Awombness: A Griefcase? I have finally come to terms with the hand I was dealt when God was dishing out biological fathers. My daughter, #babysesame, has an amazing biological father. His so super duper, we drop the biological and just call him Daddy.
My father is an asshole. Unrepentant. Unapologetic. Unreformed. That used to bother me for a long time. I kept making excuses for him. I even endured his B.O. on road trips to visit family in Boksburg. People say I look like him.
He’s not a bad looking guy. And I’m a stunner. So at least he did something good with his miserable life. Just to be clear, I bear no grudges. That’s like drinking the poison and hoping the other person will die. I did try with Allan.
I followed the Bible. Made numerous advances. He rejected every one. The latest, and final straw, was when he refused to visit my home to see #babySesame’s new bedroom, telling her he would “sit this one out.” I mean, how do you say that to a 4-year-old?!
So nowadays I just leave Allan to sit in his ivory tour of self righteousness. Sure, I’d have loved a TRC with my dad. But he is incapable of doing that. I have a griefcase, but it’s not a burden too hard to bear. Because I have his brothers (his only sister is an even bigger asshole) who helping raise me. Big Chief and The Unc are the shizzle in m’nizzle.
Big Chief told me to be like a giraffe: it’s feet firmly planted on the ground and it’s head in the sky. This post is a tribute to all my amazing Oom’s. For everything you did, and continue to do to uplift coloured children everywhere! Big ups!