I'm Gon Tell Yo Daddy

I participate in sheeple behavior often, namely by watching the boob-tube.  I shamefully love television.  I don't watch dry and generic television shows on the more blatant mind-control networks.  I love the more entertaining mind-control networks that you must pay extra for like HBO, Showtime, and the ilk.  I can't wait to be enthralled by Weeds and Dexter on Showtime.  I need to figure out a way for the Mr. to let me get cable at least to watch my shows in the fall!

Anyway, I was watching regular mind-control programming today on none other than MTV.  It was 16 & Pregnant.  I really do enjoy that show, despite the fact there are few appearances of people of color on it.  It does a pretty interesting job of depicting the manner in which having a baby, especially when one is not developmentally prepared for one, changes a life.

This episode featured a [White] couple.  The boy was working full time, some job that requires daily 10 hour shifts.  He apparently also left school in order to work full time.  The girl was forced to quit school and become a full time mom.  She complains to the boy about falling behind in school once she rejoined and not having the time to complete her work.  As soon as he gets home, the boy doesn't clean up, doesn't spend any time with the girl or the baby, and runs off to a friend's home nearby.

When the girl asks for a compromise, he excuses his lack of fatherly responsiblities because he works 10 hours a day.  Coming home to attend to a newborn for 4 or 5 hours while she does her homework is just overwhelming.

So the girl tries for another compromise.  She finds a daycare that accepts babies from 6 weeks to 12 months for free, as long as the mother is in school.  She takes the boy to see the daycare and he completely objects.  He even says "I'd rather quit my job than send the baby here."  But he doesn't mean he'll quit his job.  And he won't admit that he is unavailable and does not concede to caring for the newborn more often.

So they break up.  The girls moves back to her mother's home.  The boy stays with his father and is obviously excused from any parental duties.  The girl complains in an ending monologue that she wished she had known the real boy before she got pregnant.  She continues with the sadness of being abandoned by all her friends now that she has a baby.  You can see the longing for her adolescence in her eyes and the lost hope for its return in her tears.

I tweeted about the sacrifices a woman makes to become a mother, whether or not she is even prepared.  Fatherhood is always optional.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified.  I took a pregnancy test at home and the first thought I had was about him.  He's going to be so mad.  He's going to think I tried to trap him.  I don't even think he wants me and now I'm f*cking pregnant.  F*cking f*ck!  My second thought was my mother.  She's going to kill me.  She's going to be so mad.  Should I tell her that he's American?  Maybe I should tell her that part later.

A few days later, after a doctor's visit confirmed I was indeed pregnant, I was a little calmer about the situation.  And after my wonderful man responded as awesomely as he did, I was even more relaxed.  I thanked him for being supportive and for committing to his child and to fatherhood.  As a woman, I am aware of gender differences and inequities far more acutely.  I know what it meant for him to chose to be a father.  Fatherhood is optional.

When I thanked him, he seemed a little confused, like my gratitude was uncalled for.  Later on, he expressed that he understood my gratitude.  Fatherhood is optional.

As I watched this 16&Pregnant episode, I kept thinking how grateful to God I am that I didn't get pregnant by some asshole, or at 16, or even at 20.  I wasn't much smarter at 20 anyway.  My driving was probably a little better, maybe.

I'm grateful to God that my wonderful man is a genius.  He's protective.  He's highly emotionally available.  He's patient...sometimes.  He eats anything at least once and he doesn't waste any food I cook.  He's a conscious, beautiful, open-minded, affectionate and loving Black man.

And I can't wait to have his baby.  I can't wait to see him hold that baby, coo the baby.  I can't wait to see him follow his little boy taking his first unstable steps.  I can't wait to see him smile at his girl when she calls him Daddy for the first time.  I even can't wait until our child screws up so I can scream on him "I'm gon tell yo daddy if you don't ... (fill in the blank)."  It's nothing quite like the fear of Daddy's ass whoopin.  And my man is going to be such a wonderful father.

Thank you God I made it to 24 with no children.

Running With Scissors

I used to refuse to sleep without my mom or dad, as an infant and on into late toddlerhood.  It wasn't until I started kindergarten and my youngest, fattest brother Lima came around that I ventured to sleep in my own bed on a regular basis.

I shared a room with my other brother, Sheikh, until I developed more concrete ideas of gender and affirmed my femininity with what my brother thought were offensive girlie decorations like lavender haired trolls, Lisa Simpson, and Care Bears.  So I kicked his ass out and got my own room.

But throughout my life, my parents' room has been a kind of castle, getaway, something better than the rest of the house.  For one, other than the living room, the biggest television was always located in Mommy and Daddy's room.  Secondly, the huge comfortable bed and the fact that it was always clean made for a good spot to clear your head and take long naps.

And now, as a grown up, five months away from having my first baby, I wonder what room he or she will find solace in.  What room he'll have his most poignant memories in.  What room's walls she'll write her name on when she first learns to write.

I am about to move in with his or her father in July.  I am slightly preoccupied with what the space in our bedroom is going to look like.  I need it to be big with enough room to construct a kind of corner space for baby and me to play, look at each other, speak Krio and the moderate Temne I know, and tell him or her all I know and everything about me.  I need a space to create the most comfortable space between me and the baby.

There is an immeasurable distance between Marie and I.  Sometimes when she is near, I try to engage her eye contact and I look for something in her eyes that reminds me of myself.  I look for something that looks familiar, comfortable.  The truth is, I have no idea what my mother's gaze really looks like.  I can't recall what's in her eyes or behind them. 

We don't really look at each other, I don't think.  We look at some archetype of each other, some shadow of something or someone else.  That's the distance.  But in that distance, there is a willful longing, like an animal and some cub unexpectedly separated by vast amounts of water.  She looks towards me wishing to bring me near and I look towards her wishing to know her.  And thus, I have spent all my life wading in treacherous waters, to be near her so as to know her.  Alas, I am tired of swimming.  But I'll at least stay in water, cutting the distance until she can meet me too.

This baby has to know me.  I cannot be a mystery to her.  I cannot be unavailable to him. 

I am 24 now.  Even now, when I go home and I walk into the office or the living (the only 2 places my Daddy ever is until he goes to sleep in his room), his eyes still light up with the same excitement I've noticed since I first learned to call him Daddy.  Behind his eyes, I know myself to be the most amazing thing in the world, even if only he thinks so.

When she or he comes in the room, my eyes will always light up, and she or he will know me well enough to recognize that shine.