Jeremy Nedd | Parris
Day after the election my father calls to what I first thought to be a long lost hello. Who knows…perhaps he was one of the many men basking in an effervescent glow inspired by the surmounted success of a man just like him. A black man. President. Yea, that makes me want to call the 30-year-old daughter that I have virtually no relationship with. Shall I get started?
Now, I’m always open to a phone call from pops but I’m wise enough now to know that every call has its agenda. That day it happened to be for the sole purpose of indirectly checking on my mother and brother, whom both he refuses to call directly. I take the ex Marine’s orders and give him the low down on how crazy things have been. I know he can hear the stress in my voice hinting at the need for answers. Like…anyday you can step up and play real dad now. I continue to discuss how his son is going to hell in a hand basket and taking my mother to the grave with him. Stealing her life away by the second on some wreckless ish. What does this idiot do? Starts bitching about something between him and my mom and the divorce that happened fifteen years ago. I couldn’t believe my ears – but then again I could because I’d heard it all before.
There I was listening to something I had nothing to do with nor care about at this point in my life. It was almost as if he were trying to fling excuses as to why he abandoned his son. Me, I turned out a little psychotic, but still a good hearted and loving functioning member of public society. 🙂 My brother on the other hand, no. His birth was my dad’s pride and joy. And while my parents remained together, the two were inseparable. But, when my parents divorced my father made a huge mistake. He divorced a three-year-old little boy that had nothing but women around him to show him how life should be. Even now I find myself giving my little brother man-up talks, playing the role of this clown that won’t step up and be what he should. Instead, he calls and takes no pity on the fact that his son is going to become another statistic and fast. Every day my brother is being sucked deeper, so deep that he doesn’t even look at me the same. His eyes are different, he’s someplace else. Hope you can follow me.
I’m here, stuck with the burden of all this. When something happens, I’m the first one they call. When my brother does another phuked up deed I have to listen to my mother cry. In turn I cry and carry the burden of all of that and this guy. A man whose granddaughters don’t even know or recognize by face has the nerve to call me on some slickness. At that moment, as the poison seeped through my ears and into my heart, I shook my head slowly and felt the cry coming.
Sitting there at my desk, staring at a computer screen flooded with unread emails, I felt my ears getting hotter. I blinked an overflow of tears and wiped my face quickly before someone came by. All of it was too much and I was so disheartened and disgusted by my father’s behavior and attitude in all of this. And what’s sad is that I don’t even think he realizes how much he’s impacted the life of the son he’d left behind. How his neglience has attributed to the decisions that my brother has made, and God forbid he make a son thus continuing the destructive cycle. After a few minutes of the nonsense I ultimately concluded that I didn’t have to listen to his illegitimate gripes and asked, “So, are you going to do anything to help? Can you at least call him?”
“Maybe, I mean what do you want me to do about it?” He replied to the question not realizing he’d just finished the conversation.
Put him on hold…and never went back.
-black girl.
Filed under: Family Matters, Momma PLEASE! | Tags: black girl in the city, fat booty, high school, milf, mos def, potty mouth
– Mos Def | Miss Fat Booty
Ladies and gentleman, I am officially the parent of a 9th grade girl. Can we all say WTF? I’m still trippin because it seems like yesterday that I was walking her to her first day of pre-k and now…well let’s just say that all of my friends have warned me about the backfire of beauty that could make my life a living hell lol. Hungry, horny boys and malicious mean girls have been predicted to be on my ‘Headache’ and ‘Mofo you better back up before I shiest you’ lists. It’s highschool so I expect it and just try to make sure our relationship is mad cool so I can be an asset (no pun) by giving her 1 up on her crew. A group of giggly teenage girls that consider me to be the cool mom that listens to lil wayne and loves dope sneakers. I told her, “You better thank your lucky stars that I’m a young mom and still hip to this here game.” So long as she doesn’t have any babies and can make it through the first week without getting into fights or rioting brawls then I guess I won’t have to come up there and show my a$$. (Yes I have been known to do that.)
