Baby Daddy Issues

On Fathers' Day this year I went on what can only be termed a rant about the absent fathers women complain about on social networks every Fathers’ Day.  So impassioned were my sanctimonious ravings they drew the eye of some men on my friends’ lists. And the scorn of many a woman I must confess.

The gist of my argument is this; by mere virtue of their genders; men are not given much choice when it comes to deciding whether or not they want to be father and are ready to be fathers; when that inevitable “mistake” happens.

Predictably women were vehemently opposed to my sentiments. “Men have the right and responsibility to use a condom even if a woman says she’s on contraceptives” was the general consensus.

Yawn.

Shoulda.  Coulda. Woulda!

Who gives a stuff what a man MUST do to protect himself when the egg is already broken and a cute little embryo is ensconced in a placenta? The damage is done; he cannot undo it.

However, a woman can. She can waltz into a Marie Stoppes clinic and order an abortion with a side of D&C thank you very much! Even if the man begs her to consider keeping the baby she will flip her ponytail, jump on her figurative soapbox and wax lyrical about “my body my rules”.  He will not have a say.

Flip it on the other side; guy shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugs his shoulders and says; “Sorry darlin’ I still just wanna hang out with my mates and bang boots with fitties for a while yet. No thanks to diaper changes.”

Whoa!

Whoa!

How dare he? He had the sex, he must pay the price! He will be a father whether he wants to or not! And guess what? He is already a father because, hey hey hey, the baby is growing in the woman’s body and bar a gruesome scene involving scalpels and no anaesthesia, he cannot do bugger all about it. But that’s not it, just for kicks, the woman is also going to throw in a child maintenance suit just in case the bastard thinks he can get away scot free.

I concede a few points for the other side; if a man does not want children at that time he should use condoms, just to be on the safe side because there are women who will intentionally use a pregnancy to saddle a man to them. (Yes, there are, don’t sit there looking incredulous like I’m making this up). Someone suggested a man has a vasectomy, could I suggest that person stops talking nonsense, unless the guy doesn’t want kids ever, a vasectomy is irreversible. Also, by using a condom, a guy also performs the dual purpose of protecting both himself and his partner from STIs and the like.

Another point I do concede is that an abortion remains the woman’s prerogative. After all, it is her body. It would not be going too far however, to suggest that should she want to keep the baby for any reason, she should not saddle a man with a financial responsibility he has not sought.

*momentary hides from the deluge of abuse this often results in*

Here is my final word on this; the onus to NOT experience an unplanned, when you will then turn around and court-mandate support from a man, lies with the woman. I stand by this assertion with one argument that they use in the counter-points; after all IT IS HER BODY.

PS: This is a bigger argument than this blog; like the kid wanting to know where daddy is when it grows up, but that is something for another day.

In for a baby, in for a social grant

Early this year news reports cited “research” showing South African teens are deliberately falling pregnant in order to access social grants.

What utter bollocks.

I am not an advocate of teenage pregnancy; in fact I am vehemently against it as it interrupts a child’s life and interferes with her chances of a successful future. In rural areas (where the news reports claime there were 123 teen pregnant in one town in 2010 and 53 in Nkandla) children are faced with more challenges than those of children in urban areas. I’ll venture insofar as to say that if there are indeed children deliberately falling pregnant to access the social grant, it would likely be teens in urban areas more than those in rural areas.

The first challenge a rural teen faces is the traditional taboo attitude towards dating and socialising with boys that is common in rural areas. Parents zealously (sometimes enforcing their rules with a cane, a belt or sjambok) oppose their teenagers having boyfriends. These children are then forced to hide that they are dating because NOT dating is not an option. They’re teenagers for crying out loud!

Because of this skulking and hiding the teen is then alone in her relationship, often at the mercy of the advice of her friends and feels alienated from her parents who become Enemy No 1, it’s psychology 101, "a no-brainer" as the kids would say.

