I’m just a teenager. I don’t have kids, I’ve never been to prison, I’m not on Instagram pretending I own a G-Wagon I saw parked outside the mall. I’m just a normal girl with eyes—and those eyes have been seeing some things.
Let’s talk. Why is it that whenever the topic of single parenthood comes up, everyone turns their heads like, “Here we go again,” and then BOOM—it’s always black single mothers at the center of the conversation? And don’t get me wrong, there are single moms in every race. But the numbers? The patterns? The stereotypes? It’s always black this, black that.
You ever notice the pattern?
Single moms? Black.
Prison population? Black.
Poverty rates? Black.
People who queue for the latest Gucci belt but sleep on a mattress on the floor? Black.
Blaming everyone else for our problems instead of fixing our own habits? Sadly, sometimes, also black.
Now before anyone comes for me, I’m not saying we’re all a mess. I’m saying we need to talk about the mess, because it’s spilling into our futures—and I want mine clean, please and thank you.
In Business Studies (shoutout to the subject that actually makes sense sometimes), we learned about levels of control:
Full control: You can make a choice and live by it.
Limited control: You can influence it but not completely stop it.
No control: Life just throws lemons, and you weren’t even trying to make lemonade.
And you know what? Most of us have full control. But instead of using it wisely, some of us throw it away for likes, validation, or vibes. Then when life hits, we say, “The system did this,” or “It’s because of colonialism,” or “It’s the man’s fault,” or “It’s the woman’s fault.”
Nah. Sometimes, it’s just us being reckless with what we could control.
Yes, the world is unfair. Yes, history has done a number on black people. But what about now? When you know better, shouldn't you do better?
I'm scared, to be honest. Scared I might one day become what I never wanted to be. But I pray I don’t. I plan. I think ahead. I want love, not drama. Stability, not struggle. Real joy, not filters and fake flexes.
So I’m not judging. I’m reflecting. Loudly. As a teenager who sees this cycle and says: “Can we not?”
That’s all for now.
Signed,
Lili Phedra
