For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to people who care deeply about what they do. That’s been one of my identifiers for quality people: do you feel something for your work? Do you care enough to want it to matter? Because doing meaningful work requires you to care. Whether you’re launching a product to make life easier, teaching in a classroom, or writing research to inform policy, you have to believe that what you’re doing holds value—that it can lead to something better. And caring people value themselves and others… But lately, caring feels like a curse. Maybe it always has been, but it’s worse now. Feeling has become heavy. Only those good at compartmentalising (I truly envy you) can stay sane. Because the more conscious you are, the more you notice how little your work seems to matter. How do you keep showing up when everything feels like it’s falling apart? How do you teach justice when injustice is the norm? How do you keep researching when those in power have no intention of using that knowledge? And so my belief that work should be meaningful, which has fueled my career and life, is at this moment also what’s breaking my heart. And bringing me to the brink of a depressive episode. Why am I sharing this here? Well, LinkedIn used to be a space that showcases passion for ones [meaningful] work not just the wins as it seems now. Here we could see insights and growth. But scrolling now, I find that even the shiniest updates carry exhaustion. Beneath the achievements, there’s a quiet despair: our work is losing its meaning. As someone who works on education and social justice for development, I’m increasingly haunted by how disconnected knowledge is from action. We’ve theorized inequality to death. But even the little effort towards implementation we were making (remember all those equity and inclusion statements?) is being undone less than five years later. Because funding. Because politics. Because profit. So I ask: what’s the point of knowledge if those in power won’t use it? If it doesn’t make them money, or if they just don’t care?And this isn’t just academia. Every field, be it business, tech, health, the arts etc. is caught in a battle between purpose and performance, between meaning and metrics. I recently read a paper [my first “just because” academic read in a long while] that asked: Is scholar-activism an oxymoron? The fact that this is even up for debate made me shake my head. Shouldn’t scholarship always have been activism? Not necessarily in the marching sense, but in the pursuit of truth and justice? If not for impact, what’s the point of all this knowledge generation? Are all these citations, all these conferences for vibes?Maybe. Because clearly, we’ve drifted. We’re no longer doing meaningful work. We’re doing measured work. Ranked, rated, reduced. And that, to me, is the real crisis. There’s so much knowledge that could change lives. But who will use it? More importantly, who will be held accountable for not using it? So I’m writing this here because I’ve wondered about my own melancholy over work I chose and genuinely love. But it’s clearer now: as the work loses meaning, so does our vim. And that’s why I’m tired. Deeply, soulfully tired. It’s not normal to witness crisis after crisis and be expected to show up as usual. It’s not normal, and that’s why we’re exhausted. Constantly. I know saying this might not be the most “LinkedIn” thing to do; not here where we’re all high-achieving and always inspired LOL! But we owe ourselves honesty. I’m tired of talking about change and seeing nothing change. What keeps me going is the faint hope that maybe- just maybe- what we do now will matter later. That someone, someday, might stumble upon our work and use it to shift something. Like how that Lizzo song started to trend years after it came out, finally making her famous, maybe the paper we write today might not go anywhere till someone who cares comes to power and uses it for policy tomorrow. That hope… and, of course, the need for a paycheck, is why I keep showing up. If you’re feeling the same- disillusioned, angry, heartbroken… know you’re not alone. I believe there’s quiet a number of us of us out here. We’re trying our best to still care. Even when it doesn’t make sense. Especially then.
