How You Grow Wings
In Conversation with Oluwapelumi A. Jegede (AnikeBeloved)
Sometimes, the hardest battles are the ones we fight within ourselves—between who we are and who the world tells us to be. How You Grow Wings by Rimma Onoseta is a novel that brings this internal struggle to life, capturing the tension of wanting to break free from expectations while struggling with the desire to belong.
How You Grow Wings is a coming-of-age novel that explores themes of identity, resilience, and the complexities of family dynamics. The publisher’s note describes the novel as a deft exploration of “classism, colorism, cycles of abuse, how loyalty doesn’t always come attached to love, and the messy truths that sometimes, family is not a source of comfort, and that morality is all shades of grey.”
Onoseta's debut novel follows two Nigerian sisters, Cheta and Zam. Raised in a harsh and abusive household, the two sisters take very different paths in life. Cheta, the older sister, is rebellious and longs for freedom, while Zam is the more obedient daughter. Their lives take a dramatic turn when Zam is sent to live with their wealthy aunt in the city, where she enjoys the privileges of high society. Meanwhile, Cheta stays behind, plotting her escape from the life she despises. As they pursue separate dreams, tensions build between them, revealing deep-seated rivalries and emotional wounds.
How You Grow Wings isn't just a coming-of-age story—it's a raw exploration of the choices young adults face in the struggle between family loyalty and personal ambition. The sisters’ journey raises important questions about identity, class, and the often suffocating expectations placed on us by society and family, and in a world where many of us are constantly dealing with similar pressures—whether from our own families, communities, or the media—the themes in How You Grow Wings hit close to home.
I reached out to AnikeBeloved for an interview about the novel, and she did not disappoint. A writer, with social media accounts you could read for hours, (especially if you're a reader) her writing demonstrates a spectacular attention to detail. She writes pieces for her medium page: Oluwapelumi A. Jegede, and tweets about books here. In our conversation on How You Grow Wings, she shares her thoughts about the book and what it means to grow wings.
Agnes Ajadi: Some books feel like they were written just for you. You find comfort in their stories. A character's thoughts echo pages from your own journal, reminding you why you love to read. Certain books have this effect on me, and I believe we all have our reasons for connecting with particular books. What about “How You Grow Wings” made you think, "I need to read this"?
Oluwapelumi A. Jegede: Frankly, I stumbled on How You Grow Wings. I wanted to read and I needed a book that would draw me in. I opened Rimma Onoseta's How You Grow Wings because of its cover and as I read the first paragraph, I instantly knew I would finish it that day.
As I read the book, it was almost as if the characters were where I was or that they were real people in my society. The situations it enunciated were things I could relate to. Reading the book felt like being called to be aware of the goings-on in a neighbour's life.
AA: What kind of mood did this book put you in as you read it? Was it a page-turner, a thought-provoking slow burn, or something else?
OJ: The "I want everyone to experience this book" mood. Because I experienced the book. It made me feel good. It made me feel the joy of being a reader. I can recall tweeting excerpts from it and being curious about the author. I wanted to know more about the author, someone I hadn't heard of before but who wrote so beautifully.
The book made me think, too. I love books that allow me to think. As I continued reading it, I wanted to know if Cheta's defiance was her best shot at rebelling against Mama. If it wasn't. What? Zam's docility? I wanted to know what would have happened if Mama had addressed Papa's infidelity and how she was slammed into colorism.
AA: The book explores sibling relationships and the choices they make. Could you relate to either of the sisters, and did any of their journeys resonate with your own experiences? Were you rooting for one of them more, or did you find yourself torn between their decisions?
OJ: Like Cheta, I can be defiant. I want to speak up, especially when I sense injustice or partiality but unlike Cheta, I won't wait on my sister's incapability to feel good about myself.
Also, abstract as it may seem, Voice is a major element in the novel. I heard and didn't hear voices in the novel. Cheta's was audacious. Mama's was troublesome. Ezinne's was pitiful. Zam's was a whisper. I didn't hear Papa's voice for a long while. When I did, it was scratchy and low.
How You Grow Wings translates to me as how you own your voice. How you do not only speak, murmur or sing but shout. At a point while reading the book, I wanted Zam to hear the sound of her voice and eventually raise it and I wanted Cheta to not regret having a voice because at some points, it seemed like conforming was the best option.
AA: The theme of breaking free—whether from societal expectations or personal limitations—is powerful in the novel. What do you think it means to truly "grow wings" in real life?
OJ: What I think it means to grow wings in real life is to defy the status quo. People will say you have grown wings when you are no longer subservient; when they can no longer push you about.
To grow wings, you must have experienced a state of helplessness, you must have started to hate that helplessness. Then, you must have thought of kicking against that helplessness and eventually kicked against it.
AA: Without giving too much away, how did you feel about the way things wrapped up for each sister?
OJ: Their relationship wasn't healthy but I could see that they loved each other. You could see it in how Cheta defended Zam at the church and how she also pulled her away from the infamous Mr. Henry while Mr. Henry and Zam were the only ones in the music room. You can also see it in how Zam wished they were sisters who talked and shared in each other's joy and pain.
While reading the book, I wanted them to experience the joy of being sisters, even though the adults in their lives kept wedging a gap between them.
As the book drew to a close, I adored how, much like a jigsaw puzzle with scattered and mismatched pieces, they managed to find one another, even if only for a fleeting moment.
On how I felt about the way things wrapped up for each sister, I was glad Zam found her voice. I was glad she grew wings healthy enough to fly to her sister at the abandoned building even though mama didn't want her to.
I was glad Cheta didn't stop being audacious. To dare to be a jinx breaker means to be ready to face the consequences which can either be being victorious or being conquered. Even though she slipped into a crime that would haunt her conscience, she was audacious enough to aspire for a new level in her life's journey. Eventually, the new level came and it had a "congratulations" at its beginning.
AA: And a final question to wrap this up: what message or lesson from “How You Grow Wings” do you think will stick with you the most?
OJ: Hurt people hurt people. For instance, the ripple effects of Mama's hurts were evident in her children's lives. And by extension, the children go on to hurt each other and other people.
If you've ever struggled with the decision to stay or leave home, you may find “How You Grow Wings” highly relatable. Onoseta’s characters are human—flawed, and trying to navigate a world that doesn't always offer easy choices. The journey of Cheta and Zam makes this novel a heartfelt exploration of the lengths we go to break free from the past while wondering whether it’s possible to truly escape it.
If you loved books like “The Vanishing Half” or “Purple Hibiscus”, you’ll find How You Grow Wings equally satisfying. It’s a beautifully written, emotionally rich story that will stay with you long after you turn the final page.
Bookmarked
"But today is not the day I die. People have walked this path, felt this same way and survived. Some probably did not, but that will not be me." - “I Will Die Someday” by Elizabeth Adedokun.
“That’s what he did—fix things, fix people, and make sure everything held together. I loved him so much for that, and felt that I would never be able to repay him for the thousands of simple things he did for me.” - "Tell Me Everything" by Erika Krouse.
“To have someone understand our story, to know what we’ve suffered, experienced, endured, and to sing it back to us, isn’t this, in the end, what we long for? Is this, then, the ultimate seduction?” - “The Siren Song” by Nina Maclaughlin.
Thank you for reading.
Love always,
Agnes