By
Stanley Collymore
My beloved mum, bless
her, confidently and candidly outlined to me shortly after I’d initially become
a teenager and, as such, it was reasonably assumed by her that I would be more
capable of fathoming out as well as being better able to understand and accept
the very serious ramifications of what had unfortunately happened to her, and in the
process of these occurring had resulted in her inadvertently becoming pregnant
with me, her daughter, when she was just a teenager herself, in what was for
her a life changing situation as great in its structure as any such state of
affairs for a young, unmarried, distinctly sheltered and a white, upper Middle
Class girl could possibly be!
Namely that the clearly
unpropitious origins of my life were matters which mum obviously hadn’t
planned for and, furthermore, that the man whom she was involved with came from her own social
circle of friends and who is, of course, my biological father did not, it
abruptly turned out shortly after their rather fleeting romantic and essentially
on mum’s part a one-sided relationship, regard mum in the least as someone who
was special to him, or that he even casually wanted around long-term in his
private life.
So most brutally confronted
with the stark reality of what she ruefully deeply regretted doing but had
rather unwisely and unwittingly allowed to happen to her, mum simply and quite
pragmatically put her personal ordeal behind her and shrewdly attributed it to
experience coupled with the harsh fact that this arrogant man to whom she’d
affably and consensually relinquished her prized virginity had effectively upon
her doing so secretly considered her as nothing more useful to him than being a
short-lived series of one-night stands.
Ordered by her parents in
conjunction with the full support of her older siblings to have an abortion or
failing that put me, her baby, up for immediate adoption the moment I was born,
mum adamantly and disdainfully rebuffed both these coercive ultimatums; but as
a consequence of her courageous action and open defiance of her parents was summarily
and spitefully thrown out of the family home.
A single parent with no
practicable resources of her own or any viable means of readily attaining any,
mum with me in tow was very much on her own, but undaunted she never gave up
and against all the odds landed a job and a flat of her own. And despite things
being incredibly hard at times she was never remiss at doing her very best for
me, and when as often happened sacrifices had to be made, it was mum who
stoically insured that it was always her and never me who shouldered that
burden.
Then when I was seven and
with mum doing her customary school run something incredibly happened. Mum
accidentally met and progressively thereafter formed a meaningful relationship with
a Blackman, a surgeon, who privately was a divorcee and himself a single parent
with a mixed race son two years my senior. His dad’s divorced situation having
come about when his cheating, white wife on being found out, rather than
honourably face the adverse consequences of her adulterous actions, chose
instead to run off with her lover.
Interestingly,
informatively and gratefully from my perspective mum kept me fully informed
about the status as well as the progress of her new romance: the first in years
since she became pregnant with me. A highly commendable action on her part and
very appreciative on mine as she always ensured during this time that I didn’t
feel left out or in the slightest side-lined by what she and her new partner
were doing, or the direction in which their relationship was heading. Then
unsurprisingly the inevitable, I suppose, and also what I’d been secretly
hoping for occurred – mum and her partner, whom I’d voluntarily grown to love,
admire and think the world of, decided to, and gleefully informed me that they
were getting married. And, equally importantly, with my assent of course, my
prospective stepdad wanted to adopt me.
I was exultantly over the
moon on receipt of this knowledge, and with the son of mum’s partner already
very encouragingly by me and quite delightfully as well successfully playing
the role of big brother to me, my unqualified permission as regards my being
adopted by this truly remarkable man who was perceptibly deeply in love with my
mum as she reciprocally was with him was instantaneously given, in certain
recognition that mum would similarly be adopting my new stepbrother too.
However, unforeseen
circumstances temporarily put our joint celebrations on hold. Crawling out of
the woodwork they’d ensconced themselves in and for the first time since
kicking her out of their home my mum’s parents malevolently embarked on a cruel
and negative recourse to yet again destroy her life, her future and her
happiness by petitioning the British family court not to give its consent to what
my mum’s parents most arrogantly and disingenuously claimed was a grievous
insult to both them and their “white granddaughter” being adopted by a
culturally inappropriate and highly unsuitable Blackman.
This notwithstanding that
they’d not had any contact whatsoever with mum after they’d unpleasantly ejected
her from their home, had never met me or even enquired about my welfare at any
time during mum’s pregnancy or in the aftermath of my birth. And as for my
prospective stepdad who earnestly wished to become my father they knew absolutely
nothing of and cared even less about. So theirs was a petition based solely on mendacious
stereotypes and outright racism in the steadfast hope that given the climate of
discrimination prevalent in Britain their unjustified intervention would be
accorded to them a favourable conclusion. And it did! With the court ruling
that my adoption wasn’t only completely unnecessary but also in the given circumstances
entirely unsuitable as well. However if my mum still wished to adopt my
mixed-race stepbrother, the court would look favourably on the matter and the merits of her
application.
Of Barbadian ancestry,
although born and raised in Britain, my mum’s partner immediately contacted the
appropriate authorities in his ancestral homeland and outlined his position. As
expected their response was completely different. So taking a purposeful flight
from Gatwick Airport, the four of us: my stepdad, stepbrother, mum and me,
headed off to Barbados where in the presence of supportive relatives and
friends there, and in quite a lavish wedding, mum and her partner were ecstatically
married. And at that said ceremony with a Barbadian High Court judge in attendance for
the occasion my new brother and me were mutually, delightedly and legally adopted
by the two persons we could now proudly and openly call mum and dad.
Fast forward to the
present and with both my brother and me in our twenties, I’m a qualified medical
doctor just like my dad, and earnestly intend one day to similarly like him become
a surgeon. My brother, for his part, having successfully graduated with excellent
law degrees at university has meanwhile been called to the bar and is now
studying to be a barrister. And as for my mum, who has always wanted to be a
teacher and lecturer, having acquired a PhD in English, a degree that she
initially started with the Open University, is now in the final stage of
completing her PGCE (Postgraduate Certificate in Education). To which I can with
pride and quite unapologetically assert: “What an exceptional family!”
©
Stanley V. Collymore
30
November 2019.
Author’s
Remarks:
There’s an old and
established Barbadian saying that if you don’t have faith and confidence in
yourself and what you can realistically achieve in life, never mind the
naysayers or their jaundiced views about you, why should anyone else bother
about you?
And on this the 30th
November 2019 and the 53rd Anniversary of Barbados’ Independence I
sincerely wish all my fellow Bajans at home and across our global Diaspora a
very Happy and Festive Independence Day.
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