The Inconvenience of Not Inconveniencing
“Nikki, just ask your dad for the shoes. He probably wants you to ask.”
These were words spoken by my mother after I asked her for money to purchase a baby blue pair of Timberlands that were all the rage in 1999. I was 15-years-old and my small check from Mancino’s Pizza & Grinders wouldn’t cut it. My mother didn’t have the money, but encouraged me to ask my dad, which wasn’t easy for me.
My parents divorced when I was 7-years-old and afterwards I lived with my mother. From being newly single to remarrying, I always lived with her, with the exception of one summer I spent with my father, stepmother and stepsister. Living with one parent versus visiting the other on weekends and holidays, made me more comfortable with my mother. My mother saw the “everyday Nik”. She saw ‘Puberty Nik’, ‘had a bad day at school’ Nik, the goofy and overly dramatic Nik - no matter what, my mother saw it all, while a more “polished” Nikki was reserved for my father. This Nikki was on the honor roll. She worked and saved her money, and she most definitely didn’t ask her father for anything without first experiencing a ton of anxiety. My father always gave me everything I asked of him, from flights to California to the baby blue Timberland boots, so I had no real reason to be afraid of asking him for things. In retrospect, I’m beginning to realize I was raised not to be an inconvenience, which I’m also realizing has become quite the… inconvenience.
As soon as I could obtain my driver’s permit at the age of 15, I had it. I can say the same thing about my driver’s license. I think I actually got my license on my 16th birthday. From Mancino’s Pizza to Walgreens, to Victoria’s Secret to Marshall Field’s, I kept a little job with some money in my pocket and had a used car. My mother and I prided ourselves on me being independent. When it was time for me to go to college I moved out of my mother’s home to live on campus and never looked back, with the exception of spending a few summer’s at my mother’s house. Little Miss Independent had a job, car, and rented a spacious home in the burbs. I came and went as I pleased, occasionally asking my parents for help with “big” purchases or getting out of a few financial pickles. That was as far as it went. But I recently blinked and turned 40-years-old, and am beginning to realize being independent can only take you so far.
A few years ago I wrote an op-ed piece for Parents Magazine, questioning if Black families still live in multigenerational households? I asked, because after giving birth to India, I realized the stark difference in how she was being raised versus my upbringing. While the three of us live in a 3 bedroom/ 2 bathroom apartment in Bronzeville, I have memories of living with my grandmother, aunts and cousins. Oh, the inconvenience of six people sharing one bathroom, while experiencing the beautiful convenience of community.
I try my best not to ask anyone for anything, unless I really need it. I never want to be an inconvenience. However, my community feels safe asking me for favors, big and small, and I enjoy it. I love coming through for my family when I can. Coming through and giving is my favorite love language.
“Nikki, just ask your dad for the shoes. He probably wants you to ask.”
Maybe my mama was on to something.
My desire to not want to inconvenience people has inconvenienced me, way too much, and snatched away opportunities to build community and create priceless memories.
Our friends recently got married and during the reception, my husband and a few brothers shared stories about the groom. Most stories had a common theme of the groom taking them somewhere they didn’t want to be and keeping them longer than they anticipated on staying. Sounds like a huge inconvenience, right? But as they laughed through the stories, they made it clear the groom would do the same for each of them.
Beautifully inconvenienced.
Your Favorite Cousin,
Nikki
p.s. Can I inconvenience you and ask you to consider becoming a paid subscriber for $10/month? xoxo