My Journey to a PhD: A Celebration with Oprah

I behaved badly.

I bought a ticket. Not just any ticket—a ticket to see Oprah in Auckland.

I was half-asleep on the couch, eyelids heavy, body sinking.
I dragged myself upstairs, ready to collapse into bed.

The plan was simple: set my alarm, put the phone down, rest.

But then—I saw it.

An advert for Oprah’s show this December.
And just like that, my sleep disappeared.

It took me back to the 90s—my weekly sessions with Oprah,
a Black woman on prime-time television, staring down the haters,
showing the world what was possible.

Heart racing. Fingers flying.
I started searching for tickets.
The best seats were gone,
so I settled for the second row.

I’m calling this splurge my confirmation present.

Because—yes—
I am now officially a PhD candidate.

Who would have thought?

From a little girl whose parents weren’t sure she’d survive,
to a woman, a mum, and now this.
The girl from Oporoma—Nun River, Nigeria.

I remember my father’s younger brother laughing at him
for sending me to a private school.
“Why waste all that money on a girl?” he said.

But my dad saw my potential.

In a world where patriarchy looms over me,
my sisters, friends, and grandmothers,
education has been my sanctuary—
a place to define myself,
especially under a predominantly white gaze.

I’m grateful for the women who walk beside me:
my supervisors, Associate Professor Kirstine Moffat
and Dr. Tracey Slaughter—
true legends championing this journey.

And for my ancestral grandmothers,
like Phillis Wheatley—the first African American woman to read, write, and publish poetry.

Thank you, Dad. Your faith in me still lights my way.

Now, the real work begins.

But first—a field trip to Ayrshire, Sheffield, Oxford, Birmingham, London, Stockholm, Västerås, and Nigeria.

I can’t wait.

To any woman reading this blog, you are valuable, you are more than enough.