NOW, before you crucify me, take a moment, feel all your righteous indignation and get it out of your system, take a deep breath, clear your mind, and read on.
This blog is borne out of watching actor Terry Crews on The View here: http://blacklikemoi.com/2014/06/terry-crews-says-every-child-needs-father-pummeled-tv/
His basic argument is that there are things only a Father (or Father Figure) can give a child. And holy shit, does Jenny McCarthy go off on him. Her reaction was about HER ego, not about the validity of his statement. She was clearly offended at the suggestion that she couldn't be the be-all-end-all for her son Evan.
Take a look at social media at any given time, but especially around Mother's Day and Father's Day, and listen to all the man-bashing that a lot of single moms do. They dog the deadbeat baby daddy for not being around, not taking care of their kids, etc. Watch any episode of Maury and hear how these fatherless babies have to go without ample food and clothes and diapers all because the daddy isn't around and providing financial support. Children grow and sometimes develop into juvenile delinquents and the first thing people talk about is the absence of his or her father in their lives. Men talk about their relationships with dysfunctional women and chalk up the difficulties to her "Daddy issues". All because of an absent father.
So now, when men are becoming more and more aware of the adverse effects that the absence of a father has on the lives of their children, and the conversations are happening in our communities, now we have these single moms saying "Screw you! My children don't need a father"??? Are you serious?
The only innocent victims in parent wars is the child. Not a single child born, under any circumstance, came into being of their own free will. Two adults laid down together and created a child. BOTH parents need to set their own egos aside and do what needs to be done in the best interest of the child. And yes ladies, sometimes that means accepting that you are NOT the center of attention, that a man does not want YOU but wants to be with his child. And you need to get over it.
If you don't think your child needs a father, then stop bitching about being a single mother.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Father's Day for the Father-less
When I was little, Father's Day was for my Grandpa. I didn't have a dad, but I had Grandpa and I loved him more than anything. Then, something happened and we weren't as close as we once had been. Father's Day was still for Grandpa though. I still didn't have a dad, but I still had Grandpa. Then as I got older, I still didn't feel as close to my Grandpa as when I was little, but things were better than they were in my teenage years. Father's Day didn't mean a whole lot. I don't even remember if I made the effort to go "home" for the cook out that we had every year. I'm guessing I rolled through for a minute but I doubt I made any concerted effort. By this time, I was completely self-absorbed in my own life and doing my own thing.
And then my Grandpa died. And with it, Father's Day. I didn't have a dad, and now I didn't have a Grandpa anymore. So what was the point?
See, I never had a dad. My dad wasn't absent from my life... he was non-existent. For the first decade or so of my life, I assumed my dad was the same dad that my brother and sister had. He was an alcoholic who spent his days in various states of oblivion. He never came around on any of our birthdays or Christmas or Father's Day or, well, ever. When I was about 10, my mom pulled me aside and told me that my dad was not the same as my brother and sister's. She had been split from their dad and got together with this other guy ("Ed"). She loved him and all, but found out he was married (separated, really, according to her. But it was 1969 and divorce was not common like it is now). She broke it off with him, and found out she was pregnant with me. She never told him that she was pregnant, and hid the pregnancy under baggy sweaters until she went into labor.
Only immediate family was told about me those first few days... I guess they wanted to make sure I wasn't going to be given up for adoption before everyone got the news. But she kept me and there I was. We never talked about my biological father again, not for a really long time. I was always curious, but I felt like if I asked any questions, it would be mistaken as some kind of slight against my mom or my grandparents and the sacrifices they made to keep me and raise me. So I kept my questions to myself.
In my mid-to-late 20s, my mom started dating this guy Ed. In what seemed like a heartbeat, she was living with him. The house my great grandfather built and the one I grew up in was being taken by the bank, Grandpa was moving into a retirement home and mom and Ed were getting their own apartment.
Ed was... well... a piece of work. Another alcoholic, one who was in and out of jail SO many times, mostly for drunk driving. He was inappropriate, making overt sexual comments and innuendos all the time. I could go on and on and on about all the ways in which he was an awful excuse for a human being, but suffice it to say that no one in our family liked him.
