I grew up in a house where roles were quietly, but firmly, divided. The kind of home where cooking wasn’t just something women did — it was what defined them. We had help for almost everything else — cleaning, laundry, even the cars — but cooking? That was sacred. That was women’s territory. My mother cooked no matter what. Whether she was exhausted, sick, or...

What Women Often Miss About Men A deeper look into the inner world of men—and the invisible burdens they carry. What if the silence that follows most men isn’t emptiness, but something too heavy for words? In this brief article, we explore the quiet truths many men carry through life. It’s not an attack on women, nor is it a complaint. It’s an invitation to see,...

The Truth Behind What You're Really Asking There’s something undeniably touching about being seen, really seen. Especially when it happens through a fleeting moment: a late-night voice note shared online, a candid photo, a caption that feels like home. You catch a glimpse of someone else’s connection and think, “I want that.” And so, you reach out. Maybe with a DM....

I was barely out of kindergarten the first time someone told me to think like a wife. I was seven. Just seven. Complaining about the onions in my food when my aunt threw out, “What if your husband likes onions?”Husband? At seven? I was more worried about cartoons and scraped knees, not a man’s food preferences. But that was the seed—the beginning of a long, uninvited...

There’s a particular kind of pain that comes from watching someone you care about struggle in a way you can’t fix. Not just a bad mood or a rough day. Not the kind of thing they can rant about and move on. I’m talking about the heavy stuff. The buried hurt. The silent battles they can’t quite put into words—or don’t want to. And you’re left standing...

Let me take you back to a hot Monday morning—University of Nairobi, my first day on campus. Admissions were happening at Taifa Hall. The crowd? Madness. The line stretched endlessly. People were sweating, confused, half-lost. Me? I was standing there clutching a brown envelope like it held the keys to heaven, wondering whether I was at the right faculty desk, or if I’d be told,...