At the moment of birth she cried the pains of being born the womb of man, better known as a woman. Her life will be to suffer the burdens of man, to be his back bone, his strengthen, conscious and the womb he will lust for and always yearn to return to, that place once he was born from. I guess you can tell how a man feels about his mother by the way he treats the woman’s love spot.
As a little girl you are a virgin, innocent to the fate of your life. You don’t know that the world sees you as the future to carry the weight of the world. Men may disagree but that old saying, behind every good man there’s a great woman.
A girls’ first baby doll, an innocent training tool. She will pretend to feed, clothe, bathe and diaper her doll baby. Teaching her how to neuter. She will know by watching her parents and/or TV that a family is a man, woman and child. Subliminally schooling her to be a mother someday. When she gets a little older she’ll receives her first Barbie she’s learn to accessories, fix hair and think about being fashionable. There are so many Barbie’s to choose from teach your daughter to be alluring. The little virgin girl may run around and play with the boys and she may be called a tomboy. But at some point it will kick in she’s a girl. Or maybe she will become a lesbian and called all kinds of names, a dike, bull dagger, Lesbos and such. She will have to deal with a different set of issues. However, it just more titles a woman is called, and there are many. More demands and stereotype conclusions of who a woman is.
One day she will find blood in her panties and her world will change. If she’s lucky her mother will school her about sex and learn how precious her body is. That she should try to remain unspoiled until she learns who she is, what she want out of her life. So when she does meet someone special and she will take time to learn who they are and learn to love them for who they are and not for what they have or what they look like. My niece said on FB one day, I can’t remember the exact words but it was something about her father told her that she is special so she doesn’t need anyone else to tell her. I’m reading Friends: A Love Story by Angela Basset and Courtney B. Vance, it’s the story of their lives. I read a part of the book where Angela called her mother to ask, how to get a boy she like attention, her mother asked her why she wanted to get the boys’ attention when she was the prize. She was the prize. We need to teach our little girls that they are the prize. I was never taught that, but granddaughter sure will learn she is the prize.
Girls grow up trying to emulate the woman around them. Have you seen the way some of these little girls dress. Tight pants, little tops, even their shoes promote sex appeal. They have make up for little girls, they get their nails and hair done and look like little women. Have you ever seen the “Toddler and Tiaras Show” Now those girls are cute, but….They are too grown for their little panties. I saw one mom giving her daughter falsies to put on so the top of the dress would fit right. The little girl couldn’t be much older then five years old. I don’t watch the show, I see it when I’m flipping through channels and I pause and I watch for a few moments, well until I get disgusted. But ya’l get the gist of what I’m saying.
Mothers really need to be in their daughters shit. Talk to them, find out what they thinking. My granddaughter likes to play with the baby that lives downstairs. When she gets tired and starts ignoring the baby I call my granddaughter right back and remind her, ‘you brought this baby up here you have to watch her.’ One time the baby put a piece of small candy in her mouth I told my granddaughter she had to look in the baby’s mouth and get the candy because the baby might choke. My granddaughter said, “that’s nasty grandma.” I said, “yea I know but that’s what mama’s do clean up after their babies, if babies makes po-po and they make a mess all over the place, momma’s got to clean it up. Sometimes babies get po-po in their hair, they put it in their mouths, smear it on furniture, they can get po-po all over the place. oh babies can make a mess.” What I did was put a seed in her head that, babies can be a lot of work and not only that she might have to clean up some real shit.
Mothers talk to your girls, keep the line of communications open. Your daughters shouldn’t be afraid to come to you and talk to you about anything. Grandmothers’ you can be a big help. You have the insight of year on your side. You know what you did wrong with your kids and what you did wrong in your life. Only thing some grandmother have to deal with their own daughters who think they have all the answers and don’t want to hear what you have to say. But that doesn’t mean you have to stop trying to help your daughters and granddaughter grow. Let your daughters know they are extraordinary and lets raise woman that will raise great men.
If you are a pretty woman, growing up without affection and a you don’t have a strong woman telling you the facts of life. You may become HOE’S, which is different then being whores and prostitutes. A hoe is a girl/woman who gives their Va-jay-jay away for free. My grandmother use to say, ‘if a man can’t give you anything, leave him alone.” I thought she was crazy, but now that I have children calling me grandma, I feel the same way she did. Only I’m going to try and explained this to my children so they understand. I know what it was like being a hoe. I gave it away for free. Actually I gave it away for attention, affection and what I thought was love. I was too trusting and believing. I came from a family that wasn’t affectionate and we didn’t talk about sex or love for that matter. These boys/men told me they loved me and when they touched me I melted in their arms and I wanted to feel wanted, love and affection. I hug my grand babies all the time, I kiss them and when sit watching TV together I rub and pat them. I want them to know what affection is.