Fast forward to Mother's Day one year. I organized a family dinner to celebrate the day: me, my brother, my sister and her family, my uncle (my mom's brother) and his family, my mom and Ed. Once everyone arrives, my mom makes her BIG announcement: She has a new daughter!
See, years and years ago, before Ed went off to Vietnam, he impregnated a woman who gave birth to a daughter. She told him he was a father; he abandoned the woman and the child. The child, now an adult with a daughter of her own and living in California, tracked down Ed, made contact, and was coming out to Green Bay to meet her daddy. Coincidentally, this meeting was scheduled for Father's Day weekend and my mom would like to cordially invite all of us to come out and welcome the newest members of our family.
None of us reacted well. It was the quietest family dinner in the history of the world. We all went our separate ways the moment dinner was over. By the time I got home, my mom was on the phone having her usual "woe-is-me, I'm-such-a-victim" moment, and I lost my cool. I gave her one chance, and one chance only, to back away from the door she was about to open with me. Instead of leaving well enough alone, she not only opened the door but she ripped the door off its hinges.
I went IN on her! How could she be so insensitive to her own children, especially me? I mean, at least my brother and sister knew who their father was. For over 30 years, she had kept who my father was secret. He never knew she was pregnant, so didn't know he had a daughter in the world. She stole over 30 of my birthdays and more than 30 of his birthdays and Christmases and summer vacations and my high school graduation and my college graduation away from me and MY father. And now she expected everyone to accept "her new daughter" with open arms? After this pathetic excuse of a man had knowingly abandoned his own child? Knowingly and purposely missed out on all of those birthdays and Christmases and summer vacations and graduations with his daughter?
Over the course of the next few months, I had several conversations with my mom about my biological father and who he was. Each conversation offered a different story about who he was, how they met and why his identity was kept a secret. Each story was not thought out very well though, and I exposed all of her lies. So many lies that I can't believe anything she says. Ever. About anything. But based on the last story I got, my biological father was an only child, born to a mother and a father who were both themselves only children. And they're all dead.
So here we are, another Father's Day that is just another day to me. I don't have a dad, and I don't have a Grandpa anymore.
And then my Grandpa died. And with it, Father's Day. I didn't have a dad, and now I didn't have a Grandpa anymore. So what was the point?
See, I never had a dad. My dad wasn't absent from my life... he was non-existent. For the first decade or so of my life, I assumed my dad was the same dad that my brother and sister had. He was an alcoholic who spent his days in various states of oblivion. He never came around on any of our birthdays or Christmas or Father's Day or, well, ever. When I was about 10, my mom pulled me aside and told me that my dad was not the same as my brother and sister's. She had been split from their dad and got together with this other guy ("Ed"). She loved him and all, but found out he was married (separated, really, according to her. But it was 1969 and divorce was not common like it is now). She broke it off with him, and found out she was pregnant with me. She never told him that she was pregnant, and hid the pregnancy under baggy sweaters until she went into labor.
Only immediate family was told about me those first few days... I guess they wanted to make sure I wasn't going to be given up for adoption before everyone got the news. But she kept me and there I was. We never talked about my biological father again, not for a really long time. I was always curious, but I felt like if I asked any questions, it would be mistaken as some kind of slight against my mom or my grandparents and the sacrifices they made to keep me and raise me. So I kept my questions to myself.
In my mid-to-late 20s, my mom started dating this guy Ed. In what seemed like a heartbeat, she was living with him. The house my great grandfather built and the one I grew up in was being taken by the bank, Grandpa was moving into a retirement home and mom and Ed were getting their own apartment.
Ed was... well... a piece of work. Another alcoholic, one who was in and out of jail SO many times, mostly for drunk driving. He was inappropriate, making overt sexual comments and innuendos all the time. I could go on and on and on about all the ways in which he was an awful excuse for a human being, but suffice it to say that no one in our family liked him.
Fast forward to Mother's Day one year. I organized a family dinner to celebrate the day: me, my brother, my sister and her family, my uncle (my mom's brother) and his family, my mom and Ed. Once everyone arrives, my mom makes her BIG announcement: She has a new daughter!
