And before I even get started I want you to know that it took me 10 minutes to write this. Please don’t mistake this for me feeling sorry for myself because I truly care very little.

The point for me is: there are a lot of girls out there who haven’t gotten to that point yet and I remember being young and angry and feeling like Will Smith in that episode of the Fresh Prince when he’s crying and says “How come he don’t want me man?”.

Really quick background for you: my parents divorced when I was like 10-months-old. Should have been way sooner but my mom wanted to make sure that my dad was in my baptism pictures because, you know, Catholic Italians.

Anyway so I get my dad on Sunday’s and he don’t know what the fuck to do with me… so I learn and love Rocky Balboa, Bruce Lee, everything DC and Marvel. It’s part of the reason I’m so fucking awesome. I can admit that.

Here is who I am:

I would walk into my dads on a Sunday and strip down to my underoos. I’d flex in front of the mirror and watch Fist of  Fury on repeat. My memories are very abstract but I remember doing “karate” and learning how to dub my lines. Struggling to start my words without moving my lips and move my lips without finishing my sentence the way they did in the movies to make my dad laugh.

I was my father’s first son. I loved Mike Tyson. Shit, I’m Tamara Lee because duh Bruce Lee. I used to love protein pancakes on sundays, watching fights on pay-per-view with my dad.

Then I turn 12, custody battle ensues, dirty dirty tactics are used, my mom becomes the enemy because I’m young and I know better than she does obviously and I want to live with my siblings. Plus my step mom is way fucking cool… until she’s not.

Once they have custody of me I become basically Matilda… but Matilda is a mom of 5 and Danny DeVito is beating my ass every chance she gets. My dad acts completely oblivious. Honestly, you’d barely know he lives with us. He never hit us but he never noticed black and blues or busted lips either. Silence is also a form of abuse. Or maybe he was just a pussy. Really, couldn’t tell ya. Plus the one time I tried to tell him he told her like a real bird and I got my ass beat for being a rat so it’s not even like he’s an ally.

So then… my mom passes when I turn 18 and Danny has nothing nice to say. I was not allowed to go to my mother’s funeral. I was sent to her sisters for the weekend and she told my dad I didn’t want to go. All hell breaks lose in February when Danny punches me in the mouth and calls my mother a whore and all I can think is:

‘You’re real tough now that she isn’t here to beat your ass, huh.’ I see fucking red.

I beat Danny’s ass because, a. you know, teen angst, and b. I ain’t no punk bitch. So, I’m out. But when I’m out… I’m really out. That first night I slept on a park bench with my garbage bag. She tried to have me arrested but the cops actually recognized her name on the police report from all the fake reports she’d filed in the past and they let me go. Ha, bitch.

After that I’m sharing beds with my friends and sleeping on couches til a few years later when my step father tries to save me but that’s another story for another day. When you’re 20 everyone’s the enemy but I am grown now and I KNOW: that man was more of a father to me than this guy ever tried to be or hoped he could be.

Okay so. This guy writes me on Facebook like every 12 years and I do not get it. You can’t possibly think I need you now? I needed you when I was getting my ass beat and getting woken up at 3 am to clean the bathroom the night before my SATs. I needed you when I was in college and couldn’t go to class on exam days because one of your kids had a fever and someone was too drunk to care. I needed you when I had to fill out a FAFSA and needed your tax return to file. I needed you when I was putting tuition on my credit cards at 24 because I couldn’t get financial aid.

I needed you a lot of other times that I can’t even think of because I’m so far fucking passed it that your actual existence is so pointless to me now. And I say that with no hatred in my heart. I just know I never needed you because I’m still here. Not JUST still here. I am successful. I BUILT THIS SHIT. I was put in a position that would have destroyed most people and i bodied it. 

I guess you’re proud of me for some reason? Because I have succeeded despite how far behind the eight ball you put me? The part that confuses me is that you truly have no reason to be proud. Please know that. Pride is a privilege. My friend said that to me today and it’s so true. You haven’t earned it at all.

Anyway:

My friends are my sisters and they have kids now. This corona pandemic has made it so I can’t see them except on FaceTime. It’s been almost three months and I miss them. So much. I can’t imagine if I had my own. I can’t imagine making my 18 year old a dumpster baby. You know… throwing her in the trash and hoping for the best. I try to put myself in your shoes and I just don’t get it. My girlfriend’s nephew looks for me, his WaWa.. and I hate to disappoint him by not being there. I get legitimately sad. So, I don’t think I’ve inherited anything from you other than dimples.

And you never have anything good to say either. Never once have I received a single apology I so deserve. For anything. I know what I look like no one has to tell me I’m beautiful. You shouldn’t take credit for that either I am the spitting image of my mother, though again, thanks for the dimples.

I think I’ll drop this on Father’s Day for the shawties with the “daddy issues” and to remind my babies of something my mom used to say to me:

Marry a man better than your father.

Post scriptum:

The strongest girls I know don’t have dads.