do we go from here?

The past got you here. Good or bad, its job is done. Now what?

If you can’t open yourself up to anger, you may be closing yourself up to joy too. This doesn’t mean you should violently express anger. This only means you open yourself up to seeing it when it comes, and deciding to deal with it with grace, with love.

No one is responsible for your anger. They might have done something that triggered that response from you. But they didn’t get you angry. You did.

'You made me angry' is a lie we tell children and other adults. Stop telling that lie. You chose to be angry. Other choices existed. You could have chosen better. You still can.

Children who were told that lie grow up to become adults who feel responsible for everyone's emotional outburst. Especially outbursts from the people they love. Their guilts are better spent on things that are deserving.

There are better ways to deal with the ‘object’ of your anger than withdrawing your love from them. Withholding love as a form of punishment is the ultimate form of emotional manipulation and abuse.

When you find yourself getting angry, pause to consider if that was your hidden goal all along. If you’ve subconsciously created a goal, it becomes easier to interpret triggers in the environment with that lens. You find what you look for.

Anger fuels. Sometimes, it leads to more anger. Other times, it helps you do what you want to do. You get to prove ‘them’ wrong. You get to show ‘them’ what you’ve got. As with every bad fuel, your nervous system always pays the price in the long run.

Anger is not a directive. It is transient. When you don’t know what to do with it, see it for what it is and let it pass.

Don’t try to have an intellectual debate with your anger. It's deluding. You lose every time. Plus, it serves none of you.

You can’t use your display of anger to change someone else’s belief or behaviour. You can’t win them over with an angry heart. You can’t make them do what you want by directing your anger at them. If their action changes because of an exposure to your anger, that change may not last. Over time, it backfires. Because it was anchored on fear, not love.

We sometimes use anger to protect ourselves from getting hurt by others, only to get hurt by anger itself.

When you find yourself angry at something you can’t do anything about, pause to find out why you are actually angry. You might have found a decoy target that has nothing to do with why you are upset.

Beware of things that only keep giving when you are angry. Beware of people that seem to take you seriously only when they sense your anger. Beware of thinking that your anger is what makes them take you seriously.

There are times when anger is beautiful; when it paves the way for compassion to take over the scene. And this leads us to take action on behalf of those who aren’t in a position to.

Anger can shape how we perceive the world. Talk to people who have been yelled at ‘out of love’ as children. You may see how they may confuse anger with kindness, attracting people who measure love in cycles of anger and drama.

Delaying gratification doesn’t only apply to pleasurable things. Acting angrily can be gratifying too. The result of talking with others when you are angry isn’t always what you both hoped it will be. Know when a delay shouldn’t be delayed.

Don’t allow others to stampede their anger into yours. Your triggers are yours to define. And you can choose for it not to be influenced by others.

No one can rile you up without your involvement. No one can make you exercise anger, envy or resentment if you choose not to.

Anger needs only one host to thrive. But it loves to fill the spaces between us.

People can’t read minds. If you were angry about something, learn how to talk about it. Imagining that people will automatically know what triggered you is wishful thinking.

To better understand your anger, pay attention to what happens within your body when you are angry.

Sometimes, the way to process anger is to see it for what it is, and give yourself the space to understand it. When it doesn't make sense, see and accept it, trusting that the understanding will find its way to you.

Love is anger’s antidote. Love that continues to grow, continues to change, continues to evolve. Love that sees anger, welcomes anger, without judging it.

These are my notes to self. Yours, if useful.

So beautiful, I got permission from my 'more than best friend', Moyinoluwa to share it here.1

Consider it a love letter to the mums I know, and the mothers in the lives of anyone reading this.

The full letter is below.

Mothers’ Day is one of the days we now look forward to for many reasons. One of those reasons is that while Mo supports and honour mums in her work everyday, the world joins us in that celebration at least once every year - depending on what part of the world you are, or whoever is counting the days 🙂. And this year is no exception. Our hearts open up with joy as we write this love letter to you and the one hundred remarkable mothers of African descent who wake before dawn and sleep after midnight, who whisper bedtime stories after board meetings, who give of your hearts as well as you give to your callings.