See, years and years ago, before Ed went off to Vietnam, he impregnated a woman who gave birth to a daughter. She told him he was a father; he abandoned the woman and the child. The child, now an adult with a daughter of her own and living in California, tracked down Ed, made contact, and was coming out to Green Bay to meet her daddy. Coincidentally, this meeting was scheduled for Father's Day weekend and my mom would like to cordially invite all of us to come out and welcome the newest members of our family.
None of us reacted well. It was the quietest family dinner in the history of the world. We all went our separate ways the moment dinner was over. By the time I got home, my mom was on the phone having her usual "woe-is-me, I'm-such-a-victim" moment, and I lost my cool. I gave her one chance, and one chance only, to back away from the door she was about to open with me. Instead of leaving well enough alone, she not only opened the door but she ripped the door off its hinges.
I went IN on her! How could she be so insensitive to her own children, especially me? I mean, at least my brother and sister knew who their father was. For over 30 years, she had kept who my father was secret. He never knew she was pregnant, so didn't know he had a daughter in the world. She stole over 30 of my birthdays and more than 30 of his birthdays and Christmases and summer vacations and my high school graduation and my college graduation away from me and MY father. And now she expected everyone to accept "her new daughter" with open arms? After this pathetic excuse of a man had knowingly abandoned his own child? Knowingly and purposely missed out on all of those birthdays and Christmases and summer vacations and graduations with his daughter?
Over the course of the next few months, I had several conversations with my mom about my biological father and who he was. Each conversation offered a different story about who he was, how they met and why his identity was kept a secret. Each story was not thought out very well though, and I exposed all of her lies. So many lies that I can't believe anything she says. Ever. About anything. But based on the last story I got, my biological father was an only child, born to a mother and a father who were both themselves only children. And they're all dead.
So here we are, another Father's Day that is just another day to me. I don't have a dad, and I don't have a Grandpa anymore.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
The Clippers' Silent Support of Donald Sterling
Friday night, April 26th, I had the pleasure to
see the film NOTHING BUT A MAN, a film originally released 50 years ago,
directed by Jewish Holocaust survivor Michael Roemer, depicting what he saw as the
Black experience in 1950s-60s America.
Saturday, April 27th, sports news was dominated
by the racially-charged recording between LA Clippers owner Donald Sterling
(white) and his girlfriend (mixed Black and Mexican). The recording was
offensive, no doubt. But I am pretty outraged at the reaction of the Clippers
players and many of the NBA Talking Heads.
In a press conference with Doc Rivers, he was asked and
answered as follows:
Q: Did you consider boycotting the game?
A: “We’re playing. We’re playing Golden State, and Golden State is our enemy right now. … We heard about all of the boycotts and all of the other stuff. That’s all stuff we could do. We choose to play. … The biggest statement we can make as men – not as black men, but as men – is to stick together and show how strong we are as a group. Not splinter. Not walk. It’s easy to protest. The protest will show in our play.”
A: “We’re playing. We’re playing Golden State, and Golden State is our enemy right now. … We heard about all of the boycotts and all of the other stuff. That’s all stuff we could do. We choose to play. … The biggest statement we can make as men – not as black men, but as men – is to stick together and show how strong we are as a group. Not splinter. Not walk. It’s easy to protest. The protest will show in our play.”
Mr. Rivers, you are wrong. The easy thing
to do is to play the game and take this jerk one step closer to a Championship.
I understand as a pro athlete, the Championship is why they play. But this is
bigger than a Game, the 1st round of the playoffs, a Ring and/or a
Trophy. For decades, people have sacrificed and suffered and too many have laid
down their lives so that Black players could even be invited to play in the NBA.
Listening to Shaq, Charles Barkley and Kenny Anderson on TNT,
all were understandably outraged. All called for an immediate suspension and
fine by NBA Commissioner Adam Silver. But when the idea of a player boycott was
raised? All of them put on the brakes. Barkley opined that the players shouldn’t
have to pay because the owner was a “jackass”.
