Like father like son, like mother like daughter and oh not forgetting the other popular one the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But who really can say that this child is a chip off the old block and what would they have seen to be able to confidently say that to a child who many a times one has no idea how they were socialized into this tough and judgemental world.
A world which is so color conscious and seems to have a clear idea of the difference between black and white but then what happens to all the shades which lie between grey and the unknown. Or is it because of society’s blue print and expectations that now children have to live their lives according to or based on the lives of their parents.
Growing up I have always been that other child everyone else notices because of being outspoken and that carefree attitude. Now being a pastor’s child has clearly had its toll on me as with my type of personality so many people have felt they have the visa,passport and license to be the judges and commentators of how I row through the Life tide.
I have always asked questions that no one apparently could answer or the ones who could will give me an answer that was far from convincing. What really is the difference between the preachers daughter and the daughter of any couple in the congregation or worse still a couple on the streets. After all we are both daughters ain’t we.
My mother and father have raised me the way they thought best but someone then thinks that I as the daughter is not doing enough but then again I ask should you blame the parents or it is the choice of the child to actually put what he or she has been socialized to into practice.
On a beautiful sunny day in the streets of Bulawayo I bumped into an elder from church wearing ripped jeans and the shock on her face even shocked me myself. I was walking with a friend and she pulled me to the side without even saying hie. She called my jeans ”literally torn” and said that it wasn’t graceful for the preachers daughter to rock the streets wearing such.
I quickly corrected her and told her if she was to walk into a clothing boutique the pair of jeans I was wearing would be under the ripped jeans section. She went on to tell me how as a preachers daughter I contribute to other people not coming to church or some church members backsliding.
But then at the end of the day what has what I wear got to do with everyone else. So at the end of the day the preachers daughter then has to wear what the society and church seems decent,the preachers daughter then has to talk and walk the way society and the church perceives right.
After all I have my own life to live outside the church setting. Gossip about me and siblings travels way faster than lightning. Any other girl can be seen with a guy but for the preacher’s daughter even if its a friendly conversation it is taboo. So if i have adjudicators already scoring my life’s wrongs and rights then how about they dictate how I live it.
People are out there judging the preacher’s daughter based on what her Dad and Mom are saying on the pulpit but her life is off the pulpit. But no one even cares about all that an angel is all they want to see but excuse me and well sorry for the disappointment but I am no angel I am but human and so is your daughter or sister or friend.
When i do wrong if you care, talk to me and help me be a better person that is if you care because if you do then you would not go around talking about me.
I am unapologetic about my opinionated persona nor my carefree attitude. No apologies for everything YOU THINK I do wrong. Not sorry for being who I am especially my passion for dance and singing. My dreadlocks which are my crown are my trademark and they are here to stay. If you associate them with something else that is just you.
So stop with the stereotypes the preacher’s children aren’t angels but they are but human.YOU EXPECT MORE THAN I CAN OFFER HENCE I AM NEVER GOOD ENOUGH BECAUSE MY PARENTS ARE ALMOST PERFECT IN YOUR EYES BUT REMEMBER I AM JUST THE PREACHERS DAUGHTER AND I AM NOT SORRY FOR LIVING MY OWN LIFE.
Diary of the preacher’s daughter..