When I first became a mother, I was under the impression that there would be no room for debate on the choices I would make for my child. I can’t believe how incorrect I was, especially in a society where women are not yet fully considered equal to men.
When I was trying to get a passport for my daughter, I recall that I had to present all of the necessary paperwork in order for the application to be processed. After around two weeks, the contact I had at the passport office requested that I return there to pick up another document. When I arrived, I was informed that I would need to make an affidavit under oath. I was taken aback because I was certain that I had attached all of her birth certificates as well as the results of her DNA test; yet, this was not sufficient.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, her father and I had discussed getting married, but we ultimately chose to postpone our wedding until after the baby was born. She had already been given his surname by the time she was born, and although we had intended to give her mine when we got married, our plans fell through and we never tied the knot. Story for another day.
The affidavit serves as conclusive evidence that I am, in fact, the biological mother of my child. I laughed out loud and shook my head in utter bewilderment. After I had completed it and handed it in, I was informed that I would need to wait in order to speak with a manager and “further defend” myself. Why? What exactly do all of them mean? I pondered the idea in my head.
The man, upon meeting him, said that he wants to know why I am getting a passport for my daughter and why her father is not here with me to do it together. He also asked why I was getting a passport for my daughter. He inquired as to whether or not her father was aware of the situation, as well as what exactly her father had to say when I informed him. He inquired as to why we did not get married and whether or not he found me to be so intolerable that he chose not to marry me. He asked me if I wanted to run away with my child, saying that it wouldn’t be the first time a single mother would do so without the approval of the child’s father and that it’s not uncommon for single mothers to do so with several children.
While I was responding to him, I was basically pleading my case to have the passport done, thus it was quite difficult for me to keep from heaving and giving him a chilly stare. He stated that eventually, he will submit it so that it may be processed since he wants to believe that my baby daddy is aware of the situation. Hmmm.
When I arrived home from work that day, I felt depressed and undervalued. I grew up in a culture in which being a single mother isn’t exactly understood or acknowledged. As a result, I was required to continuously explain my status and demonstrate that the child in question is in fact mine.
When I went to pick up the passport after it was ready, I discovered that there was another problem. The female officer told me that she could not provide it to me since our families do not have the same surnames. I felt so ashamed that I was on the verge of crying, but I forced the tears back down. She instructed me to provide evidence that at least one of my parents bears her name.
I immediately contacted her father and asked him to fax me a copy of his most recent photo identification and a letter granting me permission to retrieve the passport. I used it to pick up the passport, and I also used those, along with the findings of the DNA test, to have it activated in their system. This was necessary because the women who were in charge of the activation didn’t want to let me leave with it. I used that to prove my identity.
She eventually revealed that she will keep a copy of my birth certificate, the DNA test results, and his consent letter just in case. In what circumstance? In the event that I hide, or in the event that my baby daddy tells on me, or what? Because I was so unhappy, as soon as I signed the collection register, I fled the location as swiftly as possible.
This brings to mind a time when I wanted to open a savings bank account for my daughter, and the customer care representative gave me a funny look and judged me in some way because I presented documents that didn’t have the same surname as my daughter’s.
This is something that has reminded me of that experience. She shrugged her shoulders and indicated with a dismissive tone that some extra documents are required before turning to her screen to tell me that if I receive them, then they can establish the account.
It was necessary for me to let her know that I was unable to hear what she was saying so that she could address me by looking at me. She purposefully and slowly turned her back to me and reiterated what she had just said in a chilly tone. I abruptly turned around and walked away without being acknowledged.
When a woman is a single parent, she faces a unique set of challenges, some more severe than others. But one must survive. No, not just survive. Lately, I am inspired by the new wave of female-dominated movies – King of boys, The Woman King, and so on. So, I choose to dominate my world. Because queens don’t count. Only kings do.
- Omonefe, a single mom of one, is a social entrepreneur who strives to balance work and personal life in the bustling city of Lagos while writing short stories of lived experiences as a single mom. Comments are welcome
