The world felt like it was holding its breath. I stood in the cold fluorescent light at Manchester Airport, dragging a suitcase that weighed exactly 23 kilograms. My heart was heavy with dreams I wasn’t sure I had the right to say out loud. Taking those first steps on British soil was strange and electric. My skin tingled with possibility but my mind was stretched tight between excitement and fear.
Inside that suitcase were rolled-up sweaters and secondhand books. But more than that, it held the blueprint for a future I was determined to build. I hoped to become a woman who created her own happiness. I wanted to build something big that felt global but personal. Mostly, I wanted to prove to myself that joy was possible and waiting for me.
I was a Black woman, an immigrant, and a brand new Master’s student at Nottingham Trent University. I felt people watching me, quietly deciding where I fit or if I fit at all. I faced racism and sexism more times than I can count. I got sick and still kept going. When the world got heavy, I heard my parents’ voices across the ocean reminding me I was more than the limits others tried to put on me. Their love was my shield.
Some nights I stayed up late, writing articles for the World Economic Forum. I wasn’t sure if anyone was reading, but I kept writing anyway. Diane von Furstenberg’s words stayed with me. She said, “I knew the woman I wanted to be.” I decided I would know her too.
Switzerland
Almost five years later, July 2025 unfolded like a prayer answered. That month was full circle, a clear proof of God’s existence and his plans unfolding in ways I could never have scripted. I received an email from the World Economic Forum inviting me to the Global Shapers Annual Summit in Switzerland. They covered everything from travel to accommodation to meals. It was a dream come true and a milestone in my journey.
Switzerland was more than a place. It was a symbol of grace and second chances. It reminded me of Tina Turner’s story. Reinvention, courage, and finding love where the air is crisp and lakes are impossibly blue.
When I landed in Geneva, the city felt like it was made just for moments like mine. The Alps stood tall and proud, shining under the sun. The lakes stretched out so far and so blue they seemed to be holding my dreams in their reflection. The air smelled fresh and full of hope.
The summit gathered over 500 hubs from all over the world, with thousands of young leaders committed to making change. We shared stories, debated ideas, and brainstormed solutions for climate change, technology ethics, and social justice.
As the curator for the Birmingham hub, I carried the pride of my city and community. My role was to connect voices, encourage collaboration, and carry our stories forward. It was a responsibility I took seriously but also a reminder of how far I’d come.
Even surrounded by brilliance, the quiet moments stayed with me the most. Early mornings watching sunlight pour through my window, wandering cobbled streets older than my dreams, evenings by Lake Geneva where swans drifted slowly and reminded me that patience and grace still matter.
Leeds and Doncaster
Coming back to England, life found a new rhythm. The next chapters unfolded not just in cities, but in the people and moments that lived in them.
Leeds was where my not so little brother graduated. My parents flew in from Nigeria just to see him walk across that stage. Standing there with them, I felt how much every achievement means when your people are there to witness it.
Doncaster was slower, softer. I spent time with my aunt and cousins. We drank tea from mismatched mugs, laughed late into the night, and talked until the words ran out. My older brother, always ready for an adventure, pushed us toward the next story to live.
London
London was next, full of noise and life and family chaos.
We wandered Borough Market, chasing the smell of fresh bread and spices. In Peckham, I tried plantain ice cream for the first time. It was weird and wonderful. Sometimes joy is right outside your comfort zone.
There was laughter, heated debates, silly arguments, and hugs to make up for them all. London became the city where our family stories grew, messy and beautiful.
Jaiye Collective
If Switzerland was where my dreams flew high, *Jaiye Collective* is where my heart beats steady.
It started small, in my Birmingham living room, during days when depression and loneliness made the world feel heavy. I needed connection. I wanted a safe space where people could laugh and feel seen.
*Jaiye* was that space. At first, just a handful of friends and a playlist of our favorite songs. But it grew. People came from all over the UK, Ireland, Sweden, Paris, Abuja, and the United States. Every event felt like magic. Music, laughter, conversations that turned strangers into family.
The world can be cold and hard sometimes. Especially for immigrants like me. Politicians are tightening borders and stirring fear. There is more suspicion, more walls, and more questions about who belongs and who doesn’t. It can feel like a lonely fight just to be seen and heard.
But *Jaiye* is our act of warmth. Community here is a choice we make with every dance, hug, and moment of truth. When my parents watched me prepare for
one of our events, seeing their pride was like reaching another peak.
Full Circle, and Still Walking
From Switzerland’s mountains to Leeds’ graduation halls, Doncaster’s kitchens, London’s streets, and back to Birmingham’s glowing rooms, this journey is about hope that refuses to die and the people who cheer you on no matter what.
But even now, I have fears. I still feel lost sometimes. Loneliness still knocks on my door, uninvited but persistent. As I evolve, I’m outgrowing people and I’m losing friends. People who once knew me but don’t anymore. It’s a strange kind of sadness that no one talks about.
I worry about the future, about not living up to the woman I said I’d be. I worry about how to hold my dreams and my fears at the same time without breaking. Most of all, I worry about losing myself in the middle of it all.
But alongside all that, there’s this fire. A fierce excitement for the doors waiting to open and the stories still waiting to be told. I pray I never lose sight of who I am – the messy, soft, complicated, beautiful me. The one who dreams big, laughs loud, falls hard, and keeps standing up.
When I first rolled that suitcase onto unfamiliar soil, every step was a leap of faith. Now, I live inside the story I’m still writing. It’s full of risk, love, and my parents’ unshakable belief in me. Their support is the sound beneath every win, their pride the light that touches every summit.
Dreams planted in uncertain soil don’t just survive. They bloom into something breathtaking.
And I’m still blooming.
Yomi Olusunle, MSc, British Psychogical Society (BPS) accredited pychologist, Board member and writer.
