PAST EDITORIALS:
Keepin' it Real (May/Jun 2005): 'My Job Makes Me Hate You'
Keepin' it Real (Jul/Aug 2005): 'What's Wrong with Black Love?'

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Now let me start by saying that I’m not a psychologist, I’m not a doctor, or even a relationship therapist. I am, however, a sista who has ‘gone thru,’ ‘been to,’ and has the bumps, bruises and scars to deem me perfectly qualified with a ‘street degree’ to deliver the following rant. (Thank you, Onyx Magazine, for allowing me to do so.)

I visited a girlfriend recently whom I hadn’t seen in a while (we’ll call her ‘Nita’). Our lives were headed in different directions, so we didn’t talk as often as we used to. As I approached her house, I wondered if things had improved for her. The one thing I remembered all too well from our last visit was the pain in her eyes, and the feelings of frustration and futility, because her children were hungry, in need of clothing and school supplies, and she knew her Burger King wages wouldn’t even remotely cut it.

Nita had five children - all girls - each by a different man, and was catching pure hell at every turn. Her oldest ‘baby daddy’ was uncooperative and didn’t help her at all. She has to cuss, fuss, fight and beg for every bit of support he gives her - support he never gives willingly or abundantly (even though he can well afford to).

Her second baby daddy was killed in a shoot-out over a drug dispute. The third baby daddy was in prison for raping the first two children. The forth baby daddy gave her an STD that she’ll NEVER be able to shake, and also raped the oldest child for quite a few months before he was discovered. Last I heard, he was out of prison after serving not a lot of time for child rape. And the fifth is living with her because by doing so, he has a place to stay. The baby just sealed the deal.  

All of these men beat her, cheated on her, and treated her like garbage. All of them have many other children with many other women. None pays child support. Not one is emotionally or physically available to their children. So it poses the questions, “How many more babies do you plan to have with these guys?” and “At what point will you have enough love and respect for yourself to value your life and not continue to be misused and mistreated?”

Nita wanted to go to college, and she had dreams. Now her dreams seem far from reach, and there’s not even talk of school. I watch her, floating from one unhealthy relationship to another, because, as she says, “As long as I got that man laying next to me, I’ll have what I need to support all these children.”

That rationale seems so flawed to me. What quality of man will she get with that kind of thinking? Harsh as it may seem, I’ve yet to meet a man who went to college, worked hard, set goals, and busted his tail - just so he could take care of ‘you and all yo’ babies.’

None of us are immune to being on either side of this fence, not even me. I, myself, am the ‘Founding Member of the NARBM’ - the National Association of Ricky’s Baby Mommas. It is not the most distinguished of titles, but one I own and accept - just as I accept all the club memberships I never thought I’d have. Let’s see, there’s the “my baby daddy was in jail for selling dope when I found him and told him I was pregnant’ Club; the ‘taking my newborn baby to visit his daddy in jail’ Club...oh, I could go on, but you get the idea. 

The NARBM is one of America’s fastest-growing organizations, boasting members North and South. We think the organization was established in 1992 with the birth of my son, but we can’t really be sure. Brotha got around.

Each of our children, no matter how many we have (and no matter who their fathers), is a precious gift - one that God saw fit to give us despite our circumstances. But my sisters, my fellow African Queens, please remember that YOU were put here for greatness, too. You are 24kt gold. Recognize your value, and love yourself enough to be more than a bunch of guy’s ‘baby momma.’ Life has so much more to offer, and you deserve to have it all.

Likewise, my Brothas, my African princes and kings: think before you move. Working two and three low-end jobs just to stay out of child support court (or jail) is no way to live a life. I see my baby daddy go thru it. He’s a young, vibrant man in what should be his prime years, but there’s no happenings there. Nearly half the money he earns is taken from him before he even gets his paycheck - to keep all the mothers of his children off his back. When his buddies are growing, evolving, maturing, living life and blowing their money on silly stuff that guys love - like car stereos and motorcycles, he’s making his way to his second or third job to ensure that the NARBM maintains its court-mandated funding.

There is no fun, there is no recreation, no spontaneous trips or activities, and no self-exploration to determine who he actually is as an individual. There is no time for that. He is, at his relatively young age, a slave to all his baby mommas, and will be until each child is 18. Ricky chose not to get an education and have lots of children, only to discover how very difficult it is to try to support them all - and himself. To his credit though, he does it. But I see the ‘what-if’ in his eyes all the time -- “what if I had gone to college? What if I had made different or better choices?”