The Evolution of the Ice Queen

When someone mentions ‘Ice Queen’, you might immediately picture Frozen’s Elsa- long blonde hair, blue dress, all the makings of a princess and a touch that turns everything to ice. You would probably never picture a smiling, dark-skinned Nigerian girl. But I have been said to be somewhat of an Ice Queen- not in those exact words but you can decipher from the general description- “You’ve built a wall around yourself…”, “You don’t let people in…”, you know, the works.

I never pictured myself as an Elsa so it seemed that people had a perception problem… Or I had an attitude problem. You see, I was the kind of person who would only have to give the ‘irresponsible’ guys one stare before they backed off. Those guys who would pull your arm in the market and call you all sort of names from ‘my colour’ to ‘my sister’, they were no match for the icy glare. And those ones who would walk up to you with saggy pants and oversized egos to ask for your number were not even dignified with an answer. Once I decided that a conversation with you would be uncomfortable because we probably held different world views, you were cancelled. Now you must understand that this cancellation wasn’t consciously executed. I did not even know that I was performing this ‘responsibility scan’, I just realised that one moment someone was approaching me and the next, he was a recipient of the icy glare.

I now realise that I always put people in boxes because I had never known not to. Growing up should have come with some sort of manual, really, because I just was very vindictive towards the male species for no reason. My childhood wasn’t troubled, my father and every male figure in my life were extremely kind to me, so where did I develop my attitude from? It was probably a spill-over from my self-righteous moralist days, a distortion of my mother’s well-meaning pieces of advice or -horror of horrors!- an internalisation of the lessons learnt from the Nollywood movies I watched while growing up. It could have been one or a combination of these three but I had to finally concede that Elsa existed.

Then, I had to live with one of the ‘unsuitables’; one who I had treated to the silent treatment, icy glare, unlooking game and even added a scathing remark to boot, all because he dared touch me on the first day we met. But this ‘unsuitable’ proved me wrong; he took all my theories and debunked them. While my initial perception of him was true- he drank too excessively, partied too hard and had an endless line of women parade through the apartment we shared with 5 other people- I was also wrong on many counts. He was the guy who would send his sister pocket money when he did not have to, cook for us totally unprovoked (his housemates), help carry my bags, and just do things we never expected him to do. Yup, I wasn’t the only one judging him. He was smart, industrious, caring and easy to talk to; this unsuitable was actually a nice guy!

One other person helped tear down my theories. She was the manual I wish I had while I was growing up. She would treat everyone with the same measure of kindness and warmth and they would, in turn, respect her and maintain boundaries. While I was cutting people down with my ice swords, she was leaving people felled with warmth and love.

These people helped me understand that first impressions are not usually the best impressions. I slowly came to the realisation that people are not black and white- no one is completely bad and no one is completely good. Sometimes, we have to look past terribly deceptive fronts to see the treasure that could very well be hidden on the inside.

Now, I am in the market, smiling at ‘My colours’ and brokering mind-blowing bargains. I’m greeting strangers like they are my long lost relatives. I’m holding conversations with ‘unsuitables’ by the side of the road and I’m seriously wondering, ‘Where did Elsa go?’

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