Certifiable

I was watching “For the Love of Ray J” and a former contestant returned to the show pregnant.  Her name was “Danger.”  Being on the show unearthed Danger’s tragic story.  She was an admitted former prostitute, victim of abuse, groupie, and overall attention whore.  Her craziness was well-documented throughout the season.  And now, here she was, back on the show, and about 8 months pregnant.  The first thing I said when I saw her big belly was, “It doesn’t seem fair that she gets to have a baby, when there are so many potentially great mothers, who can’t.”  And my friend replied, with a shrug, ”Life’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair” is an aphorism that I think all of us have heard.  It is usually said in response to someone bemoaning a decision, conclusion or event that he/she believes is unjust.  And it generally means that you need to get over it, because there will always be times that things do not go the way you planned, or believed they should.

You don’t get the promotion you think you deserved? Life’s not fair.  Your boss asks YOU to train the person they gave the promtion? Life’s not fair.  Your car breaks down one hour after the warranty expires? Life’s not fair.  And it’s the engine AND the transmission?  Life’s not fair.

But after seeing Danger on “For the Love of Ray J”, I realized that  there are times when it can have another meaning. 

To be a driver, one takes a driver test.  You drive forward, in reverse, you parallel park, you make left and right turns and you switch lanes, and you merge into traffic.  The examiner assesses your capabilities and either passes you and grants you a license to drive, or fails you and tells you’re not ready - you need to put in more work. 

To be a teacher you have to be certified.  You get training in education, and take an exam that shows off your proficiency to the state.  They too assess your capabilities, and either pass you and award you a license to teach, or they fail you and tell you that you’re not ready – you need more training. 

To be an attorney one must obtain a “certificate of fitness” either before, or after taking the bar exam.  The application consists of approximately one million personal questions and extensive documentation is required to support the applicant’s answers.  Exhaustive background checks are run, credit reports are pulled, tax returns are reviewed.  And when it is over, the state either certifies you to take/join the bar, or denies you and tells you you’re not ready – you need to straighten out some things in your life. 

It is much the same process for doctors, nurses,  and even public accountants.   

But to be a mother, there is no license.  There is no certification of fitness.  There are no state-mandated exams.  There is no analysis of skill, or knowledge.  Tax returns aren’t reviewed.  Credit reports are not pulled.  Neither moral, nor fiscal responsibility is established.  A birth certificate is  simply a record of one being born, not a declaration of eligibility for childbearing.  No one checks to see if you are ready, or if you need to put in more work, get more training or straighten out some things in your life.

I’ve seen a woman withhold juice from her thirsty baby, until he gave her a kiss.  I’ve seen a mother walk ahead of her toddler, with him scurrying to keep up, during rush hour in a jam-packed Manhattan train station.  I’ve seen a mother walking with several children, with dirty faces, all in too small clothes and too big shoes – with another one on the way.  I’ve seen a mother driving Britney-style, with one baby on her lap and another in the backseat with the seatbelt guillotine-ing him across the face and neck. 

I’ve heard about mothers who leave their toddlers with boyfriends they met two days ago on Pick-a-felon.com.  I’ve heard about mothers who move their new boyfriends in to live with them and their pubescent daughters.  I’ve heard about mothers who say they would rather their child have s.ex and/or do drugs and drink in the home than outside on the street.

And it is these instances where ”life” – as in the gift that is bestowed upon a woman when she becomes a mother, is what’s not fair.  And that’s a different meaning entirely.