daddy dearest

fathers don't always get the same love that mothers do. but as father's day approaches i've been thinking on fathers and the fathers in my live.

the stepfather: after i wrote this to my stepfather, many of you suggested that i send a copy to him. i did and he really enjoyed it. i know i'm growing when i can freely share with those i love that i love them. happy father's day, william james!

the biological father: a few days ago, i was looking for a card for my stepfather, picking through the selection trying to find just the right words to convey how much he means to me. once i'd settled on the perfect card, i thought about my real father, whom i think of less as a father but more as the "dear old man who i am fond of." i picked out a simpler card for him, realizing this might be the first father's day card i'd ever gotten him. and more importantly, i might be the only one of his 6 children who would send him one this year. when he calls me for his bi-weekly check-ins, he likes to remind me that i'm the only one who regularly answers when he calls, the only one he can get a hold of. despite what he hasn't been to me in the past, i'm glad i can be the lifeline for him now.

the client father: remember this guy? i almost cried as he expressed his love for his daughters in a crowded courtroom. in the days after he was sentenced, i checked the computer system regularly to see whether he had made it out. i was saddened when an immigration hold popped up on him. but just last week as i was walking over to courthouse, i looked up and saw him walking down the sidewalk toward me. for a second i scrambled to recall his name and case. and then as he smiled it clicked. "you got out!?!" i exclaimed. all is well with him and hopefully he will spend father's day with his daughters.

happy father's day!

holding back tears

when i became a public defender i figured it would be really emotional. dealing with people who are locked away from their families on a daily basis can wear on you. back in my law school clinical course, we imagined what it would be like to be a public defender and pontificated about the caring side of the work. how you might get emotionally attached to your clients. how there would be days when you would want to cry. and i always thought that if this job did make me want to cry, that urge wouldn't come until i got home, under the covers, in the dark, with donny hathaway singing "young gifted and black". then i'd cry. about how helpless i felt. the revolving jail house doors. the feeling of treading water and never getting anywhere, never making any headway with my clients or changing their lives.

i didn't think that i would want to cry in the middle of a crowded courtroom as i stood before the judge with my client as he was found guilty of loving his children too much. in spite of the law. but last night that's just what i felt. i had to bite my lip to keep the tears from spilling out.

my client was charged with violating a protective order, a minor offense that carries up to 6 months in jail. under the letter of the law, he had violated the order which provided that he not contact his wife or 2 young daughters by phone or mail without the court's permission (although he was allowed to have supervised visits with the children 3 times per week). but by the spirit of the law what he had done was understandable and arguably justifiable. while incarcerated in an immigration facility awaiting deportation, he had written one last letter, a goodbye to his oldest daughter. he had gotten word that his daughter was doing poorly in school during his five month incarceration and wanted to encourage her to do better in school despite his absence. he wanted his child to know that he loved her.

so he sent a letter to her at her church school, care of his pastor. and that letter violated the protective order. so as we stood there, the judge pronounced him guilty, noting that he was "forced to do so" given that my client had written the letter, a clear violation. the judge offered a few pacifying words about understanding why my client wrote the letter but that the court had to enforce the order. the judge then looked to my client and asked him if he wanted to say anything.

my client talked about his love for his children and how he didn't know when he would see them again. how close he and the daughter were and how he wanted her not to make a bad turn in her life because of him, his absence. so he considered his interests against his child's interests and decided that he had to write the letter in order to let her know that he loved her and wanted the best for her.

and that's when i wanted to cry. who wouldn't shed a tear at that? no matter what this man had done to his wife, if her allegations of abuse hold true, his love for his kids is genuine.

in the end, my client didn't get the 6 months and instead got 30 days which he had already served. he was happy with what i had done for him. but who knows what will happen to him. he could very well be right back in an immigration facility based on this new conviction. i just hope his daughters know what he went through for them.

just in case you were wondering, i love you

last summer at my cousin's wedding reception she danced with her mama and her daddy to musiq soulchild's "Mother/Father." twas one of those classic wedding awwwww moments. and i thought to myself, when i get married, i want to dance to that song with my stepfather.

now me and my stepfather haven't always had the best relationship. he's one of those people who is stubborn and always thinks they are right about everything, and will tell you bout yourself even if you didn't ask to hear it. he wouldn't hesitate to tell one of my friends that she was gettin fat when she came by the house. or to point out to some dude i brought over to meet him that he didn't seem very bright (to his face!)