A Little Throwback Vlog (Feb 2025)
Back in 2019, while attending a conference in the U.S., an old acquaintance who hosted a Facebook show asked to interview me. He was curious about my feminist views and why I chose to work in Cameroon. Years later, I find myself at a similar crossroads, once again facing the familiar question: “Must you work in Cameroon?” So, I asked the brilliant videographer Glen Amungwa to turn that long-forgotten interview into a vlog. Most of the original recording had never been made public until now.Here it is. Enjoy
Why a Black Pope Isn’t Necessarily Progress—and Why the idea Makes Me Uneasy (May 2025 Blog)
** In the past week, I’ve seen so many posts and comments from contacts eagerly awaiting the results of the ongoing Papal Conclave, hoping for a Black pope. A few days ago, I shared my own unpopular opinion on the matter: I really would prefer the new pope not be Black. First off, it’s not because I agree with the white nationalist nonsense about not wanting “a DEI Pope.” Far from it—I absolutely detest that thinking. But I know that if one of the Black or Asian contenders were chosen, there would be backlash. Many would assume that diversity politics had somehow “won” over tradition, and that assumption alone would make life harder for the new pope. If you’ve ever been a diversity hire for anything, you know how much pressure such a pope would face to constantly “prove” themselves. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I should also note that I’m not Catholic, though, thanks to a few years of Catholic schooling, I’m somewhat familiar with Catholic doctrine. My issue here isn’t with Catholicism as a faith, but with the Catholic Church as an institution. Christianity, to me, is about your relationship with God, your faith, and your communion with Christ. But being the head of the Catholic Church isn’t just a spiritual role—it’s leading a system that, despite its spiritual mission, has a long history of aiding, abetting or actively partaking in the marginalising of historically oppressed groups. The recently deceased pope acknowledged some of these flaws and made attempts to address them, and I believe he managed to do so because he was white. A Black or Asian pope, on the other hand, would face far more scrutiny for taking similar steps. Either way, putting a Black person at the head of that system right now wouldn’t magically fix its issues. Instead, it would force that person to defend the system’s history of abuse of people who look like them. My perspective on this comes from seeing this happen elsewhere. It’s not just about the Catholic Church. We see this pattern every time women, Black people, or other marginalised groups are put in positions of power without any real systemic change to the institution they now represent. The problem with simply placing a minority or someone with a marginalised identity in a leadership role is that it often ends up being symbolic, representation without transformation. Worse still, if that person isn’t critically conscious of their position and the institution’s flaws, they can end up perpetuating the very harms they were supposed to challenge. Think about it: what real power would a Black pope have to address the Catholic Church’s problematic history? What repercussions would they face if they actually tried to dismantle the system’s oppressive structures? Isn’t it more likely that they’d end up serving as a convenient shield for the institution—a way for the Church to claim progress without addressing the root issues? We see this in other contexts. For instance, the current UK Foreign Minister is Black, but has that meant more critically conscious foreign policy decisions that address the UK’s role in marginalising the majority of the world’s Black and brown people? Has it made him more likely to discuss reparations? I don’t think so. Likewise, in Cameroon, appointing Anglophones to high government positions hasn’t solved the Anglophone problem. It’s not just about whether marginalised people hold office—it’s about whether the system itself becomes more inclusive and just. Putting an Anglophone in a position of power doesn’t automatically fix the systemic issues. Sometimes, that person even becomes the face of the very problem they’re supposed to be solving. My work with feminist advocacy taught me this the hard way. We push for women to enter certain leadership roles because representation matters. But I’d rather see a feminist man in a position of power than a woman who doesn’t care about women’s issues. That feminist man will know when to step back and make space. Meanwhile, a woman who does not acknowledge patriarchy and its dangers might uphold the same harmful norms, or do even worse because she feels pressured to prove herself. Diversity, equity, and inclusion can’t just be about changing faces at the top. We need to acknowledge that the real problem is systemic and what the odds are for that person to change that system, because racism, sexism, ageism, ableism, and other biases are embedded in these institutions; they are the knots and bolts of the tables we so want to have a seat at. So, while I understand the desire for a Black pope, I’m wary. True progress means tackling the system itself, not just changing the face of leadership. Without that, we’re just setting up marginalised leaders to fail—or worse, become the face of the very practices they were supposed to challenge. ** This was written shortly before the announcement of the new pope.
May 2024 Musings: Of travelling and choosing home
This past May, I had my first-ever real vacation.As in, the reason on my visa application was written out clearly as VACATION/TOURISM. There was no conference or work trip I was going for and I would then benefit from for some extra days of visiting… this was deliberately planned enjoyment! Such a win for the Year of No and doing less! I must say getting a visa with the reason being ‘vacation’ felt like a huge win; although there was a small “chakara” (pidgin for upheaval) during the interview and a minute where it seemed like family history would affect the decision, the final decision was positive and made me feel like “finally, these people know I don’t want to go and stay in their country sef!” Previous academic travel history and tendency to return home finally counted for something. Anyway, I got the visa, took all my annual leave days and planned to deliberately enjoy for a month in the U.S. As with any life event, there were lessons to be drawn from this U.S. Trip I thought to share. Unlearning is required for rest. We should all aspire to have American Audacity Choosing Home As I write these lessons from vacation, I think the last line of the above point is the real takeaway. Rest and travel are such a privilege that must be appreciated; you can only really “choose home” when you’ve had an option. You can only truly rest when you’re not actively being oppressed. In honour of those who can’t live fully, whose life was taken from them too soon, whose access has been denied, who are trapped. Please live. Don’t cut off your own wings, don’t limit yourself.
On one of the days, I remember I love what I do…
What is Life Teaching You Now?
Here is another vlog where I discuss what I’m learning in this season of life; about taking the everyday mundane as what we’re living for, planning for death in addition to living like it is you’re last week, and realizing that your best version of yourself may not be who you were meant to be. Watch and let me know your thoughts, I would also love to hear from you. What is life teaching you now?