The second challenge these teens face is that while they are fully aware of contraceptives and condoms, they often do not use both. Kids I have spoken to would like to use contraceptives but the nurses in the clinics refuse them the service even though many of them go when they are 15 or 16 years old. The problem these teens face is that the nurses, instead of doing their jobs, are being proxy parents and deciding that if they give a teen contraception it is as good as cheering them on to have sex. A child who has decided to have sex will have sex, no matter the fear-mongering or beatings. And so they go without contraceptives.

As for condoms, the teens, raised in predominantly patriarchal households where their father’s word is law, even if the father is working in the city and is not home, are susceptible to their boyfriends’ will. The mantra of many black men is that a “real man” doesn’t wear a condom. They protest with a litany of excuses, including:
* The condom is too small (a problem that only seem to befall black men, *snort*)
* The condom smells funny,therby making sex nuaseating (as if it wasn't already ;))
* They are allergic to the lubricant
* Only a girl who knows they have AIDS would want to use a condom
* If you love/trust me you won’t use a condom

When the girl feebly raises the issue of pregnancy, he assures her that he will “pull out” in time. She believes him and takes her chance. The ploys used by black men in order to avoid using a condom are the same ploys that adult women fall for, what are the chances that a teen will be able to resist? How come women in their 30s aren’t condemned for unsafe sexual practices? Despite the arguments to the contrary, mature unemployed, unmarried, women also fall pregnant without planning to should be subject to the same scrutiny teens are in terms of whether or not they are opportunistically falling pregnant because they would also like to milk the state coffers dry, much like the leaders who condemn them for it do.

Although state clinics ought to provide the “morning after” pill I have yet to come across one that stocks it. If clinics do stock the pills the nursing staff of Harding and its surrounds has taken it upon itself to not provide them. So much so that teens stopped asking for it.

When a teen seeks to correct her “stupidly falling pregnant” circumstance by requesting a termination of pregnancy from a state hospital as she is legally allowed to the nurses refuse her the service because of their personal beliefs. I know of a child who was closeted in a room by seven nurses, all about the age of her mother and severely berated for even thinking about an abortion. I myself have an experience in which a doctor in a public hospital refused a cousin on mine an abortion merely because she disagreed with the reasons given for wanting one.

So there is a teen in a rural area, stuck with a pregnancy and without an out, why should she not make use of the state provided social grant in order to help raise this child? Sometimes the teen is still a recipient of a social grant herself. I would like to meet a person who has raised a child on R250 a month in this day and age - only that person can convince me gettting its possible to fall pregnant merely to secure R250 for 18 years of a child's life.

Does this research conclude that the teens then use the money for their personal needs, like maybe a sexy top to seduce old men in? Because that is the implication of the allegation that teens are falling pregnant on purpose. Who then provides for this new infant? Certainly not the poor family a rural teen often comes from. The teen’s schooling is interrupted and sometimes she may never go back to school because there is no one to take care of the baby. Is this research suggesting that teens are choosing this path for themselves? Is this research saying that teens would rather earn R250 per child for the rest of their lives? Is that the best that this country has created for children to aspire to?

She Said No; A Rape

Hers is a typical rape story, isn’t amazing that the phrase “typical rape” story exists? A testament of the age we live in; and the abnormalities that have become the norm. Someone she knew, someone she would have allowed inside her house in the dead on night on a stormy night, turned on her. He was deaf to her screams of, NO! NO! NO! He did not care that she begged him to stop. And when it was over, he asked her if she had enjoyed herself; while she struggled to make the world stop, so she get off.

On her Matric Dance night she braved the farewell and after-party without a partner because her boyfriend (someone she had promised herself to) could not make it. It was a day to celebrate the end of her high school career, it was more important she commemorate the journey with friends than it was that she show up with a gorgeous boy on her arm. She intended to have a good time. She was a virgin.

