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Sometimes, people ask me what I hate the most. They assume I’ll say it’s wherever I go to the store and the manager follows me around. Or the fact that I’m an African American male and there’s always going to be some negative outlook on my actions. Or it’s the fact that I’m just some kid who’s slowly loosing my mind because insecurities and being fatherless has caused me not to use my heart as much and disconnect from the world at times. All of those are true; all of those are the things I do hate… but this isn’t true at the same time. I can live with all of those adversities and have the tenacity to keep pushing and achieve my goals. But the thing I hate the most is when people disrespect my mother.
You see, my mother is all I got in this world full of sin and people who claim they’re on my side and forever will. Those people are just temporary they will buy another jersey soon. You see I’m never tripping about them because I know my number one fan, my mother, will be there even in the afterlife.
My mother raised me from the day my father got up and left. When people looked at me funny and confused me for a girl because I had long hair as a young kid. When I was diagnosed with ADHD in the 6th or 7th grade. When people told me not to pick up a mic and pour my emotions into my music. My mother is the most important thing in my life, even when things are hard.
My mother made me the person I am today. I always listened to my mom even when I covered it up with ignorance and anger because I didn’t like what she wanted me to do. She knew what was the right thing for me. What roads I should follow and to make sure not to go down the ones that said “dead end”. My mother taught me to love my skin in a world with ignorant ideas like the fact that god didn’t wash our skin except the bottom of my hands and feet. She taught me to treat women like queens not some type of object. She taught me to use my feelings even though the males aren’t suppose too. She imbedded the word “respect” in my brain. She’s taught me so much and I’m only 17.
My mother might not be the best to other people, but to me she deserves the mother of the year award. Not because she held this 11-pound baby for nine months, but the fact that she loves me more than anyone else will, and I know that’s true. I’m a momma’s boy and I say it proudly and I don’t care what people have to say about it. If it makes me seem weak, then let me be weak at least I got my mommy by my side. So when people ask what makes me mad, I pause for a second, make them think I’m going to say something that they would expect, then respond by saying when people talk about my momma bear.