You all are about to be recipients of a rant, so brace yourselves.
I am sick, irked, annoyed, vexed, riled, bugged and maddened about all the excuses made for the disgraceful reality that nearly 70% of black children are born out of wedlock. But before I continue, let me make it clear that I too, am a ‘baby mamma,’ so put your claws back in.
My oldest daughter is the product of wishful thinking. I WISHED, upon learning that I was pregnant, her father would have made me an honest woman, after a year-and-a half of him dangling that marriage carrot over me. I WISHED that said father hadn’t been a man-child. And finally, I WISHED I hadn’t been so über dumb-assed.
Now, at 12-years-old, my daughter cries about the unfairness of not being able to see her biological father everyday like her other friends, misses out on fun stuff like parties on the weekends her father takes her, and feels conflicting loyalties between the love she naturally feels for her bio dad and the love that has grown between her step-dad, my husband. And you know what? I did that to her. Her father did that to her. Together we created a cluster-crock of past, present and future unpleasant and uncomfortable situations for an innocent child who didn’t ask for her parents to be idiots.