How I Became a Lesbian

Written by Editorial Staff

Editorial Staff is a team of writers and editors trusted by over 50.3 million readers from Northern Nigeria

December 19, 2021

Hello, beautiful people of Arewa, this is a real-life story of Tata.

My name is Tata Bala, I live in Kaduna state Nigeria, and am the only child of my parents. I can’t say how and when I started digging this ditch that almost led to my death. But, I can only tell you that while at it, I didn’t make the smart choice of staying outside it while I dug.

I remember my first day at my secondary school. I remember how innocent I was back then— innocent, but very curious. My insatiable curiosity back then and even as a child was the glarest feature I possessed, which oftentimes got me into trouble. Interestingly, I was always exploring and trying new things which were just unbelievable like different food combinations during the first few weeks I was there—I won’t stop snooping around.

Also, whenever I saw something fishy that ticked my 6th sense of curiosity, I was sure to follow and find out whether it was something I could try or not. Hence, it didn’t take long for me to learn about the various activities going on within the hostels and even outside. This includes the secret intake of alcoholic drinks by the seniors, the sneaking out of the school through the fence by both senior and junior girls to attend parties and get laid, and of course lesbian activities.

However, I won’t drink or sneak out of the school because even with my childish brain, I knew my parents would skin me alive if they ever found out. Subsequently, before the end of my first term in the school, I was adopted by one of the seniors who wanted me as her ‘school daughter’ — the beautiful senior Kareemah. Senior Kareemah exercised her seniority to get everything done for me; she made my mates and even my seniors who were at that time her juniors wash my dirty uniforms, do my portion, she even bathed me. In essence, I enjoyed my JS1 days because my school mummy spoiled me.

Furthermore, upon resumption for 2nd term in JS1, senior Kareemah moved me into her corner. Thereafter, She’d cover the entire bunk with a blanket draping from the up bunk to make it impossible for eyes to see what’s happening inside her corner. This coverage enabled her to touch me all over and ask me to do the same to her. I will spare you the details.

At first, I can’t say I felt anything other than discomfort when she did that, but I didn’t object to it, I obeyed. Oftentimes, she will keep me up late at night and I’ll wake up the next morning feeling all sore and tired. Anyways, I had no worries since she could get someone to do my portion and I didn’t even have to bathe myself. So, I had all the time to study because everything else was taken care of by my school mum. Hence, I always went back home with colourful results and no one suspected anything at home.

Unfortunately, by the time I wrote my JSSCE exams, I was already saying goodbye to school mum number 3 and was fully aware of what the touching and all was—I felt every single one of the acts. So, when I started ss1 I was bored of being chased and started chasing my own ‘daughter’ and ‘darling’. Yes, we courted girls like us the way boys court girls; we bought gifts, do all the sweet-talking, and fall in love (or so we thought).

Anyway,  I got so addicted to lesbianism by the time I got into SS2 and I couldn’t go more than two days without getting down. During the holidays I’ll meet up with my ‘darling’ in her home or mine and indulge the urge behind closed doors and the circle continues. Sadly, when that became impossible I’d just hide in my room and touch myself— it worsened by the day.

This continued even after girls’ college but it took a different turn against me. I went from being happy about my escapades to just being desperate; even after getting down I felt so unsatisfied and unhappy, I found myself growing increasingly miserable by the day.

Subsequently, my darling from secondary school got married during our third year in the university and so my frustration grew—don’t get me wrong, the marriage didn’t stop us from continuing our little dirty secret affair. But, I was frustrated because I was sharing her with her husband now. As time went by, I grew more frustrated, almost depressed; I’d cry when my darling Juju’s husband was around and we couldn’t meet and I needed some more. So, I’d cry after doing it myself and I don’t feel satisfied, sometimes I’d just cry because of nothing.

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My parents started suspecting I was having problems with my academics and they started asking questions but I always answered in the negative. My mom thought I was having boyfriend problems in school and decided to have a mother-to-daughter discussion about boys and relationships—a little too late although I listened with deaf ears, of course, because boys were far from the reason behind my frustration.

Afterward, I didn’t know what happened, but Juju later realized that what we were doing was wrong in the sight of both God and man. So, my darling decided to break up with me and advised me to turn a new leaf too. But oh how deep I was in my bubble of immorality, I couldn’t understand let alone accept what she was suggesting—I was lost.

After that incident with juju, I became very aggressive; I snapped at every little thing, my grades dropped like no man’s business and was soon withdrawn in my final year in the university.

The day I returned home was the darkest for my parents, it was the first day I ever saw my father’s tears (but not the last). Of course, their disappointment in me was similar to them ordering vanilla cake and getting served chocolate cake in return– they were shattered. Anyway, I only felt the impact of their confusion for a little while, because I needed to be satisfied.

I waited impatiently for night to fall so I could get down to business, on the other hand, my mother waited patiently for night to fall, so she could talk to me and find out what was disorienting me. Sadly, that very night God’s willing, I forgot to lock my door before getting to ‘it’ and so my mum walked in on me, naked, right in the middle of it. I didn’t even hear her come in, it was the loud mournful scream she let out that brought me back into my senses— my father who was close by rushed in to see what the problem was and I swear my whole world came crashing at that very moment.

Immediately, my mum who already had a high BP(blood pressure) fainted and was rushed to the hospital, my father won’t even look at me. I wished the ground would just open and swallow me. What have I done?

A week passed without a word from my father, who had spoken to juju (my closest friend to them) and she didn’t hide anything from him. However, my mother had clearly stated that she doesn’t want to see me near her hospital bed. Anyway, my father confided in his friend who in turn advised my parents to send me to a professional to seek psychological help— a shrink.

Furthermore, one morning, my father came to tell me to tie a straight wrapper, wear a t-shirt and pack another set like that alongside my toiletries because I was traveling, I obeyed. The men who had come to get me were all seated in the parlour, each wearing a maka wuya over his shoulders, and holding long prayer beads.

“Muje ko?” they all chorused as they stood up. At that moment, I turned to look at my father, to at least tell him I was sorry and to seek his forgiveness but he had his back against me, so I just left.

I journeyed with those men to Katsina state, where I thought I was going to get help from a professional psychologist. However, little did I know, I was going to a local/traditional correction home ‘Gidan Mari’ to get that much-needed help. Life at

Gidan Mari was very difficult but corrective (I will spare you the details). But, I didn’t leave there until I was able to recite the complete Qur’an and no iota of lesbianism was left in my heart – I suffered in the home, but it was worth it.

Subsequently, I returned to my parents who had forgiven me even before they decided to send me to Gidan Mari, nonetheless, I still asked for their forgiveness. Now, lesbianism is very addictive and like every other addiction, can push one to do the most despicable things just to satisfy that evil urge.

Conclusively, I hope you’ve learned from the story of Tata. In addition, may God Almighty help us live a good life, and may God protect our children in all fields of life from the evils of this world.

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