Daddy Issues

Oh so Slutty

Somewhere along the line we decided only women who had experienced some sort of trauma or difficulty in Life could enjoy sex.  Daddy issues, molestation, underlying hatred for their mothers and a need for attention were all reasons why a woman may choose to “act out” sexually [and by “act out” I mean own her sexuality].  The idea was sold and bought by many. 

I used to run to “Daddy issues” when asked about my rather colourful sexual history. It wasn’t enough to say “I have sex with people because I want to”, it didn’t sit well with me either, at a time when I was afraid to be shamed and was only accepting of myself when alone. I had the confidence to have sex but not enough to wear my sexual freedom proudly. At the end of the day, when questioned about it, it always seemed easier and less shameful to play the victim. To seem helpless instead of admitting that I had simply done what I wanted to do.

As I’ve grown I’ve met a lot of women just like me. 

Women I’d share glasses of wine and sob stories with.

“My father was never home so that’s why I have sex with a lot of men. I need acceptance from a male figure. Any male figure.”

“My father cheated on my mother so I could never be faithful.  I’m doing to men what he did to her.”

“I don’t have a father so fuck men.. I’ll treat them how I want.”

And it all makes sense on some level, but for how long?

 

Eventually I had to realize that I couldn’t continue to blame my father for my actions/desires. I was too old and too intelligent for that. After a while playing the victim became redundant and I could not claim to be strong, responsible and in control if I couldn’t even own and admit to the things I did/wanted to do. 

The process of truly owning your sexuality isn’t a flawless one. It isn’t swift either. It involves dispelling myths and unlearning a lot of shame that has been instilled in us as we grow and that is hardly ever easy.  You have to know WHY you think as you do, what it means for your actions and behaviour and how to proceed from there. 

We can’t all be Samantha Jones, and I doubt even she was Samantha Jones from the very moment she became sexually active. It takes a lot for the average woman to say “I fuck because I want to and fuck you if you have an issue.” The society we find ourselves in isn’t often accepting of that. You’ll be called all sorts of names, often. You’ll be disrespected often. You’ll get “Who touched you?” more than you’d like to and a lot of people will look at you as an anomaly. 

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To be a proud, sexually emancipated woman often leaves one lonely.

Other women may not want to interact with you because they, in their repressed state, believe you’re a Sex Demon from Hell sent forth to test their relationships. 

Men will treat you like an accessible porn star.

And both groups will, to a certain degree, shun you.

Because in this society, a woman who enjoys her sexuality is defined by it. She becomes it in people’s eyes. 

She is a walking, talking vagina.

A creature that does more fucking than living.

Jezebel.

A nymph. 

And knowing this, I understand why many choose to be seen as weak individuals who’re ran by their insecurities and fears instead of simply a woman who likes to have sex.

When they think you can’t help it, society is a tad bit more forgiving. The insults less creative. They’ll call you a silly slut but maybe, in your mind, the “silly” before the “slut” shows some kind of compassion. 

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Understand that the same people making you feel ashamed of your desires really add nothing to your Life, so why let them take?

I can tell you this, I’ve never been broken or truly hurt in any way by the name calling.  

They are words.

Words spoken by people who lack the emotional maturity and intelligence to understand “choice” and “desire”.

Words by people who don’t respect you.

So why is their opinion relevant?

Why  are you letting their tiny brains dictate and keep you from your joy?

Fuck them. 

Fuck them all, honey. 

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“That Baby Don’t Look Like Me!”

Boy meets Girl. Boy tells his friends she’s a “Bad looking little bitch with a fat ass” and approaches.  Girl plays coy but exchanges numbers with him nonetheless.  Boy wakes up and sees an unknown number, remembers, and the flirting begins.

Two weeks later boy ends up at girl’s house. Boy and girl begin to do what grown folk do, except he doesn’t have a condom. He stops. She says her period ended two days ago so she’s on her “safe period”. Girl straddles him, kisses him softly, grinds on him, well aware of the fact that one often reaches a point of no return when Lust is involved, no matter how rational they may be otherwise. Boy stops her and says they can do this, but if she falls pregnant, he doesn’t care because he didn’t want to do this, she insisted. She says it’s fine.

Four rounds later, boy goes home.

