Her Wife And Kids

sixty three

| Robyn Rihanna Fenty |

| Setting: Bridgetown Barbados |

"Do I have to wear this dress? It makes me feel uncomfortable mom" I squirm. Standing in the blazing hot son of Bimshire.

It's not even sunday, no one in their right mind would go to church on both saturday and sunday.

"In the car Fenty, we don't have all day" My mother speaks. She has this soft yet stern and demanding hitch to her voice that makes my jaw clench.

I knew if I object I'd be done for. No more tv for a month, no playing outside and absolutely no music.

"Good girl, now act like a lady and wipe that tear off your face. I'll be damned if someone came up to me and I had to explain to them how my ungrateful daughter is upset about wearing a dress I worked days upon days to purchase"

With a low huff I wipe my tears and keep my eyes fixed on the road. If there's anything my mom hates it's an attitude.

In all sincerity I'm complexed with what's bothering me most, is it really the dress?

Or is it my mother's hushed motive?

The only reason she takes me to church is because she believe you can just pray the gay away. She doesn't admit it, but I'm not stupid.

Why am I going to church max the amount of times Rajad and Rorrey go?

At church people stare and whisper. It's just like school all over again, except here people at least pretend to be kind.

I'd like to believe it's all out of their good hearts but really think about it...

"Oh I just looove your dress sister" This woman who I've never seen before says as she takes a seat right next to me.

"It's my first time here" She then turns to my mother who simply stares at her showing little to no overt interest in the conversation.

My mother is a complicated woman. She lacks diplomacy and acceptance when it comes to me, she's cold in her words and sometimes actions but she'd put a nigga in their place if they ever spoke ill of her daughter.

Coltish in her mien the woman speaks again. "Well...the name's Kathy" She pulls out a hand.

Not once averting her glare off Kathy my mother accquiesces in the handshake. "Monica" She says holding off a smile. "And this is my daughter Rihanna"

I simply nod before facing forward towards the stage.

As more and more people rush through the church doors I feel my body tense.

Usually there's not much people as there would be sunday but it doesn't take away from the fact that I feel judged by everyone around me.

The attendance was nearly half the town which isn't all too surprising. Barbados is a pretty small island. No matter where you go surely people will know you and your whole life story.

After a few minutes of waiting and having everyone settle down the congregation takes stage.

We're all assembled into a choir singing songs of the lord. Though I'm not as religious as my mother would want me, I'm still moved by the vocals of everyone around.

The opening hymns shortly came to an end soon as the pastor took lead. Singing the last of chorus, his voice was deep and emotional causing a couple sniffs here and there, the audience clapped with great enthusiasm.

With sermon time approaching the pastor had us take a seat as he construct a prayer before going on to vent about the issues in today's society.

Like any other day he speaks on the sinful act of cross-dressing, listening to rap music, kids disrespecting their parents, not acknowleding the Lord and my favorite. Homosexual behavior.