I’m a son. Which means I’m a male born of a woman who was inseminated by a man. Pretty straightforward, right? Wrong! The biological process is simple enough, but the post-natal journey can be rather complex.
Depending on the society and family into which you make your entry, not to mention the circumstances of your birth (for example, being the firstborn or the only child), the course of your life can be a rather complicated charter.
In my own case, I’m part of a “blended” family where my father was first married and had a daughter and son prior to his union with my mother which produced my older sister, me and my younger sister. I’m my mother’s only son but not his (at this point, I should mention that he later had two more sons out of wedlock through an affair with my mother’s maid, unbeknownst to the rest of us until much further down the line before his demise).
Growing up was very nice for me. In my culture, boys were still disproportionately prized generally, but thankfully not in my own clan where the matriarchs were many and women were equally valued. I was always a bit “different” because academic pursuits bored me even though I loved collecting data. This trait may have sown some disfavor in an environment where formal education was a real staple. Nevertheless, I felt truly loved and was properly nurtured by a huge extended family consisting mostly of women.
As I got older and my teenage identity issues reared their unattractive head(s), the ensuing clashes with my ordinarily remote father were more fun for me than they should have been. I loathed being in the classroom and spent as much time away from school as I could, which eventually led to my expulsion. I didn’t participate in the exams that would make me qualify for tertiary education, but instead wandered aimlessly until my best friend and I decided to explore our musical talents and became producers.
The parental relationship
My relationship with my father never quite was, and he passed on a few years ago. The one with my mother is interesting. We’re not really close and have never been, yet it feels good and is devoid of any tension. The umbilical connection is definitely intact. Mine is a somewhat unconventional existence and at 41, I’d like to believe her hopes and fears for me have by now been regulated by my continuing survival in spite of not having a conventionally stable life.
All-in-all, I feel extremely blessed to have been birthed into my particular family. Everyone is an interestingly unique character, and I deeply enjoy the intellectual stimulation they each provide. Pondering whether or not there is anything about any of it I would change, I can honestly say that there is not even one aspect begging alteration.