The Beauty of My Scars

Mo’s Story of Self-Love and Acceptance Despite her Disability

Story By: Mo Aina, Edited by Dainelis Rodriguez, Naz Hussein, and Hayley Ross.

Mo Aina is one of WeaveTales Second New American Speaker Cohort. Born in Nigeria, Mo suffered from a deformity in her legs called Genu Varum. As a little girl growing up, her legs, primarily her thigh bones, were curving outward instead of being straight, creating a bowed-like appearance. Mo’s story of struggling with her disability led her to truly become a force within herself by finding self-love and acceptance.

Pain was always consistent with my disability. I was on pain relievers and some other forms of medications. I have a lot of painful memories as a child that I suffered from my disability. When I was five years old, I could barely walk a little distance because of the pain that would center on my legs. I would watch the other kids run and play wishing to join them someday. When my parents would drop me off at school, walking to class was a problem. It would hurt when I walked. Not only was the pain from my disability, it also came in the form of humiliation. I remembered one day, some students were making fun of me and mimicking me audibly. Other times some neighbors on my street were mocking me and laughing about my legs.

All this made me cry. It broke me down so much that I would cry uncontrollably. The fact that they were unapologetic about the humiliation made it worse.

I spent most of my time in agony as a little girl. Once I arrived at school, I was always confined to my chair. I was shy of walking around because I didn’t want to be ridiculed by my fellow peers. As time went by, I started developing low self-esteem and living in torment all day. To resolve this, I kept to myself.

This made my parents very unhappy. They decided to take me for a leg correction surgery. The surgical procedure, known as Osteotomy, involves cutting one or more bones. This period was so tough for me as I was just six years old. On the day of the operation, I was excited and hopeful that my legs would be straight, and that I would walk and play like every other kid. Though I was excited, I also thought about the uncertainty of surviving the surgery.

The Surgery

On that fateful day, I was dressed in a green hospital gown and wheeled to the theater with my dad and mom behind me. I could see the fear in their eyes and the affection they had for me. After being wheeled to the theater, I was told to look at the light right above my head. A doctor asked me questions until I drifted off.

Lo and behold, I woke up after the surgery. I found a plaster of pastry on my legs and I could not lift them. Day after day and night upon night, I was bedridden and in pain. As I healed, it started itching inside but I was not able to scratch it. It was such a painful experience. While on my recovery bed, I would cry. When my family surrounded me, I would stop because I never wanted my siblings or parents to see me like this. This would make them unhappy, so I was careful about this.

After some months, the cast was removed from my legs. I had long stitches on my legs: two long ones on my right leg and one on my left leg. The doctors had to cut the front and back of the right leg because it was more bowed than the left. I started a physical therapy session after I left the hospital. After some time, I started walking again, and I got the greatest shock of my life.

Instead of my legs remaining straight, they started getting bowed-like again. It was like my world was crumbling again. I was miserable and traumatized. I cried so much. My parents were sad about this development. They spent so much money to get my surgery done and so much time nurturing me when I was bedridden. It all went down the drain.

When I healed, I never wanted to resume school because of the torment and humiliation that I would go through. Yet, my parents persuaded me and I had no choice but to return to school. When I returned, the abuse continued from my peers. They were unrepentant.

The Trauma

As I grew older, it got worse. I had to live with being bullied every day. My parents opted for another correction surgery again. When they told me about this, I was so elated. My mom scheduled an appointment with a doctor at Baptist hospital in Ogbomosho, Nigeria, which was in another state and far from Kaduna State where we lived. When we arrived at the doctor, he said they cannot do another correction surgery because of the previous correction surgery I had. My mom and I left the hospital feeling hopeless and cried until we got back to Kaduna State.

I was in distress. I thought there was a remedy to my nightmare but there was none.

Life went on and after my secondary school, I got admitted into the Polytechnic Ibadan for my diploma. I found it difficult to face the reality of my life. I was not honest with myself. I could not completely accept that I was born with a disability. The more I kept it to myself, the harder it became as I was not living my truth. I lived in denial for several years. I was seeking validation about my identity. I was vulnerable and this led me into the wrong relationships. I based my self-worth on other people’s opinions. I was not proud of myself. I was in a desperate search for acceptance and I robbed myself of my own joy. I was seeking the approval of others to find happiness and my hunger for validation from the outside did not stop.

The Comeback

After obtaining my diploma, I got a job in the banking industry. About a few years later, I met my husband. I was just walking out of an unhealthy relationship and we became friends. He would come to see me after work each day and walk me home. Two years later he proposed and I accepted. That was the best decision I ever made. During our courtship, he always made me feel incredibly special. He was willing to flaunt me to the world without minding my physical disability. He was so proud of me.

All along as I was growing up, I could not wear short clothes because I did not want people to see the stitches on my legs. I never wanted anyone to see my scars and I was not proud of it. But my husband told me that I was wonderfully and beautifully made by God. I do not need to hide my scars because they make me look unique and beautiful. He always reminded me that he loves the way I walk. This gave me so much joy, knowing that I have someone who loves me unconditionally. This started building my confidence and I started wearing short clothes that exposed my legs without being ashamed, embarrassed, or feeling inferior amongst people.

My marriage is about nine years strong thanks to God’s glory. He has blessed us with two beautiful kids. I am no longer ashamed of my weakness and I have gained so much strength and tenacity to tell my story and give out positive energy to my world. I also encourage other people going through similar situations and I have grown over the years to love my scars.

Though it was not easy at the beginning, it took me several years and in tears and shame before I could become brave, audacious, and fearless.

Disclaimer: The views, information, or opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of WeaveTales and its employees.