MMM40. Can you believe it? We actually made it to 40 musings. 🎉
When I started this, I thought I’d maybe squeeze out 10 before running out of steam (or out of patience). Yet here we are — 40 newsletters later, still laughing at the madness, raging at the nonsense, and dancing through the mayhem in sensible shoes.
But let me start with a confession. I get paid to market other people’s brilliance, but when it comes to marketing myself? I get shy! Confusion sets in - what do people want to see - my imposter syndrome voice gets louder and louder. Meanwhile my Clients get shiny decks and polished strategies; I get half-finished drafts and voice notes labelled “post later” that never see the light of day. Funny, but not funny.
Maybe it’s peri-brain, maybe it’s procrastination… either way, it’s done. That era is over.
From here on out, it’s one voice. My voice. Unapologetic. Midlife. Unfiltered.
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Fam, let me start with a confession.
I get paid to market for others, but when it comes to marketing myself? Suddenly I’m the cobbler with no shoes, tiptoeing barefoot through my own ideas. My clients get campaigns, strategies, polished decks; I get voice notes, half-finished drafts, and the eternal excuse: “I’ll post it later.” - later rarely comes.
That ends now.
This — this evolution of myself— isn’t about shinier fonts or a slicker logo. It’s about finally owning my voice across every channel. No more split personalities: strategist here, soft-life auntie there, sarcastic truth-teller everywhere else. Exhausting. Diluting. Done.
From here on out, it’s one voice. My voice. Unapologetic. Midlife. Unfiltered.
Honestly, the timing couldn’t be better. Because the world feels permanently stuck in protest mode.
We’ve got chaos on London’s streets, migrants still treated like suspects, corporations queuing up for their annual Black History Month photo ops, Nigeria blowing out 65 candles while corruption eats the cake, and Gen Z vaping their way into popcorn lungs.
So really, what’s the point of me whispering when the world’s already shouting?
London Protest: What Are We Doing?
Last weekend, London’s streets turned into a theatre of slogans — placards waving, chants ricocheting, racism bold enough to strut without shame.
I was / am disgusted. Far-right mobs make my skin crawl. Racism has no place in British society. Full stop. Yet there it was, bold and unashamed. What’s worse? The silence that followed. No media uproar. No reckoning. White supremacy brushed off like background noise.
Let’s be clear: migrants are not the problem. The real problem sits higher up — an elite hoarding wealth, dodging taxes, and distracting the masses with “the other.”
And without migrants? Britain would collapse in days.
* The NHS would fold — 1 in 6 staff are migrants, 30% of doctors trained abroad.
* The economy would sag — migrants contribute more in taxes than they take in benefits.
* Culture would flatline — no Afrobeats, no curry houses, no Stormzy.
* Even football would limp — Marcus Rashford, Bukayo Saka, Cole Plamer. Gone.
This isn’t new. The Windrush generation answered Britain’s call, only to be treated as trespassers. Kids of migrants in the 80s were taught to shrink: walk behind, avoid eye contact, code-switch to survive.
Fast forward to 2025, and we’re still here. Racism bold in the streets, institutions pretending not to see.
Migrant Realities
That protest energy flows straight into the migrant struggle.
We bring the recipes, the rhythm, the free labour, the NHS shifts, the cultural sauce — and still get treated like uninvited guests at the very party we built.
Britain has selective memory. Post-war rebuilding? They called, and Windrush answered. NHS on its knees? Migrants staffed the wards. Fruit to be picked, labs to be led, tech to be launched? Same story. Who shows up? Migrants. Every single time.
Without us, this island folds quicker than a cheap bra in the wash. The buses wouldn’t run. The hospitals wouldn’t heal. The music would be silent. Dinner? Tragically tasteless and beige.
So when someone says “go back where you came from,” I just laugh
Black History Month (UK): Receipts, Not Hashtags
October is creeping in, and so are the predictable corporate moves: hashtags, stock images, and polished #BLM statements from brands that dont really care and are just ticking off CSR / DEI initiatives if they still have them.
I’ve been here before. In a former job role, I poured my soul into a Black History Month newsletter about racism, erasure, code-switching. People nodded. Then October ended, hashtags faded, and business as usual waltzed back in. That’s the cycle: performative allyship, seasonal diversity, and silence.
I said this then and ill say this now, the rush for brands, businesses and investors all of a sudden showing support to the black during the height of BLM would fall off a cliff, and it did/ it has.
A grassroots social media movement is calling for Black consumers, particularly Black women, to boycott non-Black-owned beauty and hair care retailers starting September 1st. Organisers and influencers are calling for a nationwide boycott, encouraging black consumers to stop purchasing beauty and hair care products that are not black -owned.
The movement gained momentum after TikTok creator @delwboy posted a video that quickly went viral, sparking a powerful conversation about the economics of the Black haircare industry.
Key Goals of this boycott are to redirect spending from major retailers and non-Black-owned brands to Black-owned beauty businesses and to Demonstrate the economic power of Black consumers in the beauty industry
The movement emphasiSes that after many years of black women carrying the hair industry on their backs, WE finally decided to take their economic power back. Black women spend six times more on hair than white women — £88 million in the UK alone. That’s power. That’s leverage. Yet we’re still sidelined, copied, and sold toxic products with a smile.
That’s why this September’s boycott matters. It’s not just about products. It’s about dignity.
We are tired of tokenism. Tired of Black founders being pressured into scaling too fast. Tired of brilliant brands shuttering while corporations steal our ideas.
Sidebar: go listen to Emma Grede’s Aspire podcast episode with Diarrha N’Diaye of Ami Colé. Powerful stuff.
If BLM means anything, it’s this: receipts over rhetoric. Buy Black. Year-round. Amplify, invest, sustain. Don’t cheer resilience while pulling the rug out.
Nigerian Independence Day
Nigeria turns 65. Old enough for a senior railcard, still too young for decent governance.
As part of the diaspora, I carry both pride and frustration. Nigerians are giants: Afrobeats, Nollywood, Chimamanda, Burna Boy, IAMISIGO reshaping fashion.
In the UK, we’re doctors, nurses, teachers, lawyers, athletes, artists. From Anthony Joshua in the ring to Bukayo Saka on the pitch, we don’t just participate — we excel. Britain is richer, sharper, bolder because of us.
And yet, home breaks hearts. Oil, talent, brilliance — squandered by corruption. Displaced people with a country. Nigerians scatter not because we don’t love home, but because home hasn’t loved us back.
Still, hope refuses to die. End SARS 2019 showed a fearless generation — tear-gassed, beaten, silenced, but unbowed. Maybe, like Nepal, Gen Z will take the reins and finally rewrite the story.
One Voice, Moving Forward
So here we are at the end of my musings for now, No more mixed messages just my unfiltered mix of s***s,giggles, thought provoking topics - topped up with humor , some gossip and vulnerability.
So if you’re here for soft life and vibes only, this might not be your stop. But if you’re here for messy truths, cultural clapbacks, and midlife rebellion — welcome home.
Strap in. The mayhem’s just warming up.
Now I want to hear from you. What do you want to see dismantled, celebrated, or dragged into the light? Hit reply, share this with your people, and let’s grow this movement of midlife women who are sick and tired of being sick and tired with a lot to say.
If these musings and others made you laugh or think, or even if you didn’t feel anything which i highly doubt not to toot my own horn…Like it. Comment, Re-stack it. Re-share it. Subscribe if you haven’t already and if you have considered moving up to paid on my substack as your girl would appreciate the coins.
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Love,
Ari x
