Allow Me to Introduce Myself

Onyi Nwabineli

Trade Paperback

Otago Daily Times, 2024

Dedicated to all the kids who wish to be a little less visible, Allow Me to Introduce Myself challenges us to think about the ethics and consequences of sharing the lives of our families online.

The story’s central character, 25-year-old British-Nigerian Aṅụrị Chinasa, has been the face of her stepmother Olivia’s social media empire since before she could talk. After all, what could be more adorable than a beautiful dark-skinned child being raised by a supermodel-beautiful white woman? And if monetising Aṅụrị’s likeness to sell wholesome and affirming family-friendly products ensures she can be raised in luxury, surely it is for her benefit?

For Aṅụrị, the cost of living in a body that has been commodified and claimed by others before you even recognise it as your own far outweighs any material benefits. Although she now has control of her own image, her childhood self remains Olivia’s property, and her struggle for self-definition sees her regularly seeking relief at the bottom of a bottle or in the numbing catharsis of retail therapy. So, when she sees her beloved baby sister poised to become the new figurehead for Olivia’s ambitions, Aṅụrị is determined to do anything she can to save her.

Aṅụrị’s perspective is alternated with that of her parents, providing a limited explanation of their motivations and susceptibilities. Olivia has loved Aṅụrị from the moment she laid eyes on her, and the first photographs she shared were genuinely intended to involve Aṅụrị’s Nigerian grandparents in their granddaughter’s life. The income generated by the inclusion of sponsored content also made a massive difference to the family’s financial security and, as Olivia herself acknowledges, the seduction of money and fame is hard to resist: “I rationalize because I’ve known insignificance and I, like everyone else, deserve to be seen.” Her father, Nkem, meanwhile, was so lost in grief over his first wife’s death that he was incapable of being emotionally available during Aṅụrị’s childhood. Now, he uses the awareness of his inadequacy as an excuse to defer to Olivia in matters concerning their children. Neither is exonerated, but their self-justifications are a salient reminder that ‘there for the grace of god…’.  

I really wanted to like this book, not just because of the important message it carries but also because of the beauty of Nwabineli’s prose. But I couldn’t get past my difficulties with Aṅụrị, who felt like a slightly less self-destructive version of Jude in Hanya Yanigihara’s A Little Life. Although supposedly severely traumatised, she is a highly capable and successful businesswoman, running both a hair design studio and scented candle business (the latter in direct competition with Olivia’s own brand) as well as maintaining a lucrative sideline as an online dominatrix. She is also the world’s most empathetic and generous friend, attributes to which she is oblivious, but which spark such devotion that her friend will drop everything to help her.

Just like its hero, Allow Me to Introduce Myself is a flawed but beautiful creation.