2024 My Year Of No? (Dec 2023 Blog)
It has become a tradition of mine to have a theme for the year; a word or phrase that speaks of my intention for the new chapter. It is not a resolution but a word that captures what I hope will be an undercurrent of my actions throughout the year. Still, I think this past year was my first ‘successful’ realization of a ‘thematic year’. Not because I ‘achieved a lot’ but because it was the most intentional I have been with a theme. See when I declared 2023 my Year of Self-Love, I outlined how I would take steps to finally love the body I’m in, to truly love myself. E.g. 1- Loving myself by doing things the self loves e.g taking swimming lessons. 2- Loving self by investing in mental health treatments more than ever. 3- Loving self by giving away all the clothes that no longer fit and getting new clothes that do. 4- Loving self by gifting myself the way I gift others, by asking for help and delegating what t I cannot do. 5- Loving self by getting to know the one who made me – God – and drawing myself worth from Him etc. The above are just a few ways I intentionally sought to live out the theme I declared, and to an extent, the year of self-love worked. I became better at the swimming I loved doing- even swan in the deep end for the first time, I entered a New Covenant with Yahweh last year, I bought myself a brand new phone for the first time last year, I even dared to remove the enlargement of my Boudoir shoot photo it’s in my bedroom but at least no longer hidden… Yet some things remain the same. At the junctures of my year of self-love, I hated myself as ever before or more than ever before. As much as I was proud of loving myself enough to openly ask for help, I still hated that I needed to keep asking for help. Another way my thematic practice was different this past year lies in the fact that this was the first year that I assessed the theme. I intentionally looked back at what I had been doing towards that theme and whether I could see changes or not. And perhaps because I did that reflection, I could appreciate that working on self-love as someone who struggles with that area cannot be limited to a year or any timeframe for that matter. The greatest success of the year of self-love therefore was coming to accept that this struggle might be never-ending; it took 30 years to internalize the reasons and ways I dishonor myself, and it won’t be healed in a year, no matter how much I do differently. It is also as a result of the above reflection that I can go into making a theme for this year more intentionally than ever. As we usher in a New Year and I declare a new theme for 2024, I am aware that the old theme has not been “done and dusted”. My declaration of this year as “my Year of No” is, in fact, an extension of last year’s theme of Year of Self-love. How so? This year, with this theme, I am declaring an intention to love myself better and more by doing less so I can heal. One thing that has come through clearly in the past years has been how burn-out, depression and years of pent-up issues all came ahead to break me between 2020 and 2022. However, I kept thinking I could just push through it, and try harder. So I have shamed myself for not being as I was before; as committed to goals, as disciplined, as attractive as talented etc. But shaming does nothing but fuel the depressive episodes. I think what finally got me to think differently was trying on the idea of a Year of No; when I first considered it everything in my being protested. Do I deserve a year of NO when the last 2-3 years have been my most unproductive? Shouldn’t I be trying to achieve goals, and check off to-do list items that have been languishing on my Google Keep for ages? But then I saw this quote: “You’ve been beating up yourself for years and it hasn’t worked, try giving yourself grace and see what happens”. As I have nothing to lose at this point, I think I’ll try the reverse psychology. I’m permitting myself to fail at doing and being it all. In fact, you can’t fail at what you were never meant to do: so this year I want to try having as little to nothing on the to-do list to shame myself for ‘failing’ at. I give myself permission to do nothing but hibernate. I want to rediscover reading for fun. What does a Year of No entail you might wonder? Well, in 2017, when I declared my Year of Yes, I said yes to every opportunity that came my way. I said yes to trying over and over again. I stopped limiting myself to what I wanted (e.g a distance learning PhD) and said yes to whatever I was offered. That was the season for that. This season is different and I must acknowledge that even if I don’t like it. So in this season, I’ll say more no’s or respond with not now, maybe later. I will avoid taking up any additional tasks; no more signing up for things and then asking God for the strength to do them. No more asking for more strength when the body has made it clear it wants to rest. This article gives a great idea of what declaring A Year of No may entail for others… This might sound counterintuitive. And I admit it reeks of privilege. Yet, I am willing to live out this privilege with gratitude. I have found I must question the desire
Oct 2023: More Birthday Reflections