During the Civil Rights era, and the decades before and
since, so many nameless people suffered and sacrificed in order to stand up for
equality. They lost jobs, their homes, in many cases, lost their lives. But we can’t ask a group of
MILLIONAIRE basketball players to sacrifice? Really? If those 12 players banded
together and chose to not show up for the game (even better, if the 12 Clippers
players and the 12 Warriors players
refused to play the game), the message that would be sent would be louder and
clearer than anything we anonymous but outraged folks could hope to send.
But no…
we can’t ask those players to sacrifice. We can ask the fans to sacrifice and
stay away from the games. But we can’t ask the players to sacrifice. Playing
the game is tantamount to silently supporting Sterling’s words and actions.
THAT is unacceptable.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Spitting on Black History
I don't know if I'm necessarily "allowed" to have ask the (forthcoming) question or not. After all, this is a "black" issue and I'm a white girl. And when white folks are brought into the discussion... well, it's usually not a good thing. What's the issue? The N word.
Me, myself? I hate the word and everything it means. I don't care if it's pronounced with an "er" at the end of it, or an "a". I don't care what color the person is who says it... although to be fair, I won't admonish a black person for saying it because, quite honestly, I don't believe a white person can tell a black person not to say it. Let's be real about that. I wish I had a superpower that would allow me to eradicate it from everyone's vocabulary. Whatever context it's ever used in, there are better alternatives available.
The word is always at or near the forefront of conversation. But it seems to me, over the last several months, it's simply everywhere. It's a part of the conversation in entertainment, thanks to movies like The Butler, Fruitvale Station, and 12 Years a Slave. It's a part of the conversation in sports, thanks to Matt Barnes' recent tweet using the "a" version of the word, the Richie Incognito/Jonathan Martin fiasco in Miami, Riley Cooper's rant caught on videotape before the 2013-14 season started and the Trent Williams/Roy Ellison incident. And it's always a part of the conversation in police/community relations.
When the use of the N word comes up in conversations, many will say something to the effect that black people use the word all the time, so what's the big deal? And I have already confessed that if a black person uses the word in my presence, I won't say anything. And maybe I really don't have the right to ask this question. But I am going to ask any way... Why do black people use this word?
The word is ugly. It was meant to make slaves feel less than... meant to belittle, marginalize, shame. It was used in hatred. And I understand that when it is spoken by a white person, at a black person, it conjures up a different feeling than when used between black people with each other. I have black friends who use the word... frequently... as a term of endearment. But are you really, really telling me that people cannot think of other endearing words that could be used among friends, family and loved ones?
When you think about what slaves had to endure... the struggle for freedom... the continued struggle for rights and protections that still continue today... when you really think about the ugly, cruel, hateful meaning that word has in this nation... I can't help but think that every time that word is uttered among black folks to and at each other, that is spitting on the legacy and struggles of the ones who had to fight and bleed and die.
Me, myself? I hate the word and everything it means. I don't care if it's pronounced with an "er" at the end of it, or an "a". I don't care what color the person is who says it... although to be fair, I won't admonish a black person for saying it because, quite honestly, I don't believe a white person can tell a black person not to say it. Let's be real about that. I wish I had a superpower that would allow me to eradicate it from everyone's vocabulary. Whatever context it's ever used in, there are better alternatives available.
The word is always at or near the forefront of conversation. But it seems to me, over the last several months, it's simply everywhere. It's a part of the conversation in entertainment, thanks to movies like The Butler, Fruitvale Station, and 12 Years a Slave. It's a part of the conversation in sports, thanks to Matt Barnes' recent tweet using the "a" version of the word, the Richie Incognito/Jonathan Martin fiasco in Miami, Riley Cooper's rant caught on videotape before the 2013-14 season started and the Trent Williams/Roy Ellison incident. And it's always a part of the conversation in police/community relations.
When the use of the N word comes up in conversations, many will say something to the effect that black people use the word all the time, so what's the big deal? And I have already confessed that if a black person uses the word in my presence, I won't say anything. And maybe I really don't have the right to ask this question. But I am going to ask any way... Why do black people use this word?
The word is ugly. It was meant to make slaves feel less than... meant to belittle, marginalize, shame. It was used in hatred. And I understand that when it is spoken by a white person, at a black person, it conjures up a different feeling than when used between black people with each other. I have black friends who use the word... frequently... as a term of endearment. But are you really, really telling me that people cannot think of other endearing words that could be used among friends, family and loved ones?