She didn’t wanna go in on the first day alone so I parked, walked her in. The stroll was kinda long because we had to walk all the way around the building to get to the right entrance. Between the trip and back I think I got about 20 mins. of good cardio in. Her outfit was dope. Took her to H&M over the weekend and hooked it up. Last night we spent a couple of hours getting the dress game right so she was super cute today. How she managed to get her hair into some kinda mowhakish looking thing is beyond me but I suppose she was listening when I said, “You gotta be on point with your swag J., this is highschool and you wanna make your stay as easy as possible. Swagg is everything.” She just nodded yes and flashed a funny smile and gave me a big hug, kiss and thank you. I like these times and am glad I can relate to her.
We get into the gym and stand in line to grab her schedule. The place is filled with loud, obnoxious teens that were obviously excited about the first day…seeing old friends they missed during the summer and all of that stuff. When it was our turn the lady, whom was hella distracted by this adorable senior, looked up at me and said, “What’s your last name? Do you know your homeroom teacher?” I laughed and replied, “Um I’m not the student but…” She laughed and apologized, “You look like one of the new kids!” Gee thanks lol. As she was flipping through the papers with a purple highlighter I glanced up to see the same young man hovering behind her back looking at me like he wanted to get it. Ugh!? He looked at my daughter and then he looked back at me again with a half cracked smile. Double ugh?! Guess he could detect the sticky ikiness I felt all over because he ran around to the other side and introduced himself to my daughter and I. Licking his slobbery azz LL Cool J looking lips. Triple ugh!??!
Once he walked away I leaned into my girl…
“Stay away from him he’s perverted.” My eyes were serious.
“Man I was afraid of this mom!” she laughed.
“Afraid of what?” I handed her the white piece of paper and gave her a hug.
“That you would be a MILF.”
Before I could even respond a potty-mouthed girl walked passed me and yelled, “What the FUCK!” We both cracked up but little did lil J. know, the potty girl snatched those words right out of my brain with the MILF comment. I don’t know which is worse, my boy S. calmly explaining to her that he would shoot the tip off of any man part that came within 50 feet of the tips of her sneakers or me being a mom that the school aged boys would like to…
The only thing I know is that I don’t do guns, jail, LL Cool J lips that require a bib to maintain and certainly not teenage boys! Guess I’ll have to sport old sweatpants, smelly sneakers and a t-shirt with a wet spot on the collar so I don’t steal her shine…especially since my high school days are long over. I’m excited about her new beginnings but…
Lord help me.
-black girl.
Archan Nair
There are three things in my life that you don’t mess with, period. My children, my business and my money. Effin off with either of those three things will most certainly get you on the side of black girl that even the grimiest zone 1 goon would be crazed out to see.
My weekend was quite interesting but I’ll get into that later. Long story short, someone got a hold of my bankcard info and had a damn shopping spree courtesy of yours truly over the course of three days last week. I normally don’t check my account everyday because I give myself an allowance and try my best to stick to it.
So, I check my account Saturday and my stomach nearly fell out of my pants. My account was overdrawn and ALL of my money was gone. I’m not gonna say how much but it was quite a bit…
My first step in preparing myself to pay for my eldest daughter’s college was to cut up every single credit card and pay them off. My goal was not to acquire any more debt this year and to live off of cash for the most part. To me that is the best way to truly LEARN how to work within your budget knowing that if you don’t have it or you spend it on dumb shyt your are certainly not eating this week, Lol.
When I discovered the damage I didn’t even cry, pitch a fit, go crazy, I didn’t even make a sour face. That in itself is a sign of growth for me because normally I would go into a frenzy thinking the world is gonna end. What gave me solace was the fact that I was pretty sure my bank would replace all of the money because the same thing happened to me homie Ty when he was in Brazil. Only difference is they got him for much more!
Making Adjustments.
