Daughters who walk this path ( really world…..2)

Getting into the book was a bit rocky, by Friday I was on chapter 5 but I was able to finish it in two days , Saturday and Sunday sooo…. This is not your conventional review. I will say my mind and go. Really World... Yejide Kilanko did not just write a book. She held my hand and dragged me through the reality of girlhood and womanhood. The kind of reality that makes you pause every few pages because you know this isn't just fiction. This is somebody's story. Maybe even somebody you know. Daughters Who Walk This Path reminds you that being different does not make you less. It also reminds you that the biggest monsters are not always outside. Sometimes, they are the wolves we keep as pets in our own homes. The painful part is that this book is the reality of so many girls today. Girls whose innocence is stolen by the very people who were meant to protect them. Fathers. Uncles. Cousins. Family friends. The people they were told to trust. Really World... Silence is dangerous. This book shows how keeping quiet allows abuse to travel from one generation to another. How one person's silence becomes another child's suffering. Sometimes experience is the worst teacher because by the time you've learnt the lesson, the damage has already been done. And can we talk about the audacity of some men? The entitlement after committing something so evil. The confidence. The lack of remorse. The expectation that everyone should move on while the victim is left to pick up the pieces. Morayo is raped by her older cousin, Bros T. As if that wasn't enough, he threatens to do the same to Eniayo, Morayo's younger albino sister, who is already fighting to accept herself in a world that constantly reminds her she is different. Then there is Aunty Morenike, who is raped by Chief and ends up giving birth to his son despite hating the man with everything in her. Really World... One thing this book got so right is showing that healing is not linear. Morayo's pain didn't disappear because time passed. Her trauma followed her into adulthood, into her relationships, into the way she saw herself. That's what abuse does. It doesn't end when the act ends. This book made me angry. It made me sad. It frustrated me. It broke my heart. But more than anything, it reminded me that evil rarely looks like a stranger hiding in the dark. Sometimes it sits comfortably at the family table, smiles with everyone, and is still invited to every family gathering. If a book can make me this angry, this heartbroken, and this reflective, then it definitely did its job. Please read this book. Not because it is an easy read—it isn't. Read it because it starts conversations we are still too afraid to have. Read it because too many Morayos exist in our Really World. And until we stop protecting predators more than victims, stories like this will continue to be someone's real

Really World!!!

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