A True Princess

Y'all - it's almost summer!!!!!! Clearly I'm excited :)

Summer is one of my favorite seasons; it's such a special one for me this summer especially, bringing some many new experiences on my horizon that I can't wait to share with you all soon.

But this next guest writer on A Graceful Space is something special herself. I can't hardly speak to her without leaving in joyful tears, hilarious laughs, or insightful knowledge gained.

She has become one of my greatest friends & role models, & I truly feel so privileged to know her.

This icon's story is one that is far from typical; her raw, organic, authentic, & transparent story is one that I think everyone could gain something from, which is why I was absolutely ecstatic when she offered to share her experiences with y'all.

Princess literally encompasses what it means to have a real redemption story. As she will share, she was dealt quite the childhood & circumstances in her life; however, the perspective she has gained from such advertises inspires me so much, & I know it will for you readers too.

Please give a warm, virtual hug/welcome to the scholar, the rockstar, the leader, the heroine, the world changer, & the next princess ;) of your heart: Princess.

Hello everyone! My name is Princess Igwe-Icho

I’m currently a sophomore at SMU, quadruple-majoring in Political Science, Human Rights, Philosophy, & Corporate Communication and Public Affairs. (Yes, I know it’s a lot, but I promise you, it’s certainly doable).

Now, before we get into it, I want you to know the most important thing about me: Although I may be accomplished, I am still human & not perfect. There have been many ups & downs. However, regardless of what I’ve been through, I’m grateful for how God has positioned my life & given me experiences to speak on as well as advocate for.

As you read, I ask that you take in everything I say & look at the life you’re living & what you have vs. what others do. What I write today is not a sob story, but a story to inspire you & to take you into the crazy whirlwind known as my life. It’s my first time writing this, so please brace yourself for the story of a lifetime: my story of a lifetime.

I was born on October 21st, 2003 to two Deaf, Nigerian parents. My mom was a young adult & my dad was ten years older, struggling to get money to secure the family he unexpectedly had. As I grew up, I lived in between many cities & villages, not understanding the struggles my parents were going through when it came to making sure there was food on the table or that rent was paid.

I was a happy child, but that shattered at the age of five when I was told that I would have to live with my uncle on my mother’s side. I asked why they were leaving me, & they claimed it had to do with my muteness & my lack of education, but I knew it was because my parents couldn’t afford to take care of me. I swallowed a lump in my throat, afraid because I would be alone in a house of a man I did not know. A man that would teach me how to never treat individuals, & what it means to preserve even during the worst moments.

It was regret at first experience.

Upon my parent’s departure from my uncle’s house, he laid some ground rules. One, I was not a child; I was a woman (my mind went bonkers because I was five years old & just couldn’t comprehend what this man was saying). This meant that I would be cooking my own food, walking miles to get the water needed to brush my teeth & bathe, & doing chores around the house. Luckily for me, I knew how to do some of these things.

In just a few weeks, I was gathering water for my bath, learned how to make my own breakfast, & soon had to learn how to walk to school by myself (a one-time experience not to be forgotten). However, even though I knew how to do these things, I was facing many nights of hunger, was hit repeatedly by my uncle for simple mistakes such as getting snacks from my best friend at school, & more that no child should ever have to go through.

However, the worst thing was the walk I was forced to take to school. I remember it like it was yesterday. I had woken up late to go to school to my uncle screaming at me. At first, this was nothing as it had been almost 7 months of living with him. I quickly put on my school clothes & asked if he could still walk me. He angrily said no, explaining that he was late to work. Confused & frustrated about what this meant, I asked again & got violently pushed aside. Two minutes later, I was left at home alone.

I quietly got my things & walked out, tummy churning because I forgot to eat breakfast, walking slow, mid, fast, faster to what was the edge of the road. You see, I wasn’t dumb. I looked both ways as I had been instructed by my parents to do & I’m sure you guys have too.

I looked right & left. Nothing. Nothing. I stepped forward to cross to the other side. One step, two steps, three steps, SLAMMMMMMMMM. UNCONSCIOUS. DARKNESS.

6 hours later. I saw a bright light & screaming from what seemed to be my primary school teacher. “IKE, IKE, PRINCESS GOT HIT” I drifted off. I woke up the next day, finding out more information. I had gotten hit by a motorcycle, left for six hours, & was found by my school teacher at the end of the school day. At the moment, I was just worried about getting hit by my uncle for my stupid mistake & not the pain that was swelling in my neck, but now as I’m in college, reliving these thoughts, I worry about the six hours. How can bystanders leave a child on the street, for dead, for six hours?