Six months later, girl calls. She’s pregnant.

Boy hangs up.

What happened was, all of this. Except Boy is a Man in his late twenties and Girl her early twenties.

He told me his story proudly as we walked, on our way home.  With a crisp “No, fuck that bitch” at the end of it.

I was speechless.

He’s proudly saying that he wants nothing to do with a child that may be his because he told his mother he wouldn’t look after the child should she fall pregnant.  There’s a little boy out there with his genes, and he won’t acknowledge his existence because he simply doesn’t want to.

On the one hand, fine, let’s be honest, that Lady should have known better.  Whether or not she was on her “safe period”, she had sex with basically, a stranger, who outright told her he would not care about what happened afterward.  Why not get the morning after pill?

She called him hopeful. Thinking that knowing he had created a Life with her, he may care, may bother. He didn’t.

From what I gather, he once gave her a bit of money to take the boy to the clinic, other than that, he’s made no contribution towards the child’s well-being in any way. He proudly says “No, I don’t give a fuck, I told her” and continues to tell me how she recently called him to inform him she’s considering moving on to find a man to cater to her and her child’s needs, to which his response was…wait for it..Can you guess?

“I don’t give a fuck.”

I still don’t know how to feel about it. Two silly people met, had sex, and created a large mess they can’t be mature enough to resolve.

Why would a woman be that irresponsible?

Why would a man be that callous?

How could two parents be so  immature? So selfish? So.. Childish?

So Girl had a boy by the Boy and seems to be trying to be a Woman.

Boy remains a Boy.

A father to a boy who might just grow up to be just like him.

A little man who’ll grow up to relate a little too well to J.Ivy’s “Dear Father.”

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“My man comes before the children.”

I battle with the fact that there are mothers who will pick their husbands over their children. I don’t know how it works. I know wealthy, successful women who treat their children like trash and will do anything, anything for their abusive husbands.  I guess things never go well when people mistake emotional dependency for love.

 

See the thing is, I think women by now should know that romantic relationships can end. How many people have you dated that you thought would be The Last?  How many friends have you had that you lost over nonsense? Now, when it comes to family, especially extended family members but this counts for nuclear family members too..I think we love each other because we should. We don’t have a choice. We’re confined together and happen to be related so we feel the need to get along, and due to the fact that we interact so often, we grow to like each other, then love I guess. Sometimes.

But that’s with people who didn’t come out of you. People you didn’t nurse. Didn’t carry. Only have a somewhat superficial relationship with. When a woman clings to her man more than her children..I’m both saddened and disgusted.  

 

I had this friend who was born to her mother out of wedlock before her mother met and married another man. The two succeeded in their respective career paths and are now quite wealthy, with two children who came after her first daughter.  From the outside honestly things look lovely and I personally wouldn’t believe some of the things that went on in that household had I not seen some of it. 

This young Lady’s mother would pounce on her at any given time and choke her daughter. She was convinced she was trying to “take her man” and would constantly tell her daughter “If anything ever happened I’m choosing my husband and children over you.”  Now this girl was beautiful, intelligent too and yet she never got the opportunity to shine because whenever she did anything good, her mother would take the opportunity to strike her down, either verbally of physically.  She was constantly told she wasn’t worth anything and would constantly break down at school. Frankly some of us were convinced she was a tad bit crazy but looking back now, what seemed surreal back then is probably a common occurrence.

Noticing her mother’s obvious distaste for her child her step father took to molesting her and would constantly remind her that if she told, her mother would never believe her. And the painful thing is, we all knew it to be true.

It’s very hard to extract yourself from painful situations when you live in that environment. Nobody is raised to believe a family is meant to be anything but Happy, but experience teaches you otherwise. I’m not sure if it’s easier to accept these things when you’re younger or older but..It is what it is.

Maybe I don’t understand. I am not a mother. Maybe there are circumstances I can’t relate to and I’m being a judgmental being. But this is my opinion. This is how I feel.

My father and I don’t have much of a relationship. Despite the fact that we live together, we haven’t said anything more than “Dumelang” to each other since before Christmas. I’m not about to tell you why, it’s not relevant, but I will tell you what I learned about “Love”,marriage and respect from one experience.

