I watch the movements of our hoods and I observe the things that keep us stagnant. I study the outdated curriculum that our streets learn and live by. And I realize that the misplaced puzzle pieces to our homes are wrongly placed together to make incorrect pictures of our families.
And the broken families begin with the relationships with the broken parents. Yes, the baby mommas and baby daddies. And damn, I hate to call us that, but sometime we deserve a bogus ass title when we exemplify bogus behavior.
This week, starting tomorrow, myself and one of the dopest writers I know, John Fountain III, will write a series of love letters on baby daddy and baby momma love...and hate. It's an element of society, an aspect of our hoods, that is strongly misunderstood and extremely destructive.
So we'll give it to you, the hard, honest, beautiful, fucked up truth. The truth that has our generations falling like Alicia Keys, is that we can't mend these relationships because we're ashamed of them, hurt by them. And so our anger is displaced, causing family commotions and children neglect.
Time for the truth. Or at least ours.
Love,
Vee
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