Can you feel that gentle but persistent force that moulds our nations, our homes, our very souls? The force you’ll find in voices that sing lullabies you may never hear through record labels, in hands that sign corporate deals, calm weary bodies and then braid daughters' hairs. You’ll feel it in hearts big enough to hold both professional ambition and boundless motherly love. Can you feel the life that African mothers continue to give? No, I’m not talking about only those who gave birth to us, but also you and the ones who are birthing our future through their children and their work. The ones we’ve chosen to honour today - through our calls, status updates, text messages, and gifts - even the gift of the Umi100 honours list.

These women have learnt to bring their whole selves everywhere they go. They refuse the false choice between nurturing others and nurturing their dreams. Instead, they embrace the beautiful, messy, powerful wholeness of being both mother and change-maker. They teach us that change is whatever we define it to be, and we don’t have to lose our essence in that definition.

This year as is our wont, the Umi100 honour list wraps its arms around these mums and whispers: we see you, we feel you, we celebrate the revolutionary act that is your daily and ‘ordinary’ life.

Close your eyes for a moment. Feel the weight of the invisible crown that sits upon your head each morning as you rise - the crown of motherhood that the world often fails to see, yet you carry with quiet dignity. Now imagine that crown suddenly illuminated, its gems catching light, its worth finally acknowledged. And the light that beams is so bright, you can see the path that lies ahead.

This is what we do when we speak the names of mums aloud, including these mums: Catia Mondlane from Mozambique, a single mum who created a remedy for skin irritations through her organic skin care products, Abena Osei-Asare of Ghana, whose fingers have crafted national budgets and wiped children's tears. Wissal Fehmi of Tunisia who makes pastries with the same care she puts into helping her daughter eat healthy. Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr of Sierra Leone, whose voice has commanded city halls and sung indigenous lullabies. These women and their ninety-six sisters who are all 2025 Umi100 honourees represent 27 countries across our continent. Each name is a heartbeat. Each story is a song that deserves to be heard. Even if it’s first heard and danced to among other Umi mums (Umi means life-giver, it’s who we are as mothers).

Sense the determination in Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah's steps as she leads Namibia while still answering to the sweetest title: Mum or Mêmê or Mama (oh, no, it’s definitely not Madame President. Or is it?). Allow your heart to break and then wholly mend alongside Adepeju Jaiyeoba, who transformed her grief into birth kits that save countless Nigerian mothers. And with Victoria Haihambo of Namibia, who recently lost her husband of 14 years to cancer, but somehow turned the pain into creating a foundation to support writers in his honour. Taste the progress being brewed by Apiwe Nxusani-Mawela, South Africa's first black female brewmaster, while fermenting values in her children. Take a deep breath in knowing that Adjany Costa of Angola protects the air and water that will nurture generations she may never meet.

What flows through all these women is not just excellence in their fields (which is so important) but the sacred rhythm of nurturing. An inhale of calling in their professions, and the exhale of maternal love and care. Their bodies hold this beautiful tension that many mothers I know deeply feel, and they’ve shown us that a woman need not be divided against herself. Motherhood and leadership, motherhood and service, are not weights on opposite sides of a scale but wings on the same bird; the perfect balance for flight.

Now, let me be clearer. These women are not distant idols to be admired from afar. Rather, they are mirrors reflecting possibilities you may have felt in your bones but couldn't give a name to. That itching at the center of your soul that you long to reach in and scratch. Each honouree whispers through her life: "you were made to be whole."

Feel the different textures of their journeys against your skin - the kente-like boldness of Bozoma Saint John's corporate brilliance interwoven with authenticity and motherly devotion; the delicate ankara-like smoothness of Diana Mbogo's engineering innovations and gentle bedtime routines; the wax-resistant embroidery of Nelly Agbogu making a name for herself between school runs.

