She just called me her baby girl. It’s only been a week or so. I was so happy. I belonged to someone. I was someone’s daughter. But why is it only in private?
A lady at Wendy’s hamburger place asked if Betty is my “friend.” I said, that’s my mom and friend. Later Betty went up for a refill and told her we’re just friends. She came back to the table and told me not to ” start up with that again.” Don’t worry, I’ll never let you close enough to ever want to be your daughter.
You’re too stupid to know what that woman at the register actually asked me. I don’t participate in that lifestyle anymore but people still pick up on it.
The rest of lunch was strained, especially when Betty asked, “Is the rest of your family in Africa?”…… I told her how my grandfather got here with his parents when he was 10 yrs old. She knows the story.
The angrier I became, the quieter I got.
I’m not a closet friend. I’m not someone you call your daughter and baby girl in private but in public I’m just your friend. I’d like to go back to Wendy’s and tell the lady you were not my type before I abandoned that life and you’re not my type now.
I don’t belong to anyone. That’s something I can’t fix. I wish I didn’t want it so badly.
I’m Congolese. I’m African American in the truest sense. I embrace a lot of my heritage but my human heart wants what transcends race and nationality. I need a mother’s love.