A Journey of Grief, Resilience, and the Power of Storytelling
Bolatito Adebayo, a journalist and author, opens up about her journey through grief, resilience, and the quiet battles that shape a woman’s life. From losing her mother to the long wait for a child, she shares how stories became her lifeline—a way to heal, empower, and give voice to those too often unheard.
Who Am I Beyond My Professional Titles?
If I were to categorize myself based on my character traits, I can’t call myself an introvert or an extrovert. I think I am a blend of both worlds; an ambivert. An ambivert’s behavior can change depending on the situation, mood, or the people they are with. Honestly, I enjoy peace more than noise and loudness. I’m that loyal friend you never have to worry about; even when we fall apart, your secrets are safe with me. I love reading, and I enjoy music. I am sensitive, and I tend to process things too deeply; I think that’s one of my flaws. I’m not perfect, and I make mistakes too. Like every book I have read, I see life as a series of unfolding chapters, each one teaching, stretching, and shaping me into who I’m meant to be.
What Early Experiences Shaped Me?
Many moments shaped me, but my mother’s death two years ago changed my perspective on life. In her absence, I learned strength the hard way, the kind that comes from showing up for yourself when the person who always did is no longer there. Her loss taught me tenderness too: how to love deeply, treasure moments, and see people with softer eyes. It made me more aware of time, purpose, the legacy we leave behind, and how we care for others.
Her loss pushed me to take better care of myself; now I exercise five times a week and eat healthier. It taught me to celebrate people while they are alive, not when they are gone. My mum died a few months after we celebrated her 70th birthday, and she was so happy. Lastly, her death made me realize I could question God. Yes, I asked God some questions when I was an emotional wreck, and He gave me every detailed answer I needed. So, I don’t believe the phrase, “Who are we to question God?” I’m His child, and when a child needs clarity, she asks questions. Losing my mum didn’t just leave a void; it carved space for growth.
The Thread Connecting My Roles
The common denominator is intentional storytelling. Journalism taught me to listen and find meaning in other people’s stories. Writing gave me the freedom to reflect and weave emotion and experience into something that heals or inspires. Advocacy reminds me why it matters; stories can shape societies, give courage, and remind people they’re not alone.
In my latest book, Queen of Tracks, a fictional story woven around menstrual health education and period poverty, the goal is to give voice to the unseen and remind people, especially young girls, that their stories matter. Queen of Tracks became a continuation of that mission: to empower, to heal, and to remind us that even when life slows us down, we are still on track; still becoming, still worthy, still enough.
Who Inspired Me?
As a child, I wanted to become an astronaut, but maths showed me “shege” (laughs), and I changed course. I read a lot, and I was inspired by those stories. I was fascinated by how words could travel from one heart to another and change something inside you. I remember the first time I found Song of Solomon in the Bible; I wanted to write love poems like that. I would sit down and phrase my own words for a crush I had then (laughs), though I never had the courage to give them to him. At the time, I didn’t even know writing a poem was a thing.
As a teenager, I watched MEE and You Show, and I wanted to be like the presenter, May Ellen Mofe-Damijo. I also read her write-ups. Although I never went into broadcast journalism, she inspired me deeply, and when she died, I was devastated, like I knew her personally. Over the years, many people have inspired me, but the common thread is this: I was drawn to people who stood for something, who turned pain into purpose and silence into song.
Challenges I’ve Overcome
Mine was battling infertility. I love children, and in church, I worked in the children’s department even before I got married. You needed to see my bridal train; I had two little bridesmaids, and every child in church was on that train. Then I got married, and everything went quiet. One year, two, three, four, five… for seven years, there was no cry of a child. That experience inspired my first book, The Waiting Room. However, with God on my side, the support of a wonderful husband, and science, I overcame and had my son after seven years of waiting. It wasn’t easy walking through a season of silence, unanswered prayers, and infertility, but I didn’t just come out of it with a child; I came out with lessons of courage, resilience, and unshakeable faith.