Ok, so I breathe deep and try to enjoy the remainder of my day. I was standing in the middle of the black pavement at the entrance of Six Flags Amusement, heat blazing on the back of my neck. I put my blackberry in my pocket and reached into the other one…I only had a couple of hundred bucks to my name. “Ok,” I thought. I’ll work this out Monday. Kept myself a little change for gas and spent the rest on groceries and gave little one a budget of 20 dollars at the park. I figured that would be cool until I could figure out how to get access to my emergency stash that I purposely set up in a way that I couldn’t get to it easily. It would take at least 5 business days for the emergency cash to show up so I just needed to make it until then..and payday.
I’m A Simple Girl.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from other cultures in terms of acquiring and maintaining wealth is that it is important to keep it simple. How is it that black people are the first mofos to cry broke but we are the community that consumes and blows our money the most? Why do you think companies bring ‘Urban’ experts in to help target us? They wanna know how we think so they can get even MORE of our money forever keeping us hemmed up in dependence and lack of stability.
Anything outside of bills, the babies, food and transport expenses is a luxury to me. The only thing I care about are those things, I pay myself, and then I put my money to work for me so I can be better off later. Being a 21 year old mom having no food, no car AND no money with a 5 year old and 6 week old baby was enough for me to study, do, and teach my girls. There comes a point when somebody has to step up and kick the generational curse. That would be me.
He Bounced.
When I got pregnant with my youngest girl he left. I was given an ultimatum, have an abortion or he takes a hike. Actually he said, “Have the baby and I’ll just disappear.” I hung up the phone and cried my eyes out. What’s done is done. I chose life and prepared myself to deal with the obstacles by totally erasing any thoughts of him being around ever. Some disagree, but my thing is I pick and choose my battles. I can’t make a man be a father to a beautiful little girl if he doesn’t want to. Karma takes care of all of that for me. Don’t get me wrong, I tried to do my part to get child support but the system has it set up so crazy that you just get lost and end up spending months waiting for them to tell you that they don’t know where he is to serve him. The issue is that he lives in LA and I am here. So essentially you’re dealing with two different government agencies that have no idea what the phuk they are doing because they are overloaded, underpaid, and understaffed thanks to those good ole republicans that feel the country budget could be better utilized elsewhere, like president Bush’s manicures and ‘personal’ assistants.
Hiring a private investigator and flying back and forth to LA wasn’t on my high list of priorities. Stay here and get money was a much easier and more productive approach. The only reason I would go look for him IS for money because I gave him an opportunity to be a father to her ‘first’, money aside. He flew here and spent a couple of days bonding with her before bouncing forever without any explanation to her or me. I warned him before hand, “Don’t come around here if you don’t plan on being a part of her life. I can get her a cell phone for you to call whenever you wanna talk.” I wanted to keep myself out of the equation, but that phone never rang.
Honestly. this is one of those deep dark things that I rarely talk about but the hurt and disappointment is definitely there and I’m working through it the best way I know how. It really isn’t about me personally, it’s about her, both of them. Little black girls need their fathers. I know I did and the father I did have was nothing. There’s your answer to how I ended up getting pregnant by not one but two irresponsible black men. I’m not a hoe, I was just looking for love in any way I thought I could get it.
This is one of those times where I could slap a n*****!!!!!
Every morning when I get up I tell myself everything that I need to hear in order to do my due diligence to self and make a positive leap into my day. Of course whenever I start speaking such – a deterrent always manifests in an attempt to launch the downward spiral of me potentially wallowing in a messed up day.
So this morning I’m up and at em, getting the day started. I go into my girls’ bedroom to make sure everyone’s up and getting themselves together. My little one was nowhere to be found until I heard sobs coming from the closet and peeked in. Her eyes were welding up with tears.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have any sneakers that fit,” she burst into tears.
“What?”
At first I wanted to get angry with her for waiting until Monday to tell me that her “shoes were too tight and her toe was pushing at the top.” I took her over the weekend (before the money drain) to look for shoes ‘just because’ and we couldn’t find anything she liked in her size so I said, “Let’s just wait so you can get exactly what you want.” She never mentioned that her sneakers were too small and I thought nothing of it because the pairs that she had were just purchased a little over a month ago! She’s recently hit a growth spurt.