When you think about what slaves had to endure... the struggle for freedom... the continued struggle for rights and protections that still continue today... when you really think about the ugly, cruel, hateful meaning that word has in this nation... I can't help but think that every time that word is uttered among black folks to and at each other, that is spitting on the legacy and struggles of the ones who had to fight and bleed and die.
Crying Rape?
Ex-NFL player and current on-air personality at NFL Network,
Darren Sharper has been arrested for two incidents of sexual assault in Los
Angeles in October 2013 and January 2014.
In addition, he is being investigated for sexual assault that allegedly occurred
in New Orleans in September 2013.
There are no details about the women who have made these
allegations. But I don’t need to know the details to see some concerns. The
accused is a black man, a professional athlete with some money and fame. He has
a public life, a good looking guy, with women everywhere who are more than
willing to do whatever it is that gets him off.
But, rape isn’t a crime about sex. It’s a crime about power
and privilege. Prisons are filled with sex offenders who, at first glance, are
attractive and “good catches”. Often times, these men are used to getting
whatever they want, from whoever they want.
I have a friend who is a New Orleans Saints fan. The years
that Sharper played there, and still today, she has a little crush on him. Her
reaction to the news of the arrest was not a surprise, and is probably quite
common. She said, in no uncertain terms, that she will believe this woman was
assaulted if she does NOT settle out-of-court for money. Wow.
Anyone who has been assaulted will tell you that reporting
the assault and everything afterwards is almost worse than the assault itself.
A woman’s sexual history, fashion sense, relationship choices, personality and
behaviors (does she drink? ever smoke anything? did she flirt? etc.) are
examined over and over and over. HIS past behavior is off limits… hers will be
on full display. Rape is one of the hardest, if not the hardest crime to
prosecute successfully. Even with DNA evidence, it often boils down to
he-said-she-said.
It’s a no-win situation for all parties involved. If they do
not prosecute him, it’s inevitable that the accuser(s) file civil actions. When
they do, the general public will assume they are liars and they are after the
money. If they do prosecute and he’s
acquitted, people will still always wonder if he did it. He will always have
the allegation of being a rapist hanging over his head. And the accuser(s) will
probably file civil actions under these circumstances too. And of course if he’s
convicted, he goes to prison, has to register as a sex offender for the rest of
his life, and she has to live with the rape for the rest of hers. Honestly, I will be shocked if there’s an
actual trial on the two rape charges in LA, and if anything transpires from the
investigation in New Orleans. I predict this will end up in civil court and
that there will be settlements reached.
But why believe the women are lying if they settle, and not
believe he’s the liar? I mean, if it
was me being accused of sexual assault, and I have the money to hire proper
legal representation, I am going to court. I am taking the risk that I will
lose, but no matter what the outcome of the civil action, I can always stand
tall and say “Hey! I didn’t do it, and I went to court to prove it!” By
settling, doesn’t he kind of admit that he’d rather pay whatever the settlement
is, than have his dirty laundry aired
in public? She’s willing to let it all out by bringing the civil action, so him
settling… doesn’t that make him the “bad guy” and not her?
Regardless, every false report of a sexual assault makes it
just that much harder for the next woman who really is assaulted to report. And
while I do not wish for any woman to have been raped, I hope these women are
not just “crying rape”.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
The Exploitation of a 2 year old's murder
The New York Post is about the last resource I would ever use or recommend for actual news or fact-based reporting. But even I am shocked and disgusted at the opinion piece written by Phil Mushnick and published by the Post. Maybe not SO shocked, after seeing his picture and seeing he's an old white guy.
Here's the link to his ridiculous opinion piece: http://nypost.com/2013/10/13/sons-death-doesnt-make-adrian-peterson-a-great-person/
And honestly, I don't know where to start. Ironically, the tragic murder of Adrian Peterson's son occurred during National Domestic Violence month. Mushnick alleges a bunch of things, only one of which has any semblance of truth: just because Peterson is a great football player doesn't mean he's a great player. That's true!! Millions of people in this world are great at a whole host of things, and are terrible people. There's millions of people who are adequate or even less-than-adequate at what they do, but are GREAT people. No one ever said being good at one's job and being a good person are a package deal.