he irritated me to no end because he always seemed to think he knew what was best for meand he never listened to a word i had to say once he made up his mind. one time in particular he threatened to "wash his hands of me" if i didn't accept a full scholarship and go to famu like he decided i should instead of going to spelman, the school i'd been dreaming about for most of my high school years. nevermind that i wasn't asking him for a dime to fund my college education. he just wanted me to do what he said. and i just wanted his approval of my choice.

i was mad behind that for about a week or two before i decided that i only had a few more months of living in his house anyway. but over the years since then, with time and space between us, those hard feelings have given way to love and respect. for he has been one of the contsant encouragers in my life, even if i had to swallow a handful of nails before i got to the honey in his words.

he was the one who went down to my elementary school and demanded that they test me for the gifted and talented program because he noticed that i didn't seem challenged by my school work.

he was the one i could call when i was down to my last $100 during those couple of weeks at the end of the semester when the refund money had run dry.

he is the one who tells me that out of all of his children, he is most proud of me.

past differences aside, he has been the best father to me, better than my real father could ever hope to be. right now he's goin through something so heavy that i honestly don't know if i'll be able to dance with him at my wedding like i want to. i try to picture us there, in the middle of some grand hall, swaying softly to the music. memories of my debutante presentation give me a glimpse of what it could be like. i pray that he gets well but to my stepfather before I forget, thank you for all that you have been to me and just in case you are wondering I love you...

I know that our differencse caused us to waste so much of our time we could have used getting to know each and one another/But now that I've grown into my own and learned some things about life I now can see that it wasn't easy to raise someone like me.

I remember those days when you used to sit me down and try to school me about the plenty opportunities in life/Hoping and wishing and praying that something would stick and somehow click within this mind of mine/See you used to say, if you throw enough on the wall something is bound to rub off and I'm here to tell you that you don't have to really worry about me at all

There was no limit to all the things that you've done and would have for me my sister and I'll never understand how you would talk all day long and just as you said, in one ear and out the other/Isn't it funny how things change when you get older? (And you start to see things for yourself)/Now I know that I'll never find another love like yours inside anyone else

Mother-Father before I forget/Thank you for all that you have been to me and just in case you are wondering I love you...

Daddy's Little Girl

You are the god and the weight of her world

So fathers be good to your daughters

Daughters will love like you do

-John Mayer, Daughters

This might be two posts in one, but follow me down the rabbit hole anyway. So, last Sunday it was Children and Youth Day at the church I visited. The choir loft was at least 50 kids deep. So, when they sang one song, three girls shared the “solo” part. Two girls were older, maybe 8 or 9 years old, and the other girl was significantly younger and too cute! They would hand the little one the mic and she would sing her one line with all her heart. Everyone laughed and applauded. You know how we do. So, when they were finished, pastor calls the little girl down and asked, “How old are you?

“Three,” she said. More ooohs and ahhhs.
“You are so pretty. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” she said shyly.
“You did? Who told you you’re pretty,” he asked.
“My daddy,” she said. You could almost hear hearts breaking.
And then pastor asked the father to stand up. And when he did, he had the biggest grin on his face. “She got you wrapped around her finger,” pastor said.

Indeed. There is nothing like having a daddy who tells you that you are beautiful and makes you feel loved on a daily basis. I thank God for mine. And I wish more women had a father like mine. I know that having a father in the home, not having a father in the home, the kind of father you have (whether in the home or not) has an impact, both positive and negative, in so many areas of a woman’s life ranging from how they view themselves to how they interact with other men. Like Chris Rock said, “every man has dated a woman with daddy issues…”

Now this is where I go farther down into the hole, but stay with me. Awhile back when I lived in Atlanta, my friend and I were sitting at a bar of a restaurant named after a jewel and the day of week. They had great 2 for 1 drink specials. Can’t beat that with a bat. So, friend and I are drinking and there’s a group of guys next to us doing the same. So as drinkers are apt to do, we stuck up a conversation with one another. We learned that a majority of the men in the group were married. Rum Punch’s Disclaimer: There’s nothing wrong with a guys’ night out every now and then. End of Rum Punch’s Disclaimer But this was these men’s routine: drink with one another every night to avoid going home. How do I know? Because that’s what they said to us.

