The Last Time I Speak About Being a Single Mom

1) I am a single mother. This is a title that I abhor (see #2)—-heavy is the head that wears the crown of thorns. Alas, I am one. Despite not ever wanting to be one and despite that I HAVE A REALLY GREAT COPARENTING RELATIONSHIP WITH MY EX. This is something I feel like I have to say constantly, not just out of respect for his efforts as a parent (as the old Chris Rock bit goes, you don’t get a cookie for doing what you are supposed to do—-and that goes for both of us) but because there is so much conjecture and assuming that takes place when it is revealed that one has a child, but no husband. Yet, despite his presence in #MiniMilah’s life, I AM A SINGLE MOTHER. I have only recently come across people who challenge that because of his involvement. Two former classmates have said that I am a mother who is a single woman. No. When I have my munchkin, which is more often than not, I have her to myself. I am having a solo parenting experience in many ways. When I come home tired, broken, sick, frustrated and I’m greeted by a child who needs everything? That falls on me. My ex and I do not share visitation time. When she is with him, she’s with him. When she’s with me, she’s with me. I do my part alone and I’m not going to just run out and find the first Negro willing to marry me so that I can have some help. I am a single mom.

2) HOWEVER, you won’t hear me talk about this at length again. I believe in being deliberate about what you put into the universe. And there are some women who have so greatly ensconced themselves in the “I’m a STRONG Single Mother, and I can do it all!” cape that it becomes so central to their identity, I wonder how a partner could ever fit in if they wanted to. I like men, I like dating and I like being in a relationship. I like kids and I might could want another one some day (I’d remove my uterus before ever having a sad pregnancy and solo mom journey again because FUCK THAT, it was sad dinnamug—-for me). So I won’t be ‘wed’ to this single mom stuff. It is a stop on my journey. I might have a Goldie Hawn-Kurt Russell baes forever relationship. I might have two future husbands. Who knows? But I’m dope, my kid is dope and I got my shit together. I don’t see me being alone. Some of you may say different, but that would just mean you aren’t the sort of person I’d rock with any way. Bye, Ashy.

And while there is a lot of judgement around my choices, I’ll say this (ALL SHADE): I’ll probably be partnered before some of these tounge-cluckers because not only am I dope, I’m not out here ‘Being Mary Jane’ with someone else’s husband…and worst case scenario, if I never have a man again, I do have someone who will make sure I’m never dead in my apartment for 3 years without being unnoticed. Someone who’s love for me is more sweet and perfect than anything else I’ve ever known. Life is about having what matters, not what looks good on paper.

I was transparent about my story not because I have something to prove, but because even with this tiny modicum of notoriety I have, someone was going to tell it for me sooner than later. When you google me, “pregnant” is the second or third search term. Someone cared, obviously. I wanted to control the narrative and also let other families know that as long as your child is LOVED and all deserving parties are respected…don’t worry about no one else. A LOT of people have told me that my disclosure helped them find or get closer to peace with their own complicated situations. Mission accomplished and I don’t need to speak about how #MiniMilah got here ever again. I’ve made choices, good and bad, I own them all. Hope you can say the same, champ.

That’s all I have to say. It’s Friday, it’s my night off and where the honeys?