They move through worlds as diverse as we are - studios and market stalls, board rooms and theatres, courtrooms and classrooms, hospital wards and parliaments. You might recognise some names instantly, as they shine their light so bright it casts shadows. Others work in beautiful - and sometimes deliberate - obscurity, their impact felt first by their children, then rippling outward through communities transformed by their quiet persistence.

We didn't choose any of the Umi100 honourees for the zeros in their bank accounts or the number of cameras that follow them. We chose them because when we placed our hands over our hearts and asked, "Who embodies this beautiful whole? Who refuses to shrink either her calling or her maternal love?", these hundred names rose to the surface, their pulses synchronizing with a deeper truth about womanhood and motherhood.

They are not superhuman. Neither are they wonder-women (sorry folks, let’s not create feeble pedestals). Far from that. They are gloriously, imperfectly human. And in their humanity lies the most powerful gift they offer: the permission to bring your full self to every room you enter, to live undivided, to mother and to lead with your entire being.

And this moment, I say to them, just as I say to you reading: let your shoulders drop for a moment and release the breath you've been holding. I see you, and I know the weight you carry.

The women we celebrate do not stand effortlessly where they are. Neither did they get there smoothly. Their journeys are mapped in sleepless nights, in tears shed in bathroom stalls between meetings and in empty rooms, in the ache of missed school gatherings, in prayers whispered over feverish children before rushing for another work engagement, and also in career-advancing opportunities they had to forgo for the people they love the most. I know you can feel in your own body the familiar tension they've held; the guilt that sometimes visits uninvited, the exhaustion that settles into your bones, and the sometimes faint resolve that gets you past that moment.

Many of them have navigated workplaces that raised eyebrows at pregnancy announcements. They've pumped breast milk in supply closets. They’ve held on through days when their spouses were away for lack of parental leave. They've taken conference calls while making dinner. They've faced the question people ask in an unconscious manner: "But who is raising your children?" Their response, unspoken but lived: "I am, along with those I trust. Always. In every moment. Through every achievement."

Many have rocked babies through power outages and political instability. They've helped with homework by candlelight and lamps during fuel shortages. They've created homemade remedies when medicine was scarce. And when the world offered no safety net, they wove their own - from friendships, playpods, extended families, and communities of women who understood without explanation.

Their success doesn't mean the mountain isn't steep, or the climb isn’t difficult. It means they've climbed it, carrying children on their backs. And in that climb, they've carved steps for you, for us, for those who choose to follow. Their achievements aren't a reason to shame other women or demand the same impossible resilience from all mothers, but a reason to smooth the path, to build a world where such extraordinary strength isn't required for ordinary flourishing. Or as the novelist and 2024 Umi100 honouree, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie recently alluded, we need to challenge the culture of shame and give women the freedom to make choices without judgment or pressure.

Now, place your palm over your heart. Feel its steady rhythm. Now imagine that beat multiplied by millions - that’s the collective pulse of African mothers rising together. This is not just a celebration; it's an awakening.

It is an awakening to move beyond admiration into action. To transform the world that these women have navigated so that their daughters and yours might walk with lighter steps. To honour the hands that rock cradles and write policies, recognizing that both shape our future with equal power. To create workplaces where a mother's wisdom is treasured, where her unique capacity for nurturing connection and driving progress is valued as the asset it truly is. To celebrate the woman who leads a corporation and the one who leads a community garden with the same reverence, knowing that each cultivates growth in her own way. To continue to join arms across generations, creating circles of support where knowledge flows like mother's milk between experienced women and new mothers finding their way - and for this, we are eternally grateful to our Umi mentors. To dream boldly of a word where we no longer talk about the (illusion of) ‘balance’ a mother achieves because we've built a world that no longer requires impossible choices.