I was told by my uncle to not mention what happened to my parents, had a fake neck cast put on me, & told to go back to sleep. A few days later, my parents were at the house. To this day, I can’t explain how they came at the right time. This moment which was supposed to be amazing became the worst point of my entire life. I was forced to lie & say I had fallen on the street, but I could tell my parents weren’t taking it seriously. Luckily my parents took me away. I didn’t mention what really happened until I was 14 years old, not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t have the courage to.

A whirlwind of a year later, I find myself on an airplane, leaving behind everything I’ve ever known. After living with my uncle, I was back with my parents. It was a continuous struggle, but better than living with my uncle. It was only two days before my 6th birthday as we were eating Yam that my parents told me I’m taking a trip to America. My heart pounded, I was going to the land my favorite movie character Barbie would be in. I would finally meet other people that weren’t my skin color (a fantasy I only tasted watching American movies).

However, sad news came soon after that it was only going to be my dad & I. My mom was pregnant with my little sister Godgift &, as a result of immigration procedures, could not come to America. I remember having a meltdown because as much as I loved my dad, I wanted my mom to come too.

When we got to America, what started as a skip through the park turned into a nightmare. We had come for my aunt’s wedding in hopes of going back home. However, we stayed in America (I’m grateful more & more every year I stay here). But the memories that stuck were my early educational years here.

I went to Plano ISD to what was supposed to be kindergarten but was pushed to skip & enroll in first grade. I was “intimidating”, I was told: too tall to be with the kids, & was the only Black student in the class. An understanding that I would soon fully learn was a systemic issue here in America. I skipped kindergarten & entered first grade with a limited understanding of English & an unlimited understanding of recess.

However, once I transferred schools & entered second grade, I would slowly fall & fall. In second grade, I was continuously being bullied with just one best friend because of the way I looked, the way I talked, & the way I smelled (the African scent was just too much for some people). I would have stood up for myself, but how could I when I couldn't even speak English?

Imagine being dropped off at speech therapy during parts of classes to learn how to say “tree” like “tree” & not like “three.” My grades became 10’s, 20’s, & 0’s. I remember my dad & grandmother were just disappointed in me. I was brought here for a better life, & still wasn’t able to be what they wanted-I was a failure. An embarrassment to my father, my anxiety increased & self-confidence dropped to an all-time low.

But see, with every low comes a high. I finished second grade with flying colors of barely passing & enrolled in third grade & met who I believe is one of the best teachers in the entire world: Mrs. Jones. Mrs. Jones knew I was not proficient in English & knew my self-confidence was low, but she forced me to engage in her lessons. However, it was one specific day that changed everything. I was doing math classwork & was just tired. I hadn’t taken a shower due to being homeless (a story for another day) & didn’t eat anything that day.

She came to me & said “Princess, I have so much faith in you & believe you can do this. I know you may be going through some things, but that’s why you have to fight. I can’t help you alone. You also need to contribute & help yourself as well.” With the biggest hug ever, my heart blossomed; I finally felt believed in.

And what became grades of 10’s & 20's turned into 80's & then 90’s. I was quickly learning how to speak English with the motives of getting even with some of my bullies, understanding what was being taught in my classes, & finally making friends that stayed longer than a day. Without that encouragement, without Mrs. Jones & her commitment to making sure I helped myself, I believe I would not be where I am today. I believe I would have been back home in Nigeria.

Now, I am currently 19. I’m a sophomore at SMU, & although it came with a bunch of roadblocks the first year where I just came to classes & went home, I’ve taken more initiatives & talked to so many people that I would not have met if I did not take that first step.

I’m in a hundred organizations, exaggerated of course, & just taking one step at a time. As time has gone by at SMU, I find myself at peace with who I am. I’m crazy, blunt, & just myself. I wouldn’t change my experiences or myself for the world. However, I also know that my story is just the beginning of what is yet to come.

Throughout my life, as you’ve read, I always told myself that it was my fault or I should have been brave in most of the situations I have found myself to be in. I encompassed my own anxiety, shame, & fear onto myself. (Something I hope to encourage you, the readers, not to do).

Instead, what I hope for you to gain from this crazy story is to be strong, to have courage, & to never remain silent no matter what.

Because of my silence not only when getting ambushed by a motorcycle but in my elementary school years, my pain never went away. Even now, it’s still a work in process, but I urge you to open your voice, speak your truth, & be strong.

You are worth it, & your thoughts, your experiences, & your story deserve to be told regardless of how extreme or not you might think it is. I am taking that step to speak my truth & hope you also speak your truth because it’s valid, important, & needed.

Thank you.

If you ever need to talk, laugh, cry, or anything, contact me at pigweicho@smu.edu or slide into my dm’s on Instagram @princess.igweicho.