“I was sitting and chatting with a guy friend when the friend who had brought asked us to organise a ride home. She had brought me and my best friend. The guy I was chatting to offered to drop us off. I was flattered that he was even talking to me – he was very good looking and well known in our neighbourhood, was a part time house music DJ and had no shortage of girls. We continued drinking together and I remember I was knocking back red Sambucas at his invitation. When we were ready to go home he asked me to walk to his bakkie with him as it was parked a bit far from the club; claiming he felt tipsy and wanted some fresh air before he got behind the wheel.

By the time we got to the bakkie I was feeling seriously woozy and it was only after we had driven off that I realised we were heading away from the club and not towards it. He told me he just wanted to take a short drive with the window open to sober up.

Looking back now I feel stupid but then I was just a short, fat girl with glasses; I was also wearing a floor length black dress that just about covered me like a sack – the last thing I thought was that someone like him could possibly be thinking of me in any way other than a friend.

He pulled up at a parking spot overlooking the beach and asked me if I wanted to take a walk on the beach. I said no – by this point, I was getting a bit uncomfortable but he assured me he was still trying to sober up and he just wanted to talk. Then he asked me for a kiss – at which I told him that I had a boyfriend.

So he said, “Why did you come with me then? Just give me a kiss and then we can go get your friend and go home.”

So I kissed him, because I thought that would placate him and he would take me home. I wanted to get away from him at this point. When he tried to push my dress up, I started pushing him away and saying “no”.

I can’t remember how many times I said to him, “Please do not do this”. It felt like forever and my throat was sore from shouting the following day – I fought so hard, he tore my stocking; I started trying to open the door to get out and run.

Then he leaned over me his 1.8m frame over my 1.52m (to me he was huge) and my efforts to fight him off were useless; I was like a moth swatting at a bear; he opened the glove compartment to show me a gun; he told me to shut up and stop screaming or he would have to use it.

I was sobbing and just kept saying, NO. NO. NO, thinking he would stop. I asked him to at least use a condom but it was like he had zoned out and he could not or would not hear anything I was saying.

Then he raped me.

After he was done, he asked me if I had enjoyed it and I said no. He seemed surprised, and then continued to try to have a conversation with me like there was nothing wrong. He said it had been great and we should get together again. He could not believe that I was a virgin when he saw the blood streaking down my legs.

I was crying by now and he just kept talking normally so I asked him to please drop me off at the club and I would find my own way home; by the time we got there, it was closed and my friend and her boyfriend were waiting outside. I was hysterical when I jumped out the van, I did not even wait for it to stop moving. My hair was a mess and the blood could be seen all over my legs, my stockings were ripped – I looked like hell.

My friend’s boyfriend was horrified, he wanted to go to the police station immediately but I was in no shape to do that. I was so shocked and hurt and ASHAMED. I just did not want anyone to know.

When my mom opened the door, took one look at me and started shouting and crying that we needed to go to the police station and asking if I had been raped. I was sobbing and hysterical, the last thing I needed was my mom panicking and shouting it out to the world. I ran into my room and into my shower with all my clothes on; I stayed on the shower floor for more than an hour; scrubbing the blood away and trying to clean myself.

I could not clean myself enough – the next day, I kept taking a shower. Oddly, my mom woke up the next day and never asked me about that night again; ever. It was like she decided she did not want to know.

For about a month afterwards, I did not want to brush my hair or get dressed – or make any attempts to look nice. I thought it was my fault for trying to look pretty and maybe if I made myself as unattractive as possible, it would never happen again.

I also fell pregnant. The man who raped me called me a few times, adding to my trauma. When I saw him with his friends they would stare at me. It felt like no matter where I went, if I turned around he would be standing there; watching me.

I could not stand the thought of a baby, I would have hated it, and so I had an abortion. I never told anyone. I thought I would tell my family once I had got over the shock, once I had dealt with the rape and the fact that I knowingly aborted a baby.

I did not want to lay any charges because I was convinced no one would believe me. I could scarcely believe it myself, it made no sense. Why would a good looking well educated boy from a good home do something so violent – and a boy who had girls throwing themselves at him?

