There are a lot of “Daddy’s Girls” out there, but I am not one of them.
To define our relationship like that would misconstrue it; we were simpatico. I’d say it was bad experiences throughout school which probably made me much more accepting.
I grew up in a wonderful and loving home in Southern California.
I had an older brother and sister 12 and 15 years my senior respectively, parents who were happy together, and my aunt and cousins lived one street over.
He had every right to be sad, angry, pissed off, frustrated, or just instantly “over it”.
The conversation quickly fizzled and I walked away knowing my pain was now his too and there was nothing I could do to fix it.
I politely responded saying that I appreciated the explanation, but that these were not terms and conditions I was willing to live by.
My mom began studying for her Bachelor’s degree when I was 2 so I spent most of my free time watching WWF and eating Doritos with my Dad for nearly a decade.
How does he feel like the personification of why my Dad is not around? News reached my Dad that Aaron and I had broken up, and on the eve of my 29 birthday my Dad wrote me a lengthy email attempting to mend our relationship.
Though I was definitely willing to fight for him, I couldn’t pretend to understand what it’s like to be black or how he was interpreting any of this news. The email explained his feelings about black people as far as romantic relationships go and the culture differences from our own.
Some shrugged it off as being a typical reaction and just part of the everyday racism they experience as a people.
Others said Aaron and I should have known what we were getting into.