My sister sent me new pics of her first grandbaby. I was so excited I flipped through the pics and got me see my nephew with his newborn son. As I flipped through the pics of Jayden’s mother in labor and various stages of giving birth I realized their was a little person standing by her bed side. I was intrigued to say the least.
I rang my big sis to see who the little person was, of course my timing was horrible as she was at the mother’s house visiting the new little one. Did I mention I am loud as hell when I talk to my family on the phone? It was in those awkward moment I realized I am a grade A asshole.
My sister had never mentioned a little person in her stories of the the new mother’s family, and as I thought about it more I realized she shouldn’t have to. It’s not what’s hot in the streets so there was no reason to describe this person in that manner. The little person didn’t need a little person qualifier. I feel like a real jackass.
I like to think of myself as so opened minded and above the fray, but when it comes right down to it I’m as curious and lookey lou as every other person on the planet.
As a black woman I am not wild about black being the first thing used to describe me. Although it’s probably the easiest way it’s not creative or the first thing I think of when I think of ways to describe me.
Why do I feel I needed to know more about this little person? She is not my business, nor was she put on this planet for my gawking or entertainment. Why couldn’t I just leave it alone? Why do I feel my sister should have “warned” me? What the fuck is that about, why am I such an asshole?
She’s a person who doesn’t need to explain her existence to me or anyone else.
Hello my name is asshole, and I’m a real life jerk!