Truth is that celebrities are judged based on their public persona. Whether it's an athlete or an actor or a singer or a politician, we assume people are how they are portrayed in the media.
The first half of Mushnick's rant is really quite stupid. Apparently, doing charity work is not special, he speeds even though his brother was killed due to a reckless driver, and he and some friends got into a bit of trouble when they didn't leave a club right at 2 AM. Petty and stupid.
But it's the rest of the opinion piece that is disturbing. Mushnick makes a negative reference to the fact that the mother of this baby was Peterson's "baby mama". I guess if she was referred to as an ex-girlfriend, it would make it all ok?
Mushnick also judges Peterson for playing football, just a couple days after the death of his son, saying he (Peterson) should be angry and take a day or two or a whole week off to grieve.
Hmmmm. I am, and will always be, a Packers fan. I will never EVER forget the Monday night game between the Packers and the Oakland Raiders the day after Brett Favre lost his father to a heart attack. Torrey Smith played just hours after his baby brother was killed in a motorcycle accident. Peterson chose to play after the death of his son.
Everyone is different, and how people grieve differs from person to person. Professional athletes have often talked about how playing their sport gives them some respite from their personal pain. It offers them a small window of time where they can focus on something else. We can't give this man 3 hours to maybe escape what is undoubtedly one of the absolute worst pains any person could ever experience? Does anyone DISAGREE that it's unnatural for a parent to bury their child?
Next, Mushnick takes the deplorable position that this is Peterson's fault, albeit indirectly. After all, he's got millions of dollars and surely could have made sure that his son was not allowed to be in a dangerous environment. He must not have cared that his ex had moved herself and their son in with a violent man. Apparently, Peterson had the opportunity (thanks to his $96 million contract) to provide a safe home for his son and chose not to.
Such harsh judgment from this Mushnick guy... when reports are that it was only 3 months ago that Peterson was even told about the existence of this boy. I don't know what happened in these past three months. I don't know if it's even true. Maybe he knew about this kid all along. Maybe he did fail his son. Maybe.... maybe not. Who am I to judge? And who is this Mushnick guy to judge?
Bottom line is the tone, the words of this piece are clearly racist. What "we" are to take away from this piece is that at the end of the day, Adrian Peterson is just another wealthy, professional black athlete with baby mamas and babies out there that he can't be bothered to support or protect. And how dare we, the rest of the world, extend our condolences.
I am ashamed of this "writer" and disgusted by this so-called newspaper. The bottom line, IMO, is that we have a 2 year old boy who was beaten to death. That's really all that matters, and I will not take back the compassion and sympathies extended not only to Adrian Peterson, but to everyone who knew and loved this little boy. I will not minimize whatever feelings Peterson may be feeling... they are his and his alone, and he has the right to them. And I will not judge Peterson, or his ex, or even Joseph Patterson.
I judge, and judge harshly, Phil Mushnick and the New York Post.
Here's the link to his ridiculous opinion piece: http://nypost.com/2013/10/13/sons-death-doesnt-make-adrian-peterson-a-great-person/
And honestly, I don't know where to start. Ironically, the tragic murder of Adrian Peterson's son occurred during National Domestic Violence month. Mushnick alleges a bunch of things, only one of which has any semblance of truth: just because Peterson is a great football player doesn't mean he's a great player. That's true!! Millions of people in this world are great at a whole host of things, and are terrible people. There's millions of people who are adequate or even less-than-adequate at what they do, but are GREAT people. No one ever said being good at one's job and being a good person are a package deal.
Truth is that celebrities are judged based on their public persona. Whether it's an athlete or an actor or a singer or a politician, we assume people are how they are portrayed in the media.
The first half of Mushnick's rant is really quite stupid. Apparently, doing charity work is not special, he speeds even though his brother was killed due to a reckless driver, and he and some friends got into a bit of trouble when they didn't leave a club right at 2 AM. Petty and stupid.
