that doesn’t make me want to tear my hair out. So i was reading/lurking on postbougie and they hat tipped TNC (another place where i lurk) and he was explaining why he decided not to marry the mother of his children and (i’m assuming) his girlfriend.
When I read what it was about, I was ready to tear it about. After all, I’m all about (healthy) marriage and it’s one of my two policies of choice for change in the Black community. The other is education if you must know.
While I don’t necessarily agree with his reasons not to marry, I can certainly understand and respect them. It’s not that I think that marriage is a magic pill. I understand that they take a lot of work and a lot of patience. A marriage is a commitment – not just to a wife, but to your children as well. And I guess some of the reasons TNC said he didn’t want to marry, this insurance, is what I thinkis the missing piece to child stability in single parent families. I think a relationship that TNC appears to have is rare outside of marriage and this is the type of relationship that intiatives like The Healthy Family Initiative are strivig to achieve. It’s not so much the contractual relationship as it is the loving partnership that policies, and society, are trying to achieve.
for AIDS victims. A friend put me onto this article that says that a bone marrow transplant has not only cured a man’s lukemia, but apparently also AIDS. The article is quick to say that bone marrow transplants will never be standard treatment for AIDS but hopefully they can learn something from this that can help people.
AIDS is just so terrible and I can’t wait for it to go away.
I’m reading the secret life of bees, and i got to part that involves a kiss and the feelings you get inside and love. I think of love often and the funny way it works. I think of myself in love – an idea that I can’t figure out if I’m scared of it or if I’m just really over it. I think of abstractly. I thought of it abstractly. Until last Sunday, when I learned that he was here.
This is my new little brother, I call him baby k. it’s crazy, I found out about him on sunday (even though he was born last tuesday), i got a picture of him on Monday and I fell in love with him exactly three seconds later. Every time I look at this picture (which is all day since it’s my blackberry background), I smile. That is love. That is something I haven’t been able to feel in a very long time.
Ours is not a traditional family. Every additional sibling is a total surprise. My father, as it turns out, is incredibly fertile, as are the women he chooses to date. Unlike my other siblings from my father, I have been expecting Baby K for a few months now. His mother is pretty stable, so I’m sure I can maintain a strong relationship with him. I wish I could say that was the case with my other siblings
especially her. My little sister. I have seen her only once, when she was born. I felt like this when she was born. Although I was much younger then, I couldn’t help but smile to look at her, to think of her, to dream of her.
And then she was gone. Due to circumstances out of her (and my) control, she was adopted. Her adoptive family left the country back in the 90′s and my father has not done the best job of keeping track of where she is.
I miss the tiny baby I met for a few moments. I wonder what kind of woman she is turning into. I wonder how she would look at Baby K. I’m sure she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.
do we have all these hood long-shot-under-dog movies to show white people we can make it out the hood, or to show people in the hood that there are other ways out?