“I don’t want to go home. My wife nags me,” the chorus sang.
“Well maybe if you went home and didn’t leave her alone on the daily to raise the kids, feed the kids, wash they asses, help them with homework, put them to bed, she wouldn’t nag,” we said.

And then it was on like popcorn because these men had the nerve to use that tired line and say every man cheats. What? Not our daddies. Oh yes, your daddies too, they said. Those were fighting words. Because these men didn’t know about us. Word up Yonce. Or our daddies. We had daddies in our lives that came home every day on the regular, I mean same Batman time, same Batman place, regular. My homegirl’s daddy used to pick her up from school and make her soup and baked potato, or some “weird” combination that she loved, every.single.day.

I had to let them know that I don’t have any memories of my father coming home late after a night with the guys, missing the everyday moments of my brother and I growing up. What I remember is having dinners together as a family, him helping me with a science project, taking us kids for the day so my mom could get some rest. And I say this not to brag, but to make the point that even though I don’t know the intricacies of my parents’ marriage, growing up I learned and watched my father’s character and actions and they spoke volumes, and were louder than any words ever said. And you know this can work in reverse, right? Yeah... However, in terms of words spoken, my father always said that, “A man doesn’t have to cheat. He chooses to cheat. There is something called free will and self control.” Tabernacle, Synagogue! But as usual I digress...

The thing is that little girls (and sons too, but stay with me) need love from their daddy, regardless of if the father is in the home or not, regardless of the crazy baby mama who won’t “let” you see your child (that’s a post for a whole ‘nother day), regardless of if a man sees his child every weekend or every day. Certain things like knowing you are wanted and loved, feeling important, worthy and valued, can permeate no matter how hard someone tries to block it. And certain things can linger for too many years, like feelings of abandonment, of being unwanted and unloved, or not loved enough.

I had this post in mind before I realized that Father’s Day is this Sunday, but I’m glad it came to me. And I’m glad that last Sunday I saw that little girl and her daddy’s love. It gave me hope. It gave me encouragement. It made me smile. And it made me reminisce. Because despite all the negativity, the statistics, the mess we see and hear in the news and in our everyday lives, there are great men out here, getting the job done by being involved in their kids’ lives. So, if you know a man: your daddy, granddaddy, step daddy, uncle, cousin, baby daddy (I'm sorry father of your child), deacon, neighbor, friend, who is putting in the work to be a good father, tell him how much you appreciate him this Sunday (and of course everyday-but you know) And if you’re a father who is making sure your daughter knows her worth, well, Happy Father’s Day! And shout out to my daddy, the best daddy in the whole wide world who still tells me I’m beautiful! Everybody say awwwww...

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

pour out a little...

last night i was avoiding my father. he called and i didn't answered. i just didn't feel like it. see my dad rambles. and he mumbles. and he slurs. and he talks real fast so that i can't understand what he's saying.

he's a vietnam veteran. with post tramautic stress syndrome. and a mean off-and-on drug addiction.

this is my father.

he and my mom divorced when i was about 8 and thankfully i had a sometimes annoying but none-the-less-there stepfather who has not hesitated to do anything within his power for me and my sisters. thank God for him.

meanwhile my father was absent for much of my growing up, although we saw him every now and then through the years. just recently in the last 5 years, my contact with him has been more frequent and i've grown to understand who he is and what he couldn't be with such clarity that at times i deal with him not as my father but as a dear old man who i am fond of.

so when i was startled awake by my sister calling me at 6am this morning I was shocked at what she had to say.

her baby's father is dead.

and i cried.

those who know the back story would be a little surprised that i cried. because dude has not won any baby daddy of the year awards in the 5 years my beautiful wonderful smart funny cool-ass niece has been on this earth. he's ducked and dodged and a few years ago was laid up on a ventilator after being shot several times.

exactly!

but i cried for his soul, for my sister, for baby daddy's family, and most of all for my niece who has lost her father. who she adored despite his absences. whose height she has. whose aunt's gap she has.

and in my mind i connect her loss with my loss of my father to war and drugs.

how will this change her? some shit she aint want no parts to. she want her daddy. always.

shit sucks...

R.I.P. Young Man