Day 11

I fought with the father of my son all yesterday.

I’m not sure if I started the fight itself but the overall is what pissed me off.

The father of my child is white/Jewish. His parents are doctors. He’s from an upper class.

He told me his biggest fear was knocking someone up if he wasn’t married. (Which is completely self inflicted) my biggest fear is having my son get shot by the police.

He’s arrogant and ignorant. A dangerous combination when dealing with children. I constantly have to challenge him and teach him. He is utterly exhausting.

And yet, I have a love for him. It’s not an “in love” type of thing. It’s not a deeply emotional love. More of a matter of fact love. He is the father of my son and I hope the best for him.

As a friend, he’s actually pretty cool. I don’t mind white guys. Been around them my whole life. They’re simple really. I have yet to meet a white man, in my age bracket, more intelligent and in tune as I. But with him…our friendship is complex..

When I got pregnant with my son…it wasn’t planned. We weren’t in a relationship. He had flirted with me in the past. We kissed once. Had sex once. The stars aligned and waala magic…William was formed.

We went through alot but I more so than he. When people say all pain is relative, that is a lie. I was a bartender and was let go, my house flooded and I became homeless. It put stress on my mentors family and we were never the same. I had to stay on my friends couches, didn’t have clean food, wasn’t able to rest, wore clothes and shoes until holes were in my drawls.

I was alone and scared. I was going to Lamaze classes alone. It became too much. I would cry after. My friends were my savior and still they did not know the level of pain my heart carried.

I remember when I found out he was going to Arizona…it was on twitter. I was floored. I called him. He yelled at me “DO YOU WANNA BE ANOTHER STATISTIC?!” the most vile, racist, sexist, classist thing to state. He let me know in one sentence that he was a white man dictating whether or not my child would be another statistic. Another single black mother raising a little black boy. He was cruel.

As time passed we spoke here and there. He said horrible things. Stupid things. I invited conversations on race, fatherhood, religion, education. He was nonchalant about the whole ordeal. He didn’t care about me or his son.

I went into labor. I called and asked him to sit with me, listen to me in between contractions. Just let me know how long…he didn’t care. I had the baby, he came and took pictures. He was so disconnected it was eery.

He saw our son when he was 10 months.

He just came back August 2015. When William, my son, saw him, I told him to give him a hug. He hugged him like an old friend. It was beautiful.

We started off slow, visits with both me and him. From about August to October, then he and his family did day visits.

Christmas time was near. He missed two weekends back to back. I was irate! And it set me off but I still let him take our son for Christmas and new Years…I don’t celebrate pagan capitalist holidays.

Every month he’s missed a weekend or time away and I’ve allowed it.

This falls on me for assuming he could handle my kindness and not use it as a weakness. It’s my fault for forgiving and frontin like I forgot.

Monday and Saturday he tried to manipulate me. Just because he was friendly about it doesn’t mean I didn’t sniff out the blatant disrespect.

At the end of the day, we were never friends, I was a token nigger to parade about to appease either his white guilt or make him appear progressive.

The moral of the story: don’t trust people to be who they are not, trust people to be exactly who they claim to be.

I am growing. I will do better. I will push for my son to have a loving relationship with his father and I. No matter how bad this will be for the moment, it will pass.

“Think like a queen. A queen is not afraid to fail. Failure is another steppingstone to greatness.” – Oprah

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