One single black mother's story of raising a half-Japanese child against all odds Feb. His father, who is Japanese, was never in the picture. He would abandon us for days, sometimes weeks, without money for food or baby supplies. On the rare occasion he was actually around and I mentioned finding work for myself, he would shame and isolate me.
clivetern.com: Mom's Taxi License Plate: Home & Kitchen
For I am sure that even for this meager deed of fatherhood I am performing, I deserve a lot more than credit. My mission sounds simple enough: carting my young son through West Manhattan to visit another friend, working in Chelsea. But our trek into the city elicits terror because of three converging factors: 1. My son is 7 months old—something always happens. To take the mystery out of the island on this visit to New York, I have recruited two friends. It helps that they are native New Yorkers and know the geography. Pushing the stroller, I remember the last time I was in New York with two other black male writers.