Let’s teach our girls like Beyonce sang, “if you like it you should of put a ring on it.” My grand mother could of told me that men are going to want me and if they really want me they would wait until I was ready for them. She was telling me to let them wine and dine me, that I was a prize. She was saying that if I waited I would of found true love. I could have picked and choose who I wanted, I could of went to college and build a career but I liked sex and the attention I received from it. Today I wished I had a lasting love, a romance that I could have nourished and grew with. That’s what I want today, I didn’t know what I wanted before, I just wanted to have fun.
I don’t know what my granddaughter will want out of her life, but I’m going to do my part to arm her with the tools to help her make the best decision she can. If she wants to be a hoe that’s her decision. If she believes she will be happy and live with out regret enjoy. But she needs to remember to protect yourself, use those condoms, double them up if she has to and use birth control, I don’t want her becoming a mother until after she has lived for herself. I want her to understand the down side of having babies at a young age. If she is a hoe and later decides she doesn’t want to be one after all. She can be a born-again-virgin I hear. My mother told me that a man can wallow in the mud, get up take a shower put on fresh clothes and everyone will forget he wallowed in the mud. But a woman it ain’t the same, everyone will talk about her for the rest of her life. I understand what she meant today, but at fourteen. I didn’t have a clue, I didn’t plan on wallowing in any damn mud. Like I said early my family didn’t discuss sex so I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. I would have understood better if she said, don’t give the cooty-cat to every Tom, Dick and Harry. Straight up, that’s how we need to talk to our girls it’s their future they have to be prepared for. So still if my granddaughter does become a hoe she will know what she’s doing.
Babies are cute, their love is unconditional, but wait until you’re ready. I read in the papers too often about young mothers, some not too young who throw their babies away, kill them after abusing them. It’s like the reality kicks in and they rather destroy a life then to give the life away. Babies rob young mothers of their youth, they can’t hang out with their friends, they don’t have time for themselves, they get very little sleep. Most of the time the daddy has moved on to someone else. I know I had my days.
I was with a man who didn’t marry me after twenty-three years, we raised a family together and maintained a household, then he married another woman. But I’m really okay with that, because he lived most of his life on drugs. I held the home together. I paid the bills, clothed the children and everything else that needed to be done to survived. Some times I even had to go out and be a whore, cause my kids needed food. I went to the pantry, stole I ain’t proud of it, but that’s what a woman does, she does what she has to do. Especially if it’s to feed her babies.
I worked two jobs, sometime three. A lot of times my kids were on their own. My son paid the price for being a latchkey kid, he spent a number of years behind bars. My girls choose men not too different from the man I choose. I watch them today struggling to be good mothers, to make their homes. They are doing the best they can. I know they are stressed. Yet I try to make them understand that their children are growing fast and in a blink of an eye they will be grown. My girls and I don’t see eye to eye on most things but I love them and my son and I will do anything to help make their lives easier.
I’m fifty-two years old and haven’t live for myself yet. I was a mother at seventeen and by the time I was twenty-three I had three children. I didn’t begin to live for myself until I was forty-three or so. But then I became sick and now I live for lupus, because lupus dictates my days. Some days I’m in too much pain to even get out of bed, to fix a plate of food.
I hope that my girls become wives, I never was, so I don’t think I will ever be complete as a woman. Not that being a wife makes a woman completes. But for me I feel cheated, if that man I lived and raised a family with for 23 years was still single, I don’t think I would feel cheated . Him getting married was like a smack in the face. No matter how much he tells me he doesn’t love his wife, that I’m the only one he loves. That he only married her because he needed some place to stay. That doesn’t deduct the fact that he didn’t marry me, that he didn’t care enough to work at keeping us together, or to get us back together. He took the punk way out to make his life easier. I wasn’t worth the work of him trying to getting a place by himself and proving he wanted me. He let me go and closed the door on any future we might of had.
So I went from being a virgin to a hoe then a woman, mother but never a legal wife, sometimes a whore. Kathy Bates said it best in Delores Claiborne, “Sometimes being a bitch is all a woman has to hold onto.”
So that what I am aspiring to be, a grade A, 100 percent pure BITCH. It’s going to take a lot of work for me cause I am too fucking nice. I care about everyone around me and I give more of myself then I get in return. I am tired of being so damn caring, so thoughtful, politically correct. I want to channel that street whore that can fuck you for your money and not live the next day in regret. I want to be the hoe, that can set fire to the bastard who used her. The wife that can take the cast iron frying pan and knock the son of a bitch up side his head for treating me like shit. I want to be a real live Bitch. I want to be the say anything I want to, do anything I want to and not give a damn.
But atlas I am a woman that cries when a movie has a happy ending, who feels the pain when another child dies at the hand of abuse. I care about those around me, I want to help those who are hurt. I want to wipe the tears of those who are lost and searching. I wish I could be a bitch but it’s not my nature, I am a woman with compassion, I’m a mother, a sister and still always a daughter. As I think about it, being who I am really isn’t that bad. I live like a bouncing ball I have my ups and downs.