Showing posts with label Cosby Show. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cosby Show. Show all posts

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Black History MOTHERS!

This BHM just keeps getting better and better, guys. Tonight after work I’m heading uptown to an awards ceremony. The recipient – MY MOTHER!!

Holla at madukes making it happen!

As you all know, I still live with madukes and her latin lover (ok, they’ve been married for 4 years, so I guess I should stop describing him as though he’s some scantily clad pool boy, but I can’t help myself).

I’m sure many of my blog posts have touched on the topic of Black mama drama in all its ferocity. You see, my mother’s a lawyer:

Yes, like Claire Huxtable.

She argues for a living -- so, growing up, you know a young Sojo could never be right! Madukes could catch me in a lie before I even knew I was telling it.

Mom: “Sojo, did you finish your homework?”
Young Sojo: “Yes, ma.”
[She looks at me square in the eye as I speak.]
Mom: “Go back up to your room.”
Me: “What?! Why?!”
Mom: “You didn’t finish your homework, your eyes shifted to the left, you’re lying.”

As I stomped upstairs, wondering how on earth she knew I’d already decided mathematics wasn’t worth my time, I vowed never to be caught in a lie again.

This, of course, wasn’t so hard seeing as I was the most boring teen ever. When you’re a chubby little brown child at a high school that’s fresh out of an episode of Gossip Girl, you’re not popular enough to get into any actual trouble. As I got older, I combated her ability to see through me by omitting information altogether—I can’t get caught in a lie if I’m not actually telling one, see?

To really make childhood matters worse, my mother is a lawyer for abused and neglected children. She deals with foster homes, custody battles, and has tales that are straight up out of an episode of “Law and Order: SVU.” (Seriously, I’ve got some spec scripts in the works.) This means that growing up, none of that only-child bratty whining was gonna fly. When mom turned off the TV and said it was time for bed, there was no fucking around. If we had to leave the birthday party, a standard, “Ma, you’re so mean, this is not fair,” was usually met with: “I’m so mean?! Mean?! At least I didn’t trade you for 50 grams of crack like my client last month! You just be glad you’re enrolled in school and can expect three meals a day!”

Srsly, madukes helped a young blacktress keep it in perspective.

This is to be expected from a woman who, after giving birth to a child mere months before the end of law school, sent said child (me) to Africa to live with my grandmother. Mom ain't letting a baby stop her from living her dreams (take note, all you 16-and-pregnant chicks)!


Ever since I’ve been gainfully employed and her New Jersey house is finally at the end of renovations, mama bear and I have been getting along smashingly—I even got her to watch Drag Race! I can’t tell you how much it warmed my heart to wake up Sunday morning and see her watching a rerun while tucked in bed…under an electric blanket!!!

Tonight’s award is from the office of the borough president for her work on a child abuse/neglect case. I’m smartly dressed, cause you know I can’t rock up looking casual on madukes’ big night. I’m definitely more of a Denise, but tonight I’ll be embodying put-together Vanessa Huxtable.

Remember the look? I would have compared myself to Sondra, with her put-together looks and secretly-gay husband, but she never got enough screen time.