Doubts and Pushing Through
Absolutely. Battling infertility tested parts of me I didn’t even know existed. It wasn’t just my body that felt tired; my spirit did too. There were moments I questioned everything: my faith, my strength, my future. Moments when giving up felt easier than believing one more time. What helped me push through? Faith, grace, family, and good friends.
Human Stories That Moved Me
That would be the story of the girl with a hole in her heart. I can’t remember her name now, maybe it was Ifunaya, but I remember her beautiful, innocent eyes. Her mother reached out to me where I worked. Thankfully, many people responded to her story. We received donations from different people and a large sum from a group of friends who worked in an oil company. The young girl went into surgery and survived. Every time I remember her, I hope and pray she is alive, healthy, and safe.
Writing as Passion or Purpose
Writing started quietly, as a way to make sense of emotions I couldn’t speak out loud. In the beginning, it was pure passion, the simple joy of turning feelings into words, of creating something that outlived the moment.
Themes I’m Drawn To
I’m naturally drawn to themes that mirror the contours of my own life: resilience, womanhood, identity, loss, healing, and the quiet power of hope. I write about the spaces between struggles and triumph because I’ve lived there. For instance, the main character, Moladun, in Queen of Tracks, walks through those liminal spaces. That place where faith is tested, where endurance grows, where silence speaks louder than words; that is where many of my stories begin.
Has Writing Healed Me?
Yes, it has. Like I mentioned earlier, I am quiet and don’t talk much, but I freely express some of my thoughts through my characters. Writing has given me hope and carried me through seasons when nothing else could.
Responsibility of Writers
Of course we do. They say you are what you read. Writers have great influence over their readers. We don’t just tell stories; we hold mirrors. We help people see themselves, understand others, and question the world around them. Words can build bridges or burn them, heal or harden, open the heart or close it.
Message I Hope People Take Away
I hope that when someone closes my book or finishes a piece of my writing, they feel seen and encouraged. Not because everything suddenly makes sense, but because they realize they are not walking alone. If one person finds healing, clarity, or courage in my words, then the work has done what it was meant to do.
The Most Underrated Struggle
People talk about education, early marriage, and safety, and those are real. But beneath all of that is a more quiet struggle: period poverty. That is the silent crisis we don’t talk about enough, and it is a central theme in my new book Queen of Tracks. For many Nigerian girls, menstruation isn’t just a biological reality; it is the beginning of shame, missed opportunities, and emotional distress. When a girl cannot afford sanitary products, the impact goes beyond hygiene; it affects her dignity, education, and sense of belonging.
How Can Women Help Younger Girls?
Women can help younger girls find their voices by first setting examples, by being strong, unashamed, and fully human. When a girl sees a woman speak her truth, write her story, or lead without apology, something inside her awakens. She begins to believe she can do the same.
Changing Society’s Treatment of Girls
That would be the silence culture. I remember when I was in secondary school, we were told that ladies are seen before they are heard. Originally, that idiom was meant for children. “Children must be seen and not heard” means that children should not interfere in discussions being held by adults or grown-ups. The child’s job is simply to sit, listen, and learn from the adults without making any contributions. Somehow, as the years went by, “children” was replaced by “women”. Unfortunately, this has been ingrained into the lives of every girl. They are taught to dream and shrink. Before they learn to speak, they have been taught to apologise. Before a girl knows who she is, the world already tells her who she should be.
Balancing Identity and Voice
In a society like ours, being a woman already comes with layers of expectation, and as a creative, I tend to remind myself that my art is not performance but an expression. Being a voice means leading with empathy and not pressure. It’s easy to get lost in the weight of all three if you don’t hold on to who you are at the core. One thing I have learned in this life is that you need to pour into yourself before speaking up for others. So I protect the parts of me that make me whole: my faith, my quiet moments, my family; these things ground my spirit.
A Guiding Belief
Contentment. This is a principle I have mastered, and it has given me peace, positivity that has helped facilitate my self-growth. Mind you, contentment isn’t being complacent. It doesn’t mean you can’t have dreams or be ambitious. It only means I have learned to live within my means while I still wish for a better future.
