I am not an Accident or a Bastard

Outgrowing childhood labels and coming into my own whole person!

Growing up in my small hometown of Screven, Georgia, I was often called names and labeled—an accident, a bastard, a mistake, mouthy, and so many more labels that I still carry with me to this day. These labels and names were not thrown at me by strangers but by family and friends, those who should have known better and should have protected me.

Unlike today, when abortions and other forms of hiding or getting rid of "the mistake or unwanted pregnancy," such remedies did not readily exist, and my mother chose to have me. She also explained to me many of the labels I was given, and although it did not make sense, I understood vividly what she was trying to tell me.

It did not make sense to me because I was not the only child in the family born out of wedlock. In fact, there were quite a few, but they did not get the same treatment or the Blount of their hatred, bad taste, or choice of labels. In fact, they were treated just the opposite, and at least one was nicknamed and even called Sweetheart.

Why was I not a sweetheart? I was smarter. I worked harder. My mother kept me around and taught me all kinds of skills. I cooked, sewed, cleaned, and cared for the house and some of their children. But like Cinderella, I was never good enough. I was always the butt of the joke, the one that was not included, and definitely the one that got the most brutal punishment.

Discipline was the golden rule, including brutal beating with a whip, something called the ten-pan-alley, switches (sometimes with the thorns still on them), and whatever else came in handy at the time. The saying before most beatings was, "I don't beat clothes." That meant you had to strip, and the beating was administered directly on your skin. Then, after such a beating, salve and other remedies were rubbed onto your skin to reduce the swelling and scarring. It worked because my back does not show the scars from those beatings.

Even to this day, some of those who witnessed the beatings remark on how many I received compared to everyone else. I have even been told that I deserved them. Others also got a few beatings, but their actions had to be extremely grievous for that to happen. I guess those beatings and God's purpose must have come together because I am strong looking back then and now. I can stand tall. I do not crumble in front of adversity and know who I am and what I am.

Over the years, I have learned that everyone walking this earth is a masterpiece of divine intention and purpose. Just being here is proof that God chose to give life, purpose, and direction to you, the person. I believe the problem is that often, we think that we have the absolute last word on giving birth to children. We don't. Yes, many of them are aborted, brought here, and poorly treated, and are unwanted, but each one of them serves the purpose for which they were created. I don't know God's purpose for others, but I am certain that my purpose is, has been, and will continue to be one that God chose for me. I am one of a kind!

I genuinely believe that no one is here by accident and that no life is without meaning. I have come to embrace this truth and acknowledge the profound beauty of being purposefully created just by the life God has allowed me to live, from the Cotton fields of Georgia to becoming the mayor of my little City. No, the journey was not easy. It was not fair and certainly was not the route I would have taken, left to my own understanding and desires.

To say, "I am not an accident," affirms my deeper truth: I am part of a greater picture that God himself put into place and defined my role in it. My life matters. I am part of a greater narrative woven intricately into the fabric of existence. It is an acknowledgment that I am not the product of randomness or inappropriate sex but instead the deliberate work of my Creator, who allowed my existence with purpose and foresight. I am wonderfully and purposefully made, and I exist because I serve a purpose.

To say out loud and in my mind that "I am not a bastard" speaks to my need to reject the names and labels that I had ingrained in my head about who I am and what I am worth. It also speaks to the fact that as a child, I could not defend myself or even speak up for myself and who I believed I was! In those days, children were to be seen and not heard. To say out loud that I am not a bastard gives me back the power over my life, who I am, what I have become, and a desire to be my best in all areas of my life. I needed to reject labels that demeaned or attempted to define me or the circumstances of my birth.

My worth is not dictated by others, social constructs, or societal perceptions but by the undeniable fact that I was created with purpose and love. I am valuable; my existence is a testament to divine grace and mercy.
I know that I am purposefully made, and saying it aloud reminds me that every detail of my being—the nuances of my personality, the talents I possess, even the challenges I have faced, currently face, and will face in the future—has been crafted with one intent—the making of me! I am a unique expression of life, endowed with qualities that equip me for my journey through this life. I have a purpose.

Discovering my purpose is probably one of the most incredible adventures of my life. It is an unfolding that reveals itself to me over time, with courage and through my faith.

Finally, "I know that I am God's creation!" To be created by God is to be connected to the infinite, to be rooted in a love so vast and profound that it transcends understanding. Being God's creation assures me that I am loved and cherished. It gives me hope, courage, and the will to be and do my best.

I embrace my truths. I forgive those who wrongfully treated me, discouraged me, or failed to recognize my right to exist, be loved, and be cherished. It is my hope that they, too, will one day reach this deeper and more profound understanding of themselves and their purpose here on this earth.

Heaven is unknown, but what we live and do today on this earth is important to ourselves and to those with whom we come into contact, whether on purpose, through blood relations, or as total strangers. Let's live and let live. We all matter.