And each time you place your palm over your heart, remember this awakening. Let's transform our dining tables, our boardrooms, our parliaments and religious halls into spaces where a mother's full humanity is not just accommodated but embraced as vital to our flourishing as a whole.

Let’s soften our gazes and look beyond today. In the distance, do you see it? The future taking shape in the most intimate spaces of our lives – at home where mums like the Umi100 honourees help with both homework and strategic planning calls; in bedrooms where they whisper dreams and prayers into sleeping ears; in living rooms where they are living examples of how power and tenderness can live in the same body, as they leave no one untouched.

Our sons, learning that women's voices carry authority and wisdom. Our daughters, internalizing the truth that their bodies can create not just babies but businesses, art, policies, science, software and designs. And they can legitimately choose which to create and which not to.

This is the world blooming before our eyes, where a mother's multidimensional capacity is finally recognized as her unique strength, not her limitation. Where success is measured not by how well a woman separates her identities but by how beautifully she integrates them.

Now, feel the warmth spreading through your chest as I write directly to you now:

To the hundred women who have now joined the Umi100 hall of love, we wrap you in light, grace and compassion. Your midnight worries and early morning triumphs, your divided attention and your multiplied love, your strategic mind and your nurturing heart - all of you is seen, is honoured, is loved, and is worthy. And all of you are. May the light this honour shine on your path illuminate the way for countless others. The world may know your titles, but your children know your heart. Today, we honour both.

And to you - yes, you - the mother reading these words who may never see her name on any list but who pours herself out daily in ways we don’t see, place your hand where it hurts, where you've felt the stretch of trying to be everything to everyone. Feel my hand covering yours. Feel the hands of all mothers who came before you, steadying your tired shoulders. You are writing the future with every kiss you land on the forehead of those that call you mum, every boundary set, every moment of presence you summon when your reserves seem empty, and every way you choose to show up for yourself and the world.

Love,
Moyinoluwa and Damola

PS: The complete list of the Umi100 honourees awaits you at umiformothers.com/umi100. Join us in this embrace of remarkable women showing us how motherhood and excellence aren't opposing forces but the same life-giving energy flowing through different outlets.

Not answers. Questions.

Weird questions. Beautiful questions. Terrible questions. Meta questions.

I just never thought of it as a hobby - until now. It was just something I do, for the sake of it.

It started before I was a teenager. I collected ‘words on marble’; words, sentences and aphorisms that resonated with me. I had a series of commonplace notebooks with thousands of those sentences. Still saw one of those the last time I checked the room I grew up in.

Now, I just find questions everywhere. Every answer creates a question. Every solution births a new question. Every question becomes another question.

At some point, I was not interested in the answers. Just the questions. Sitting with them. Dancing with the possibilities they hold. And letting them go when they’ve done their job.

Questions matter. Oh, I love questions.

[Another hobby is tinkering with water - how it is served, what it contains and why. I don’t understand where this is going yet; it’s a post for another day.]

It compounds and pays dividends that are invaluable. Well beyond what we can measure.

Where other assets fluctuate between boom and bust, this one slowly compounds and keeps giving regardless of external conditions.

The greatest financial asset I found is contentment woven with curiosity.

The knowing of what enough is and why. Growing a pile, without being attached to it. Creating experiments, without an attachment to any of the potential outcomes.

I love the dance between the two. Contentment creates a safe ground for curiosity. Curiosity prevents contentment from becoming complacency. You can be at peace with what is, working on what could be without attaching your happiness to it.

The truly wealthy people I know have this asset. You may not find it on their balance sheets, but you know it when you see it. Some of the least wealthy people I know can't stop buying everything their hands can touch. While they accumulate, the truly wealthy cultivate by following their curiosity - making what matters.

One shows us what money can buy, the other shows us what money can't measure; the quiet dignity that makes life worth living.

The greatest financial asset is within reach if we choose to find it. And if we are willing to look 'foolish' for owning it. There is wisdom in that foolishness.