On my first day at Longwood Infants School we were all asked our names. I said that my name is Dorothy but I do get called Dottie. I told the teacher that my grandfather always called me a bastard. I didn’t understand why he called me a bastard. I didn’t understand why my teacher look so shocked, as my grandfather used to use the name with such ease. Most children have nice nicknames and I just assumed that he had given me a nickname. Years later I found out that it meant something very different and I was indeed horrified.
So when I was ten years old I wrote this poem:
Poppa calls me a bastard,
He says it every day,
My mumma said that its a nasty word for my poppa to say,
She said that all children are loved by Jesus,
and Jesus loves us all the same.
And how I wish that poppa wouldn’t call me that awful name.
But poppa said that I’m indeed a bastard and this had made me sad,
He calls me a bastard because I haven’t got a dad.
Dorothy: Age 10