So I said, “Why are you waiting until Monday morning before going to camp to tell me that your shoes are too small? Why didn’t you say anything when we went shopping?”
She just shrugged her shoulders and little crocodile tears ran down her face. I wanted to cry but couldn’t allow her to see me do so. Just looked for solutions.
“Flip flops,” I said reaching for a color that matched her outfit.
“Can’t wear those, I’ll get in trouble. We can only wear sneakers now,” she said.
“Sandals then,” I said just wanting to find a temporary fix until I could get things straight.
“No mommy. We can only wear sneakers and all of my shoes hurt my feet.”.
The Last Straw.
Ok, to see your child cry because they have no sneakers that fit and you don’t have any money because someone STOLE every penny you’ve earned is the most infuriating thing ever. I could feel my cheeks and ears getting hot so I just left the room, “Let me see what I can do,” I sighed.
Shoes. Gas. Shoes Gas. I paced my room and checked my wallet. Gotta have gas to get to work.
This is one of those times where I get so pissed the phuk off I can barely see straight. If I had help I would have been able to make sure my daughter had phukin sneakers on her feet when she told me she needed them!!! I’m not even empoverished so what the phuking phuk? We live ok now, but we could be living 100 times better if I had help.
Most of the times I just suck it up and deal because I don’t want my girls seeing me lose my cool over shyt like this, and I have to deal with my decisions made in life the best way I know how…with a smile and occasional cry in the dark. I haven’t had anything like this happen to me in a very long time so it kinda drudged up a lot of old stuff and reminded me of how much on my own I really am.
I guess the lesson learned from this is that we should all have a back up to our back up’s back up, cuz the majority of the Black American working class is one paycheck away from being broke. And Lord forbid somebody taking your shyt. You just never know what could happen.
I think it’s about that time. I’m going on a manhunt and I’m taking no phukin prisoners. He just better be ready cuz I’m that bytch right about now and I’m not messing around with the BS.
If you live in LA hit me up. I’ve got some work to do.
-black girl.
This is my baby sister M. We found out about each other at the end of summer last year. My pops, all of a sudden after 15 years wants to tell me that I have a sister. Called me up at work and said hey, I have your sister on the phone. Nigga what?! I mean, it was so out of the blue it was crazy. At first I was angry because I knew what it meant…but I already knew that part anyway. She was a love child; her moms and my pops juked it out and made a cute, petite, pretty little thing that acts JUST like me! She’s a Taurus too and spoiled as shit. She has more designer handbags than I do lol.
We’ve been getting to know each other but I admit I haven’t been too diligent. She got her phone taken away for a minute and I was hardly ever on IM or myspace so you know…lol. We did have a little talk about my dad and above all I just wanted to make sure that she was ok. When I was her age I was searching hard body for someone of the opposite sex to teach me, guide me, give me that sense of security I needed. I ended up with a baby that’s now one year younger than her. She and my eldest daughter could be twins. Anyway, we talked about the whole absent dad thing and how it made her feel…and at that moment I felt a deep rooted happiness because I felt like I could give back to a sibling, like everything I’ve gone through over the course of my lifetime I can tell her without censorship and just be real. I’ve broken it down to my brother as real as I possibly can, but at the end of it all I’m not a black man so I can’t teach him shit about what he needs the most of. Lord knows I have a lot of miles and stories to share lol. She actually reads this blog…(hey girl J) something I would never let my babies do (right now). I’m looking forward to cultivating and strengthening our relationship. I know I’ll be a vital resource and friend to her.
