I started a discussion on Facebook today about children and whether we adults owe them access to their non-custodial parent’s family. Know that I do personally know a few awesome dads who do the then and the then-some, so this one is just as valid for you guys–do you allow your kids access to the mother’s family? Further, what if you’re more than willing to share, but nobody’s asking? How much responsibility do you have to ensure the kids are aware of their relatives, and can access them?
Yes, a mess! But this is my reality, and you know what we do here–we tell the truth. I saw this video where a guy recited a passionate poem about not having ideal access to his son, and how the mother relocated, and now he gets his son from the airport on his weeks,… Lots of people are jumping on the angry bandwagon about how women are so terrible for this, but I’m more interested in why she cut him off, and moved far away, took him through the court system, and all that–I happen to know things are not always as they appear in these situations. But he sounded good pleading his case on stage….
So with that, recently I’ve been talking a lot about the custody thing, and arguing about access, and I had a conversation with my daughter that made me sit down and think, then put it out here for you–she said if she saw some of her relatives now, she would absolutely be angry, distant, and she made this face…not happy with them. She said it’s one thing that her father wasn’t there, but they could have been. They just chose not to be. But I’m not completely sad about it, because she and her sister (father’s daughter) are very close. I’m happy she has that, because she gets some knowledge and some access to key individuals through that bond. Still, she feels like she’s missing pieces of herself, was robbed of what belongs to her, and she’s pissed. But she’s not pissed with me, because I reached out many times, and I made it clear that she could have everything and everyone that belongs to her. It just never materialized. She’s the one losing.
I look at my sons, and their situations aren’t exactly the same, but what is similar is a man saying he would be there, and his son would know that, but failing to do so consistently. I wrote a poem called Daggers which talks about the half-ass and the absentee fathers–they’re the same for all intents and purposes. Busy with their lives, their kids, their women, their cars or money or whatever the drug of choice that has them chasing that next high, and forsaking the young black men who need them to be responsible and guide them.
They talk like it’s about what I want them to be doing, when it’s about the fact that I can’t raise responsible, strong, intelligent black men with the same knowledge and experience they have, cause I don’t have it. Maybe they don’t have it either, so I’ll keep looking for that kind of support for my sons. I wrote a piece in The Sun Hasn’t Set where the woman asks a panel of women which is worse–having no father at all, or having one who teaches your son ignorance. I have no problem saying that was all me in there. I wanna know. Meanwhile, all I can do is reach out, keep the door open, and pray for the folks who are too busy or too ignorant to reach back and do better for the boys’ sake. It ain’t over til it’s over.
I’m pissed. Times three. But the goal is still the goal, and my job hasn’t changed. I said it in my poem A Call to Action, and again I’ll say we need the village. Our children are being lost because the village has split into a bunch of individuals with “not my problem, not my day” mentality. Healthy, whole children are not on the individual agenda. The children are losing. Sad part is we could stop it if we just wanted to.
From the Mind of:
Tonya D. Floyd
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