Then a few months later, my mom, brother and I came home to find that my father had committed suicide – he had shot himself. There was no note. For a long time, I felt very guilty because a part of me thought he had somehow found out about the rape and was so ashamed of me that he killed himself. I later discovered he had financial difficulties.

However, there was no way that I was going to add to my family’s trauma after that. We were so ravaged and torn apart by my father’s suicide, it was a total shock to my family. I also broke up with my boyfriend because he wanted to get engaged and I did not know how to tell him I had been raped. I did not want to see any looks of revulsion or pity on that face I loved so much.

I think of that year as the worst year of my life and I know I made it through that year somehow – so I can handle anything that comes my way now.

It was a long time before she was able to date, to be intimate with men and to be happy. But she did it, drawing strength from a will to live, to triumph, and to never be the victim again. She still believes aborting the baby was the right decision. She is now a successful married and mother to a beautiful son.


Near that stretch of sandy beach, her innocence being ripped from her, she became his victim. To see her today and know what she has been through is testament of her power. Where some would break, she is a woman who has lived beyond her fear. I salute her.

The Miracle we Almost Missed

Like the putrid smell from a stagnant bog; a blackened piece of meat being feasted upon by maggots in a darkened corner. Like the discovery of a colony of cockroaches feeding on the dead of their own, or seeing the remains of a dog that was halved by a careless wheel; seeing her pregnant turned my stomach.

Jumping into my mind with so much noise I was afraid it was tattooed in my eyes, the first thought was how the hell were we going to rid of it? The thoughts that followed would, months later, serve to make me question my character. Like a neat line, as if at the back of my mind they had been squatting, waiting their turn the thoughts marched through my mind;

·         Was it too later for an abortion?

·         Who would raise the child? Surely not me!

·         What would people THINK?

·         How could we have been so stupid?

·         Was it too late for an abortion?

Crowding my mind; clouding my judgment and rendering me irrational and dangerous I began my inquisition. How could she, someone with near-acute Down’s syndrome, have got pregnant? With already a predilection for lying, I knew I would never find out the truth. Uppermost in my mind was getting a termination of pregnancy; I was ready to even go to the courts to declare her unfit to parent. It was enough that she was a dependent, she would not subject us to taking care of a child whose chances of having Down’s syndrome were high that a whore on crack. I set about with my plans, regardless of the fact that years earlier I had found a letter, scrawled in her childish writing, she had written to a man, asking him for a baby. What she wanted was immaterial to me.

Until her protector and guardian stopped me in my murderous tracks.

Whatever shame the family would face, the protector said, she would bear the brunt of it. It had been her who had been taking care of my Down’s Syndrome-afflicted cousin. It had been her who had let slide the stringent contraceptive regime I had had my cousin on. She would shoulder the responsibility of the humiliation and take care of the coming baby, “mongoloid” or not. I stayed angry until my cousin gave birth to her baby daughter, convinced she would present us all with a child so deformed we would have to make some hard decisions.

Today she toddles like any perfect angel; a childrso beautiful I suspect God was taking the piss at me. She gurgles, she laughs and she is a joy to everyone in the family. I was the first to take photos of her, when she was only a few hours old. I fell in love with that little angel moments after meeting her. I was wrong, and I have never been so glad to be.

Women choose abortions for flimsier reasons than what I believed. I was afraid that a woman who cannot take care of herself (at 34) would be a danger to a child, I was afraid that I would have to step up to the plate and I knew I didn’t want to. The universe further slapped me in the face when my cousin turned out to be the best mother I have ever seen. Her daughter loves her mother so much, it is amazing to watch.

I am not anti-abortion, I am completely pro-choice. But as I watch women who are my friends continue to choose to terminate pregnancies, I am reminded of my little second-cousin, (so perfect it was like she had a point to prove), I wonder, how many world changers were consigned to the abortionists bin?