But it's the rest of the opinion piece that is disturbing. Mushnick makes a negative reference to the fact that the mother of this baby was Peterson's "baby mama". I guess if she was referred to as an ex-girlfriend, it would make it all ok?
Mushnick also judges Peterson for playing football, just a couple days after the death of his son, saying he (Peterson) should be angry and take a day or two or a whole week off to grieve.
Hmmmm. I am, and will always be, a Packers fan. I will never EVER forget the Monday night game between the Packers and the Oakland Raiders the day after Brett Favre lost his father to a heart attack. Torrey Smith played just hours after his baby brother was killed in a motorcycle accident. Peterson chose to play after the death of his son.
Everyone is different, and how people grieve differs from person to person. Professional athletes have often talked about how playing their sport gives them some respite from their personal pain. It offers them a small window of time where they can focus on something else. We can't give this man 3 hours to maybe escape what is undoubtedly one of the absolute worst pains any person could ever experience? Does anyone DISAGREE that it's unnatural for a parent to bury their child?
Next, Mushnick takes the deplorable position that this is Peterson's fault, albeit indirectly. After all, he's got millions of dollars and surely could have made sure that his son was not allowed to be in a dangerous environment. He must not have cared that his ex had moved herself and their son in with a violent man. Apparently, Peterson had the opportunity (thanks to his $96 million contract) to provide a safe home for his son and chose not to.
Such harsh judgment from this Mushnick guy... when reports are that it was only 3 months ago that Peterson was even told about the existence of this boy. I don't know what happened in these past three months. I don't know if it's even true. Maybe he knew about this kid all along. Maybe he did fail his son. Maybe.... maybe not. Who am I to judge? And who is this Mushnick guy to judge?
Bottom line is the tone, the words of this piece are clearly racist. What "we" are to take away from this piece is that at the end of the day, Adrian Peterson is just another wealthy, professional black athlete with baby mamas and babies out there that he can't be bothered to support or protect. And how dare we, the rest of the world, extend our condolences.
I am ashamed of this "writer" and disgusted by this so-called newspaper. The bottom line, IMO, is that we have a 2 year old boy who was beaten to death. That's really all that matters, and I will not take back the compassion and sympathies extended not only to Adrian Peterson, but to everyone who knew and loved this little boy. I will not minimize whatever feelings Peterson may be feeling... they are his and his alone, and he has the right to them. And I will not judge Peterson, or his ex, or even Joseph Patterson.
I judge, and judge harshly, Phil Mushnick and the New York Post.
Friday, October 11, 2013
damaged goods
his soft touch
felt only once or twice
his arms draped over me
our legs intertwined
falling asleep
waking up
happiness
even if it was only for a moment
the touch that was so soft
the hand that held me
kept me protected
in just a moment changed
what once comforted me now hurt me
the lips that kissed me now turned away
the touch that comforted me now pushed me away
but only for a moment
he didn't want me but wouldn't free me
i loved him
i needed his love
he fucked me
he used me
he hurt me
i longed for his lips
he gave me his fist
he would not look at me
would not touch me\
would not hold me
would not protect me
but he would fuck me
i went from being his queen to being his bitch
i was stupid... he told me so
i was useless... he told me so
there was nothing about me worth of love
and when he was finished with me
when he had tired of his toy
i was left alone, ruined, beyond salvation
and i remain
damaged goods
felt only once or twice
his arms draped over me
our legs intertwined
falling asleep
waking up
happiness
even if it was only for a moment
the touch that was so soft
the hand that held me
kept me protected
in just a moment changed
what once comforted me now hurt me
the lips that kissed me now turned away
the touch that comforted me now pushed me away
but only for a moment
he didn't want me but wouldn't free me
i loved him
i needed his love
he fucked me
he used me
he hurt me
i longed for his lips
he gave me his fist
he would not look at me
would not touch me\
would not hold me
would not protect me
but he would fuck me
i went from being his queen to being his bitch
i was stupid... he told me so
i was useless... he told me so
there was nothing about me worth of love
and when he was finished with me
when he had tired of his toy
i was left alone, ruined, beyond salvation
and i remain
damaged goods
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