To Whom It May Concern:

My stories, my thoughts my feelings, My purpose to love, and share what I’ve learned. My perspectives, my opinions, my vibes, And some things I know to be true. I hope you appreciate and relate To the very essence of me that I’m going to share with you.

[kingbr-i-blog]

Confessions of a Young Baby Mama

Confessions of a young baby mama

To whom it may concern:

Motherhood, one of the absolute, most beautiful concepts of life, is constantly looked at as a curse, a job, a burden, a loss. The very process that created all human life has the most negative connotations surrounding it. People assume young mothers are dumb, unmarried mothers are wrong, mothers with multiples are desperate, dumb and wrong. If you got a negative idea when you read the title of this post, you are exactly who I’m referring to.

People without children, do you see young mothers and think, “I feel bad for her, she has to make sacrifices for her kids” or even “It’s going to be hard for her to be successful without her [child’s father] in the picture”? Lol at you. Some of the most hardworking, paid women I know are young mothers; from my family members to people I met in school, to myself. People without children, stop congratulating yourselves for not having kids. Not only is it weird but really think about it. What makes you ‘better’ than a young mother? That young mother created a person that loves her unconditionally no matter what she does and will love her till she dies. What do you have? A little extra money in your pocket? But being completely honest, that young mother you’re judging probably makes more than you, and considering the fact that children don’t cost that much, you probably lost there too. 

I’m not here to call anyone out, believe me, I couldn’t care any less about people’s personal opinions about young mothers. But I do think people should figure out why they value NOT being a parent so much. Being a mother is the meaning of life, to me. It is literally the one reason why we live, to procreate and reproduce. Please don’t take this literally, I am not telling you that you don’t have a reason for living if you’re not going to have children. That’s above my pay grade. I’m challenging you to think about your constant judgements against young mothers. Ask yourself “Why am I such a hater?” 

Love, King Bri

[kingbr-i-blog]

New Year, New Me

To whom it may concern:

It’s January! Time for all the “NEW YEAR, NEW ME” captions. Who are you? Who were you last year? I think a lot of people wouldn’t really know how to answer that question. It can be for 1 of 2 reasons:

1. They’re not proud of the real answer. A lot of people are afraid to say things like “I’m a teen mom”, or “I’m a drug addict”. Social media will show you, people are afraid of not being perfect. Well guess what? I am a college drop out. I don’t care if you judge me. I’m actually proud of it. It’s one the best decisions I’ve ever made.

2. They don’t know. A lot of people do not know who they are, as silly as that sounds. Society (I hate to be that person) has people thinking that they have to have a certain net worth or merit status to “be” somebody. So if you ask a father of 2 with no job or education who he his, he might only give you his name, because he doesn’t know. Or he may even believe that he is no one, when he’s a leader, a teacher, a creator.

I think it’s important that people learn to look beyond the physical when trying to identify themselves. Who you were last year isn’t based on how much money you made, or how many people you think you “shitted” on. It wasn’t based on how many clients you had or how many followers you gained. Who you are is your purpose. How much of that money you made did you put aside for the future generations of your family? How many of those people you “shitted” on did you inspire? How many of your clients did you make feel better about themselves than before they had seen you? How many of your followers are you really leading? Try to be more than what you were last year, if you are hollering “NEW YEAR NEW ME”.

Love, King Bri