In other news I went to my grandmother’s house on Sunday…my great granny was turning 102 and for some reason I thought it was 105 but I can be a dink on remembering stuff. :-\ At first I swear I didn’t wanna fuckin go but I’m glad I went. Everybody in the family was there including yours truly. Yes my pops. I hadn’t seen him since sometime last year, and a few phone conversations and emails in between filled the gaps but nothing serious. I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty awkward telling my little ones, hey girls meet your grandfather. The current dynamics of Black families kill me sometimes yo! It’s a never-ending continuum. So this cute little girl with the most beautiful chocolate skin walks up and smiles. She’s got blue rubber bands around her braces and she was wearing blue rimmed glasses. Pops says to me and my bro, meet your sister. What the FKING FK!? I was caught off guard for real. All I could do I was hug her and act as normal as possible, eventually wandering off to find a bottle of water to quench the effects of sun flames beaming down on my forehead. My normally china doll cut bangs where wisped to the side to avoid the sweat beads. Summer in Georgia is no joke!
Pops says, “Hey conversate with your sister.” Um what the fuck am I supposed to say? “So, what have you been up to for the past 11 years? Do you like your math class?” I mean really. There’s a time and place for everything. I’m excited though because she lives here unlike M who lives in B’more. I hope to get up to her soon. My granny walks up and doesn’t say anything. She just smiles and rubs my back for about two minutes. A mother always knows. When she’s done she says, “Bring the girls around here more often ok? Don’t keep them away from me.” That was a bet. I can’t help that I feel disconnected without a sense of family. I really try, but I just can’t get into it most times. Never felt that connection. I’m gonna make an effort to be better by starting with the two sisters I never knew about, but certainly have the blessing of getting to know and help guide in the right direction. Everything happens for a reason.
Casual conversation surrounds us while I’m trying not to cough from the grill smoke. I could have sworn I’d picked up the smell of semi-seared hotdogs and hamburgers in my hair. Ugh. As I’m distracted with burning eyes and a choking throat my pops says, “Oh yea, you also have a little sister who’s 3. She’s with the wife (who’s fukin 33 by the way) in myrtle beach.” My aunt joked, “Damn. When you gonna stop old man?” He said, “Nah I’m done. I think I have enough children and grandchildren to take care of me when I get old. Black girl are you gonna take care of me when I get old?” Are you serious?
Now you see what the hell I’m talking about.
-black girl
I’m taking a class later this month entitled, “CREATING A VIBRANT FUTURE WITH OUR PARENTS AND FOR OURSELVES”. It’s being taught by a 30+ year mid-life specialist. I guess that qualifies me eh? Lol.
So, a large part of my days have been spent facing things I normally avoid, not realizing how many freakin problems and stress I create for myself unnecessarily. My goal this week was to pick one thing, and one thing only to face head on without turning the other way. Hence me taking this class so that I can learn about and develop a plan for taking care of my mom in her older days. I felt a twinge of fear when I read the heading because I knew that her struggles with her health and mental well-being would only increase and get worse over time.
You haven’t heard me talk much about my family because it’s a pretty sensitive topic. On the real, shyt can be really phuked up sometimes and I feel like I’m the parent and sole person responsible for a 50 year old mom and a 20 year old brother that has no real example of what a black man should be. These two people have caused me so much stress, anger and at times loss in my own life that I have totally detached myself emotionally and in a lot of ways physically from them. I’m not sure if I can ever get the emotional and paternal connection with my mom back. I care for her, but I can’t remember the last time I hugged her for real for real. There’s a numbness there.
