The Manifestation of my Worst Fear

People screw up and screw around: it’s a fact. Sometimes the consequence of that screwing is a baby. Some people consciously make the opportunity to screw up with as many other people as they can.

Oh let me stop talking in circles. People need to be more selective with (and committed to) whom they get naked with because we have a slew of little bastards running around in our neighborhoods across America. There. I said it. I used the word “bastard”.

Part of my grief when Nadjah was born was that she was indeed a bastard, by Webster’s definition of the term. She was born out of wedlock, and her father had no present or future intentions toward me. The latter part of that problem was not a concern for me, as my father had already warned me that “Black American men don’t take care of their kids and I would have to raise her on my own.” It’s a broad statement, and unfair to those Black men who DO take care of their kids, but fair in the face of the reality that 77% of all Black children born today will grow up without a father.

I have always wanted Nadjah to have some awareness of who her biological father was, not for his sake, but for hers. I could care less what level of involvement he played, as he had (and has) consistently proven to be useless in the realm of anything remotely resembling responsibility, but I needed her to know what role his past actions might play in a possible life event in her future: The meeting of her half-brother.

Douche Bag has a son (whom he has gone from searching for to now denying is even his) who is 3 or 4 year’s Nadjah’s senior. The last I heard of him, he was in Boston. I’ve only seen infant pictures of him. Douche Bag can now make whatever claims he wants about who fathered that boy, but pictures don’t lie. Tyler (I think his name is) is the spitting image of DB. His luxury being a man is that he has the choice to deny siring this boy – his mother, who birthed him, does not. For this, I abhor him all the more.

 In my nightmares, she leaves home, goes off to college – maybe Harvard – and meets a handsome young man that she feels strangely ‘connected’ to, brings him home to meet the family, and falls in love only for us to discover through some horrible event (like, I dunno, the birth of a child with severe defects) that the man she’s married to and in love with is her BROTHER.

I heard the worst story this week. It happened to a friend of a friend, and only because the adults in her life were too scared/proud/stupid to admit that they were whores in their youth. Fortunately, I’m far too candid and not that dumb to allow my daughter to experience the trauma I’m about to tell you about.

***

Susan grew up in a small town in South Georgia that was extremely close knit. Everyone went to the same elementary and high school. Everyone’s parents worked similar jobs. It was not uncommon for whole extended families to live on the same street.

When Susan was 17, she started dating Greg, who was a boy in her class. Greg and Susan’s mothers did not get along, and never have as long as anyone could remember. Susan didn’t care. She and Greg continued their relationship. Susan’s mother objected vehemently.

“You have to break up with that boy,” she snarled. “His family is no good.”

After much protesting, Susan finally gave up and promised not to see him again.

“Alright, Momma.”

As any mother knows, if her daughter says “alright”, her mouth is saying one thing, but her body is preparing to do another. That being said, Susan continued to see Greg secretly. A few weeks later, she found out she was pregnant.

Her mother was livid, and insisted that she have an abortion. Susan wept, and begged her mother to let her keep her baby. Her mother shoved her into the car, and on the way there dropped a bombshell on her:

“You can’t keep that baby,” she said stonily. “Me and Greg’s dad used to mess around together. That’s why his momma and me hate each other so much. Greg is your brother.”

Susan didn’t say another word. She had the abortion and hasn’t been right since.

*****

How could she be right? She just found out her baby was not only her son, but her nephew as well!

What’s the lesson here? Surely you don’t need ME to tell you. It’s plain as the erection you need to keep in your pants or cover with a prophylactic.

  • Khadija

    DANG! Talk about genetic sexual attraction. They say at least 50% or more folks who are closely biologically related (but didn’t grow up together) and are reunited as adults end up having sex. Nasty huh?!… But a hard core fact. Man people need to stop keeping secrets like that and tell the truth to prevent nasty and traumatizing stuff like that from happening.

  • Ahhh!! I wish there was a way to “like” a comment on WordPress. You hit the nail on the head and built a whole mall!

  • It really befuddles me as to why people see nothing wrong with procreating with any and everybody. Having multiple baby daddies and mamas doesn’t even cause an eyelash to bat anymore. Why? Something is wrong with this picture.

    I heard a mother say there was nothing wrong with her 28 year-old son having 6 kids with 4 different women as long as he could take care of them. Rubbish.

    I was not married at the birth of my first child and it still disappoints and bothers me greatly.

  • This mother is cosigning on one of the great failures of our culture today and doing nothing to stop perpetuating it. What nonsense! Just because you CAN do something doesn’t mean you SHOULD do something. Nuff said.

    She and her son ought to be ashamed of themselves. What kind of quality of life does she expect her 6 grandkids to have if they see their dad in bits and pieces? 4 women?? So what, he drops by after work one day a way after work too see them for a few hours each? And that’s being a responsible father? And who is supposed to pick up the slack in his absence? Their mom? Some other man?? People baffle me. I can’t talk about this enough.

    It’s almost as bad as Beyonce in blackface. 😉

  • Girl, I know! She thinks because he can take care of them on his current drug dealing salary that all is well (supposedly he has money put away for each child in the event of his demise or prison. I’m sure it’s enough to last until they are all 18–said sarcastically). I suppose fathering to him and her are buying clothes, birthday and holiday gifts, diapers, and other essentials, and taking them to Chuck E. Cheese on occasion–idk, because from my vantage point that all that takes place (he is the father of my friend’s daughter).

    Lol!

  • Which practically makes him your nephew! How sad! To think that being a father is buying diapers and going to C.E.C? What about moral guidance? How about teaching life skills? How about being a role model? Oh well, I guess he’s not equipped to do any of these, unless he wants to raise a gaggle of idiotic, a-moral drug peddlers…made in his image and likeness.

    Killing me!

  • Yes, exactly! Smh…