Being a Teen Parent is Like Being A Criminal!


“Will the defendant please rise? You are hereby sentenced to life in prison for the crime of premarital sex.” Those were the words Dee heard the ultrasound technician say instead of, congratulations you’re pregnant.”  Then and there She felt like a prisoner on death row. Her life flashed before her eyes and the doors of opportunity slammed shut before her. Bound by deceit and shackled by shame, she was escorted to a cell full of stereotypes and statistics. Instead of bread and water, She was force-fed disappointment and failure.

Nervous and uneasy She was up for parole.  Wearing a shirt of iniquity and pants of despair, She found herself walking past a panel of people that stared at her with dismay and ridicule. She was denied parole. I didn’t meet society’s approval and could not be validated. My merit was irrelevant and time served was ineligible.

The warden comes in to torture me. He’s disguised as a teacher, relative, or even a friend. “Teen Parent” he yells, as he beats down my pride and self-esteem. “Why can’t I just be a parent? I am just like that robin that takes care of her young. Motherhood should be based on love and nurturing, not by months and years,” I mutter.  The next lash consists of silent attitudes and snickers.

The prisoners of envy, prejudice, and hatred put me down by saying. “that’s why you have a kid.” I sit alone in my cell realizing my debt to society will never be paid in full. I was determined to be free. Equipped with the knowledge to quench my thirst, ambition as my guide, and truth for support, I decided to escape. For what seemed like an eternity of struggles, a mountain of proof, and a glimmer of hope, I finally dug my way to freedom. Accomplishment dripped from my face as confidence glared in my eyes, I was ready to face the world as a person acquitted of all charges. My only possessions being a spoon of education, a pen of remorseful ink, and a bag of self-worth, I was ready for the challenge of being a model citizen.

Pride hid my face and independence shielded my body, even then some recognized the scent of a felon on me. I was marked as an outcast and set aside as a failure. I found myself excluded and degraded. Preconceptions and inadequacies accompanied me. I often sat wondering was my crime such an unspeakable act? Everything I deemed as triumphant was dissected and challenged. 

My son knew not of my crime and loved me just the same. Will I have to spend the rest of my life with my decisions on trial and anticipating failure? Being a teen parent is like being a criminal, because the decision I made yesterday affects everything I do and who I AM today.  

Although I moved from Teen Mother to Entrepreneur, these words still ring true today! 

Excert from

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