 

When I was in High School I came home tipsy one evening. It wasn’t that late, but it was later than usual.  I was probably 15 and according to my parents I had already started a downward spiral into whatever Hell they thought a little Black girl could end up in.  

My father called me into their room and my mother was there. He proceeded to tell me why he didn’t like my behaviour and everything was fine, I understood where he was coming from, til he got mad. At some point during his tirade he said to me “You’re never going to be anything. I can tell. You’re going to grow up to be a prostitute selling your body for alcohol and I’m ashamed I even have to share my name with you. I should’ve let you die when I had the opportunity to tell the doctors to.” [I was a breech baby.  And my mother had a particularly hard time during my birth. At some point the doctors believed neither of us would survive] Anyway,at this point I begin to cry, bawl really. I wasn’t ready for that. Not in the least. A teenager had come home slightly tipsy to that. But at that point what really ripped me apart was the fact that my mother never once defended me or told him he was out of order. I was young, I did not have a voice then and could do nothing but cry. She, was closer to his equal than I was. Instead she turned away and waited for him to finish. I sat there well after he was done, waiting..and she still said nothing. I walked to my room with the realization that I was not the one. In the end, my tears had done nothing and she had let him say what he did. I was second to a man she didn’t even need in her Life.  And I’m not sure how I feel about that to this day.

I spoke to her about it much later and she said she “couldn’t” say anything because he had to discipline me and it was not her place to go against anything he said. That time, that moment there, was probably when I started giving a fuck less about marriage and obedience.

I don’t think obedience is an excuse. I don’t think one can hide behind “respect”.  I think it’s pathetic and sad. And no good can come from mistaking emotional dependency for Love. None. 

I also wonder if it’s ever worth it.. Because in the end you know you’re merely grovelling for affection from someone who has no time for you,and you’re turning away from what really HAS a connection to you, to beg. I don’t know if it could ever be easy, nor if it’s ever necessary. I think not. 

What’s Love got to do with Shit?

“We accept the Love we think we deserve” <—— Some cliche shit that makes the utmost sense.

It’s been said a woman will almost always go for the man who reminds her of her father,and I assume the Ladies who grew up fatherless because Daddy just couldn’t be bothered will at some point seek out and adore the Rolling Stone. She will want to love him and tie him down in order to prove that maybe,fuck,maybe Daddy would have stayed if Mommy tried hard enough.

To my friends who assume their lives would be better if their good-for-nothing fathers would have stayed I often say “Sometimes no father is better than a shit father.” It’s funny,I have one,you don’t,and we’re both clearly fucked up.

When you grow up with a womanizing father who treats your mother like a leper servant and lets you know that,really,women aren’t worth much,you don’t really know how to act. Like you aren’t all that important because you’re a mere woman,or like a Goddess because Daddy loved you.

Cos Daddy was God,you know? He was the Moral Compass, the Provider, The Truth. He was the one you could not question, touch and sometimes, couldn’t see. But his presence was always felt.

Daddy was also the reason why you sometimes felt like you lived in a haunted house. Daddy was the reason why Mother never really slept right and had a make up budget she couldn’t afford. He was the reason why maids never stayed and your aunts never visited. He was the reason why you knew what a penis looked like before your friends and why you were so good at keeping secrets.

But Daddy loved you.

As he loved Mama [With his fists].

And loved His mother [With silence].

And loved his women [With sex].

That was Male Affection. And now,that is what you live and crave for.

You fuck them,trap a few,fight them,break them then go silent.

Because that is all you know. That’s that love shit.

I understand exactly why things tend to be as they are. Being Daddy’s Girl means you love as he did,but you are also what he attempted to love,and failed.

Hurt people hurt others and it’s not your fault. You don’t know HOW to love purely,as they do in the songs..You relate to songs about rejection, meaningless sex and heartbreak, Love, True Love that ends with joy, marriage and comfort is for the birds.

Because Love,your Love,cannot be peaceful.

But what’s Love got to do with Shit anyway?

It’s “Fuck it,I don’t need a man” then one night stands til you lose count.

It’s “I’m not capable of Love” then tears at midnight.

It’s “I’m a Goddess” then that “I’m a bad bitch” text… tumblr_mgfhhoGBn11qd2487o1_500