Skip to main content

A Daughter's Anger

I am angry. This evening I spoke to my mother's baby daddy. I would refer to him as my father, but that wouldn't adequately reflect our relationship. He's the man whose genetic components mixed with my mother's to produce me. That was the end of his contribution to my existence.

This is the man I'd longed to know for years when I was a child. My mother, to her credit, never spoke ill of him. Instead, she'd always say, "You'd really like him if you got to know him." In my mind, he was the one who would rescue me from a stepfather who didn't love me and a mother too preoccupied with keeping the peace to notice. I used to love the song, Daddy's Home, because I thought he really cared about me, but just couldn't get to me to show it.

When I finally met him at the tender age of 22, I found him to be an arrogant, selfish person who had eyes like mine. He's into making good impressions, and he's very curious about everything. We share some amazing similarities, but I don't know him. Even though I'd wanted to have a healthy relationship with my mother's baby's daddy, I couldn't because he never acknowledged his wrong. I've had to relagate him to a corner in my world because his indifference to my feelings hurts me.

I've tried to look at it from an adult point of view, After all, if I'd become an unwilling parent at 22, I might have been scared and tried to run from the situation, too. However, I'd like to think that I'd be able to understand my estranged child's anger.

Actually, I didn't want to tell him about Granny's death. It just so happened that my father's other daughter -- a young lady who's 10 months younger than me -- lost her mother the Thursday before Granny died. Even though we don't have a relationship, either -- that's another story I'll fill you in on later -- I felt like it would be wrong for me not to acknowledge her loss. The day I'd decided to call our father to get her number was the day that Granny chose to go on to Glory. When I told him about it, he said he wanted to come. I told him that it was alright, that I was good. Besides, my mom has been sick lately, and I didn't want his presence to upset her at a time like this. Thankfully, he ended up sending a plant.

This evening's call was to check on me and find out how everything went. I thanked him for the plant and gave him the press-release version of the story. He then asked me how everything was going for me in California.

Before I go on, I need to give you some of the backstory. As I said before, he's never done anything for me. At Christmas, he wired me $50 so that I could, quote, "have a nice lunch," since I wasn't able to make it home to be with my family. While it was a kind gesture, it was almost insulting to me as I struggled to figure out how to make my ends meet. When we spoke a month later, I told him exactly how dire my straits were. The statement I made to him was, "I'm one step away from the [stripping] pole." His response? "I don't know what to tell you." Unbelievable, right?

Well, when he posed the "how's it going" question today, I told him that I don't get paid when I don't work, and I haven't worked for the last nine days. He said, "Well, keep me posted."

Will someone please explain to me why I need to keep him posted? He OBVIOUSLY doesn't care. It would've been better if he'd said, "Well, I can't help you now, but I would if I could." Even if it was a lie, it would've been better than the nothing-type response he gave.

More later...


Popular posts from this blog

On Barack, the Nomination, and Black Love

I'm so excited about Barack Obama! I know I'm just joining the teeming millions when I say that, but I think something this big is worth repeating. Never before in the history of our country has a Black man been in a position to lead the free world, and it feels good. I'm so glad that I've lived long enough to see this day.

Beside the fact that Barack is a great candidate for the Democratic party, I'm moved by his relationship with Michelle. Not since The Cosby Show have we seen a successful Black couple who have a genuine and sincere love and respect for one another. What makes their relationship so special is that it's real -- not the product of someone's imagination.

I obviously don't know Michelle Obama, but I want to grow up to be just like her. I love the fact that she doesn't NEED Barack. She's strong, smart, and successful in her own right, yet secure enough to fall back and be supportive of her man. That's something that all y…

In My Feelings...Again

There are times when I think I should change the name of this blog. Today I do NOT feel like a diva. I feel like a pitiful mess of a woman who's completely in my feelings.

I hate it when I get here.

I was minding my business last night when Juice hit me up. (Remind me to tell you about him later.) He wanted to hang out because we'd actually said we would. But he's he's only after one thing and I wasn't inspired enough to venture out to deal with him, so I told him I was in for the evening.

At the same time, New Boo asked me if I'd done my hair.

Let's be clear. My hair in and of itself isn't necessarily that big a deal. However, him asking me about it could indicate that I was on his mind and that he cared about me in more than a horizontal way. That would be awesome...but I know it's not true. Even though I engaged in conversation with him -- because that's what I do -- it was painful.

I am lonely. I want to be with someone who cares about me. I…

Yeah...About That...

I'm watching Scandal, and Mellie was talking about how lonely it is to be the president. She spoke about how men have a problem with regular powerful women, but being the leader of the free world comes with a chastity belt.
I get it.
I'm nowhere near the leader of the free world. I'm not even the leader of free lunch, but I get it. If men perceive you to have one more drop of power than they do, they can't handle it.
This is my life. At least it is when it comes to the men I've known.
It's not even like that for me.
I don't even have enough juice to get what I want at work.
But yet I'm seen as intimidating.