My sense of family is kinda phuked up. I pretty much keep to myself, me and my daughters, and we make moves as a unit together. Just us. I’m the one that could really care less about getting together on holidays or birthdays or whatever because that shyt really doesn’t mean anything to me. I’d much rather be doing something else. A ‘holiday’ is just another day. I know all of this comes from somewhere but I never really asked myself why I didn’t get excited when the opportunity to gather as a family group came about. That could be a number of reasons…
Perhaps it’s because I have no real sense of home really? I don’t even claim Atlanta as my native spot despite me being here for so long. I was born on a military base in NC, my dad was a gunnery Sgt and I think the Marines made him phukin crazy lol (in a funny way). I know nothing about my birth place let alone where it is. We spent my entire childhood moving around the country and abroad. Kicking it for 6 months to a year, and then we’d be out. Anyone I’d even begun to call friend became an instant memory, only with them you couldn’t add water and stir it with a spoon to make it all fluid again. They were gone forever. I wasn’t close to my dad, and the things I did see of him where things no black girl should ever see in the home but, whatever. My mom was no saint either and whom I often times feel was the catalyst in the majority of their battles. Regardless, I honestly don’t feel like I can pick up the phone and rely on them to be there for me when I need them…even if it’s just getting a break from the kids or an ear to listen. I remember one time I got drunk and sent my pops a long email just talking about my life and what was going on. About the men I’d dated, his granddaughters that don’t know him, and just random shyt about the drama that my mom’s and lil bro were going through. At the end I put, “Just thought you might like to know how your old family was doing.” Nevertheless, I feel as though I have no safety net in family. I fall, oh well. Do you know how scary it is to live your life feeling like you have no foundation of support?
Regardless of that reason and the others I won’t get into, I am who I am. And now I am faced with the haunting reality that I’m going to have to make sure my mom is straight and that this is kinda urgent. I need to start putting these things in order now so she’s not stuck in some home somewhere wallowing in her own poop for days. Not gonna happen. It’s scary because both she and my brother depend on me so much. Too much. My mom emotionally a lot of times. Sometimes she just calls to talk to me about whatever and I’m just holding the phone. I give her more life advice than she does me! She tells people I’m her best friend and I wanna say, “I’m not your phukin best friend so stop telling people that crap!” How shyty of me to think that huh? I have four children and no best friend anywhere in that equation. Some days I don’t even answer my phone because I know somebody needs something and honestly I don’t feel like helping anyone with shyt anymore. The last time I sacrificed space in my home, my time and my money they phuked me over and did it raw. It was affecting me and my girls so adversely that I had to step away.
Yes, we all go through things as a family but with mine and those two, it’s a vicious cycle. It’s like they act first, think later, and then call on me to clean up the messes they’ve made. It’s been this way all of my life with my mom especially. All is cool, then it’s not, and then you are made out to be the bad person because you had to draw the line, even though you were the only mofo that was around to help their asses when the griddle got hot. Then, when the iron cools down…they’re happy again and want to come around and spend time with me and the girls like everything is cool. What the FUCK! I can forgive all day, but when you do the same shyt so many times how can I forget? Because of this I have become emotionally withdrawn from the both of them for my own sake and well being. I have an issue with that and to me it’s abusive when it turns into a cycle that has run rampant all of my life.
I think that this last incident that spanned the course of 6 long months with my mother, father and brother has really put me in a place where I’ve pulled the plug and have said phuk it. But how can you do that when it’s ‘Family’? As much as I want to be left alone they still show up unannounced at my crib at 9am or want to hang out ‘just because’. At this point I want to be done but I can’t. Both of them rely on me so heavily that it’s upsetting and the stress kills me at times. My attempts to break away don’t do much good when they know how to find me and how to get into my gate even if I don’t answer my phone. Lol. Which leads me to the truth that I, JUST I, will be the sole person responsible for taking care of my mom in an even greater capacity as she gets older. She’s got some serious issues, as we all do, and she’s working on them and I support…but I know that she won’t be in the position to fend for her own when that time comes. If I had loot I’d just buy a house and let her do as she pleased. But that’s not reality. Reality is that I have the worries of two little girls that I’m fending for on my own, and one hitting college in 4 years. My problem is that I want to help everyone I can, but I’ve realized that my generosity has made me a sitting target for manipulation and an easy way out. When I stand up for myself I get shyt from 1999 thrown back in my face topped with a…”Don’t forget where you came from.” I wanna say, “Do you even know where you’re phukin going?”
I’m sure this class will help me put things into perspective and exercise the options that I’ll have when my mom becomes my sole responsibility but…where does that leave me?
The burden is heavy.
-black girl.
Black Girl In The City. 