Steem4Nigeria Accelerator Contest Week 96: This is Me

Hello beautiful Steemians,
It’s always a joy to be part of the vibrant Steem4Nigeria family, a space that gives people like me the courage to share our stories, heal, and grow. I’m deeply grateful for this opportunity to tell my truth and show you the fire that fuels my journey.

A big thank you to our amazing host @sahmie and the Steem4Nigeria team for always inspiring us through creative, meaningful contests that push us to reflect, connect, and shine. Your efforts are helping young writers like me rise from the shadows and find our voices.

This Is Me :The Student Who Refused to Break

People see the girl, but they don’t see the hunger.
They admire the student, but they don’t see the suffering.
They see the smile, but they don’t know it’s hiding a war.

I’m Juliet. A daughter of grace. A product of pain. A survivor of storms.
I didn’t come from wealth. I came from willpower.
I’ve sat in classrooms with empty stomachs. I’ve done assignments by candlelight.
I’ve begged silently in prayers no one heard.
But even when I was forgotten by the world, I refused to forget who I was becoming.

What’s Something That Always Makes Me Smile?

It’s not luxury that makes me smile. It’s the little victories.

When I remember how far I’ve come without giving up, my lips curve upward even when my heart is heavy.
I smile because I know what it feels like to almost drop out, yet show up for class like everything is fine.
I smile because despite the tears, the hunger, the shame, I stayed.

The world doesn’t know the pain I covered with those smiles.
But God knows.
And I know.
And that’s enough.

Every time I laugh with friends, walk boldly through campus, or answer “present” during roll call, it’s not just attendance, it’s triumph.
That smile? It’s survival in disguise.

What’s My Favorite Way to Spend a Day Off?

On my day off, I don’t go to beaches or parties, I go within.

I find the quietest corner, curl up with a pillow, and rest my bones and my heart.
Because being strong every day is exhausting.
Because pretending to be okay drains more than tears.
So I sleep. I reflect. I talk to God without words.
I replay memories. I whisper to my younger self: “You’re doing well. You’re healing.”

Sometimes I write. Sometimes I cry.
Sometimes I do absolutely nothing and that’s okay.

That’s my peace. My recovery.
My pause before I rise again.

What Skill Would I Love to Learn?

I want to learn how to braid hair and make wigs.
To others, it might sound like just a trade.
But to me? It’s power. It’s purpose. It’s personal.

I want to build something with my hands, something beautiful, something useful.
I want a skill I can carry even when the world fails me.
A craft that gives me income, confidence, and identity.

No more begging. No more borrowing.
I want to become the girl who not only survived but thrived.
Braiding and wig-making would help me walk into that version of myself, head held high.

Because this hand that once wiped tears?
It’s time it started building dreams.

What Am I Grateful For?

There are people who walk into your life like angels wearing flesh.

When I couldn’t pay my school fees, when everything looked like the end, my pastor stepped in and paid it all.
He didn’t ask why. He didn’t question my story. He just helped.
And that one act reminded me:
Even when the world forgets you, heaven remembers.

I’m grateful for every person who gave me a chance without knowing my pain.
I’m grateful for God who covered me when I had nothing but hope.

And I’m grateful for myself.
For choosing to rise. For choosing not to give up.
For holding on, even when my hands were shaking.

Gratitude is not just a feeling for me — it’s a survival tool.
It keeps me grounded.
It keeps me going.

What’s My Favorite Memory of Myself?

The days I didn’t break. The days I had every reason to give up,but didn’t.
The nights I cried myself to sleep because I was too ashamed to ask for help, but still woke up and went to class.

One day, I walked 45 minutes to school under the sun, just to save ₦100.
That same day, I passed a quiz everyone else failed.
I remember how my classmates laughed and celebrated.
They had no idea I hadn’t eaten that morning.
That moment is burned in my memory, because it proved I was stronger than even I thought.

I carry those memories like medals. Not because they were joyful but because I earned every scar, every success, every silent win.

That’s my favorite version of me:
The girl who kept going.

This Is Me
Not a victim, even though I’ve suffered.
Not a weak girl, even though I’ve cried.
Not a quitter, even though life gave me reasons to stop.
The student who fought her way through school with grit and grace.
The girl who turned hunger into hustle, shame into strength, pain into power.
The one who will one day braid crowns for queens and feed families from her own hands.
And no matter how long the night is, I’m still chasing my sunrise.
Sun-blessed Pen. Battle-tested soul. And I’m just getting started

I Invite to join this wonderful contest
@tempestinyang
@ukpono
@jemilatbuhari