According to the Oxford dictionary, a bastard is defined as a person born of unmarried parents; an illegitimate baby, child or adult. It is also defined as a hybrid, an animal, person or plant born out of two different species or races...especially by accident. Then there is off course my favourite, the more informal meaning of the word, which contends that a bastard is an obnoxious or despicable person. Wow, all these definitions...interesting.
Now I'm not writing this piece to do a comparative analysis between a bastard and a bitch. As far as I'm concerned a woman has every right to be a bitch if she wants to. Just don't bitch when you are around me, and please oh please do not nag me when I'm drinking beer and watching TV, because then I'll just think OK i got me another nagger...Then I'm outta there faster than you can ask: does this look fat on me?
OK sisters, lets get one thing straight, I love you all, I think you are the most beautiful creation God hath made on this planet. I cant even begin to imagine what life would be without you beautiful queens by my side, and besides you were created out of my rib so each and everyone of you out there is a flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood and you shall bear me future princes, warriors and princesses, for you are woman and God is you, because your bodies are just oh so heavenly, so please don't ask me if you look fat in anything, cause chances are you do and I like it that way. Besides, I wouldn't stick around if you didn't look good in anything, and I think you look very sexy in my soccer jersey after a steamy hot session of you know what.
With all that said ladies, with all those feelings of love and sense of belonging when we engage in pillow talk, I am still a bastard. I was born out of wedlock, was raised by a single parent and never had shit. the only thing I have going for me is a supportive mother, sister, daughter and an honours degree which has seen me rise above my peers who had all the wonderful opportunities that life in a free democratic South Africa could offer.
I on the other hand was born black, grew up poor, and now living in my prime, destined for greater things such money...lots and lots of money, which is what motivates me to be the best I can be. You see, what makes me a truly remarkable bastard is that beyond my self centered black-ass bastard persona, I have never forgotten about my roots and the pain my mama suffered to make me what I am today. I'm a lucky bastard, how else would I explain how I came about today? hnm?? Got me thinking again and getting carried away. You see, being a lucky bastard created enemies for me along the way in my short life.
There were and still are people who wanted to see me fail, people who wanted to see me down and out so they could stand on my chest with one foot and do a victory dance. Weight after weight of hate and bickering, gossip and slander, trickery and spit was piled on my shoulders. I was told I would never mount to anything, and would end up as a another figure in the crime statistics. There was a time when I even started to believe it, I would start thinking that maybe the only way out for me was to remain as an insignificant shit pellet, hanging from a pubic hair on the crack of the world's backside. Aah..the Irony, today I can smile when I look at my graduation pictures, the smile on my mama's face is priceless.
When I put money in her hand and tell her to buy whatever she likes, when I buy groceries at home, when I take my grandmother out to Spur on her birthday. When my daughter says she wants a bicycle and gets a bicycle. That's what I have lived for and that is what makes me a truly remarkable bastard, born out of wedlock, never shit but living a life that most in our poverty stricken country could ever dream of.
Now sister girl, my beautiful queen, with all this weight on our shoulders why is it that us good niggas have to pay for all the shit your past boyfriend's did? I have heard it all, men are dogs, men are all the same, I don't need a man to make me happy, he is not good enough for you, do this do that yap yap, yap yap yap fuckidy yap yap. Get over it!...I'm not here to sponge off you, I'm not here to live rent free. I'm here to love you and treat you like the true African princess that you are. I love everything about you, your thick lips, big ass and stretch marks that come with it.
I will never ask you to go and get breast implants or a liposuction, but I will ask you to accompany me to the gym so that we can live a long and sexually pleasant life. It is not about your weight and what you got, it's about who you are and what you want. Just maybe, did you stop to think about the fact that the reason why I'm looking for some nooky outside our home is because you have a headache every night and are concerned that maybe all I want from you is sex and nothing more? Get over it, there are only two tubes that lead to man's heart. One is the Oesophagus which, leads to the stomach and the other is the urinal which excretes a substance associated with pure sexual bliss. So let's get one with straight, before you bitch about niggas who don't do anything except eat, sleep, shit and live for free in your apartment.
Maybe you should actually get out of your cocoon and open your heart to all the good, successful, hard working niggas out there. I like the irony though, when we don't have shit and don't work for a living, its a problem...when we do have shit and work hard for a living...It's another problem. You just gotta love our beautiful sisters emotional, yet irrational complexities at times.
Now, stop the male bashing, get me another beer, feed me and quietly wait in the bedroom for your king to return. Or you can watch the game with me and agree to everything I about the stupid referee.
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