It’s another October and my birthday has come to pass. I recall when I was turning 30, I wrote a blog post about how I am no longer adding things on a “to-be list”, but rather things I want to undo… I didn’t have the concept of ‘unlearning’ in my vocabulary or my mind yet. That blog seems a bit foretelling now. Perhaps we really should be careful with our declarations; since then I have been in a loop of unlearning. This year I officially checked off 34 and started the 35th trip around the sun. All I can think of is what I’d like to re-learn given all the unlearning I have done and continue to do. The truth is, I’ve been doing the bare minimum for the past two years; for the most part, I’ve just been trying to survive my own mind. I can hear someone say “Hmm na your own bare minimum this?” And the answer is yes. I know what I’m capable of, what I can do when I feel driven when I believe it matters, when I believe I matter… I’ve not done close to that in a while. Perhaps it’s the burnout from years of hardcore mode (actually, this is very likely it). But knowing you’re burned out doesn’t make you feel better about being unproductive. The past 2 years have been some of my most unproductive. I’m not saying this as a “humble brag”. I know some people won’t get it, and I know my sister-friends will be like “You’re too hard on yourself Monique” and perhaps they’re right, but I’m also thinking critically 🤷🏾♀️ And if I’m being very honest anything I’ve enjoyed from March 2021 till date is somehow the fruit of the work I did in my 20s. I’ve been saying ‘thank you’ to the version of Monique who did so much in her 20s that this version of Monique can get away with doing so little in her 30s. But it’s a bittersweet thank you because despite all that version did she couldn’t fix some major issues… And now 2 years out of my ‘top form’, I’m wondering: As I consider how much I have to be grateful to younger Monique, I am considering what I should be relearning as much as I unlearn. So that older Monique will be able to say similar “thanks” for the current version of me in future. Here’s my shortlist of things I must re-learn: 1. I must re-learn reading for fun of it. 2. I must re-learn imagination without restrictions; such as how it never bothered me that ever character in my favorite version of Cinderella was a different race. Such as how I loved watching “The Magic School Bus” 3. I must re-learn asking for help and expecting it to come 4. I must re-learn curiosity about who I am and who I want to be, what makes me fun 5. And I must re-learn the novelty of dreaming… asking myself again “who do I want to be when I grow up?” What made me lose these things, growing up? How then do I “grow down”?
Nov 2023: Looking Back at the Year of Self-Love
At the start of this year, I vowed to make this my year of self-love. I have struggled with self-esteem issues all my life and this year I got sick of it. For context, I was coming out of a long bout of clinical depression where I had regained a great deal of weight I lost and through therapy was finding that there were layers to the depressive feelings. The process of healing is often rough and hard and lonely- we don’t talk enough about that. I decided that something had to give this year. In this month’s vlog, I talk through the efforts made towards self-love and where I think I am now- in sum, still trying.
Sept 2023: Healing My Writing Soul
A recently unlocked memory is of the day my O’ Level GCE results were read. The year was 2006, I had convinced my mom to let me go visit a friend who lived in Baffoussam. It was my first real trip away from home initiated by me. It helped that the said friend was our Senior prefect in school and hence they assumed she was a responsible friend LOL! Anyway, when my results were made known to my family, a plethora of congratulatory calls came in. In the course of one such call, my aunty asked me the age-old question “So what do you want to be when you grow up?” Monique opened her mouth and said ” I want to be a writer” LOL! Did I know what I was saying? I didn’t (ugh! I miss that hopeful naive me), I did however know that books were saving my sanity at that time. Books were giving me solace and places to escape and teaching me better about the world and other humans than my teachers… and so I wanted to be a writer, to create that escape for someone else. I have written about the development of myself as a writer elsewhere (see here) but that was before experiencing the Anglophone Crisis that helped me narrow down my writing voice and writing soul so-to-speak. That was also way before multiple experiences made my writing voice, soul and dreams shrivel up to near death. Like most things, gifts don’t die suddenly nor all at once; they weather away. In 2020, I wrote a poem about no longer being able to write- it sounds ironical I know- but it was me perceiving and reporting the weathering. The loss that was already happening. I wrote the above poems 3+ years into the Anglophone Crisis and 2+ years into a horrible ‘situationship’. Both experiences made me lose my faith in the power of words, my writing and writing in general. So many of my articles were on the Crisis and those who read them were not those who needed to, those who needed to read and be moved do not read. Similarly, so many of my poems were love poems for someone who read them but would still not be moved/understand enough to reciprocate, to love me back. So I stopped writing. After all, I thought, what good was bleeding in words when the people just watched you bleed like it was a sport you enjoyed playing? And was I even writing ‘right’ if it didn’t move people to action if it didn’t reach the right ears/eyes, win the heart I yearned for? No, I thought. And so I stopped. Several years later, I recognize that reaction as a trauma response and regret giving up my gift. Stopping had its consequences. That kind of thinking- that other people’s actions or inaction depended on how well I wrote or did not write- fed my already bad case of perfectionism. And so here I am with a book deal unable to write. Struggling to believe in the power of words again. Forcing myself to write blog posts even if they’re months late. I’m praying for the gift to return, hoping its like riding a bicycle or swimming- a skill your body remembers. This time, when I say “I want to be a writer”, I know what I’m talking about. I have a better ‘why’, so I pray the gift returns.