Man… fuck! What the fuck is going on in the cosmos? Here we are again just feeling all the emotions of life. This time in the most positive of ways possible. Healing, growing, learning, developing, striving. I’m beyond proud of the man I see in front of me today. A proud Son, a determined Father, an ambitious Professional, a loving Brother, an Inspired Uncle. How did we get here? What the fuck is really happening in my life right now? Well… let’s not waste any more time. Happy Father’s Day to EVERY Father out there! From One to One!
This King that you’ve seen on display for the better part of 20 years now, came from the hood bitch. I was born in the projects, started growing and developing there. Honestly, I loved it. I used to run with my older cousins, and nigga, let me tell you something!!! It was fuckin exhilarating! Like nigga, I’m this lil ass jit, okay! My cousins are older and already developing/developed. They chasin girls and instead of me being at home, I was always with them. They used to tell me, be quiet, don’t say nothin. And what the fuck did I do…? I stayed the fuck quiet and didn’t say shit. LMFAO. Truth is, I love them for it. Because it showed me what the streets are/were. How to maneuver tactfully in the streets, when you get ready. It also teaches you how to handle yourself at all times. Authentic, direct, but approachable always. Never being too caught up on U, because that’s when U make mistakes and get fucked up. Always keep it on the whole, which starts with U! Without U, the circle doesn’t work, because U are the needle that threads it all together. Watch and see how this universe works. That’s what a Father is to me. Always underappreciated, but ALWAYS necessary. No matter what form it took in development, a true Father will ALWAYS Be present.
He will most likely not come made this way. There isn’t a blueprint, and the examples aren’t always the best or most desired. So, learning how to Be a Father is something that takes time, desire, skill, and love. Shaped from the beginning of understanding the man, and what his expected role is versus what his role needs to be. The man called Father on my birth certificate is an example of the standard, Black male Father figure. He worked and provided the majority of the income with his salary. Provided stability and certainty. Demonstrated what work ethic and hard work is supposed to look like. Also, displaying the need for balance in life. Take time away for yourself to be with the family you created. But he failed in the most important areas. He didn’t build bonds, lasting and emotional. He didn’t understand true quality time and what it meant. Far too often content with the small, nominal gestures that satisfied the bar. Wondering why the child you clamored to bear Your name sake, felt and behaved nothing like You. Never able to connect with him because You preferred to be the Man’s man. More concerned with how You look, than how Your family sees you. You used your charm and charisma to fuck around when You desired. You had the nerve to take me around one of the women. She’s a mother, so I will not disrespect her, but any of them others that You chose to slang Your dick in… bruh, just straight trash. Mostly, You.
I was always watching. I always saw and felt everything. I never talked about it because it wasn’t business to tell. It was, however, my life. Even as a kid I ran from the tragedy. Always desiring to be with my best friends, as opposed to this house. Because the man that’s supposed to be the leader doesn’t know how to lead a fuck thing, except his dick. Always wondering why, You never stepped up and moved up in Your career? Just driving them damn busses every fucking day. Until You got too old to trick off and You finally sat that down and made a couple career moves. Too late to be useful to the families You created. Because that’s right, You have four other children, before me, and one after me. Nigga You definitely fit in with Your times. Make them babies, and not necessarily with the same women. You have 6 different Mothers of Your children. Your first born is the one who was the most like You. Moved just like You. Nasty and trifling. And it was there that Your downfall came. The final nail in Your coffin came after his memorial service. When You stood there, grinning for the people, Salesman for the family, basically meaning You, and betrayer in the eyes of the woman You regret most.
As a kid, I always knew the role you played. You were the parent who was involved enough that You were present. They saw You when it was time to get the shine. Your son, who has Your name is out here showing out again. Whether in the Hood elementary schools, after school, Suburban elementary school, I was gone stand out no matter what. It’s just who I am. When I want something, I’m gone get it. If it’s meant to be mines, when I apply pressure, it’s coming home. You ate that shit up out in them streets. Always talking to Your people about what I’m accomplishing, and how I’m accomplishing it. Knowing that My Mother wants me to know ALL of my family, we gravitate, now, to Your side of the family more. Around for all the family shit. Cookouts, family functions, church, all that shit. I’m seeing all my cousins more frequently. Around during the holiday season. Being compared to my younger cousin. We’re a year apart so close enough to compare, in their eyes. Because I was always thought of as more on my momma side, Your people were always sketchy with me. Showing commercial love always, but really only a few of them fucked with me for real. We were never gone fit into their Churchgoing ass circle. You never had the balls to tell them to back the fuck up, so we knew that it was gone be up to us to find our way to fit in. Some Father you are. Your family needs You to be the leader, and You bitch up. Preferring to be preoccupied with who knows the fuck now.
That experiment eventually crashed and burned. Although, it came back a couple times out of necessity. Always showing that it has potential, but never can be fully realized because You could never be a leader. I saw You always proud of me when I showed out. You also beamed whenever me and my siblings were able to join together. Problem was, them niggas couldn’t stand Yo ass. My sisters were always partial to You though. So, I always knew of their presence, more than my older brothers. Awards ceremonies, You were always counted on to be there. The big ones only. The smaller, intimate affairs, reserved for my mother. When I tore the house down in front of the school board in elementary school. Nigga, You ate that shit up. I was the fuckin show, and You made sure Your name got dripped on. My mother prepared that prince that night. She does that grunt work. Polishing my skills, always pushing my vernacular growth. Never allowing me to start something and see it to a conclusion. You were out there pounding pavement, much respect to You for that. But You failed to do the work. End of elementary school saw me show my ass AGAIN. And there You were, present to get the shine, overstepping my mother. Boy scouts, You did the same thing. When it was competition time, Yo ass was front and center. When it’s grind time, just me and her. Your example was always lacking in the personal department. Never fully appreciating that I watched You, because You were my example. Purposefully chosen to bring Your legacy into the world. And just like with Your other children, You were absent in being a fully present Father.
Presidential Academics and Physical Fitness. You were lights, camera, action for those moments, bro. Smiling for the people, lovingly embracing Your family. Allowing the audience to see that this is a proud, two parent household. Meanwhile, behind the doors, You can’t keep Your dick to Yourself. You bring me along with You to the woman’s house, who would become Your sixth and final mother of Your child. How disgusting of a role model can You be? Buying Your son’s silence and praying on his compassionate heart. Knowing that the love he has for his mother would see him hurt in silence, before he wanted her to hurt out loud. Praying on that to wedge him and his mother. You were the worst kind of Father. Present and destructive. The absent Father is destructive, because his active presence makes the difference in his sons’ life. You are the worst, because You have the power to help shape a generational leader. And You chose to try and poison him instead. You knew that I have greatness inside me. It was always and is always on display. You didn’t know how to grow and transcend, because You chose to be stuck in the paradigm of what the traditional Church said a Black Man was supposed to be. And Your family was too stuck up the religion’s ass to tell You the fuckin truth. Except one, and that’s she was always my favorite auntie. Her daughters my favorite and most loyal cousins.
When You, the Father, saw the first signs that Your son was gay, the reaction by You, was to show me straight porn. To introduce me to titties and pussy, dick and ass. That’s where You fucked up, and You never knew it. Hell yea I loved watching that shit. At first, it was because of the fuckin. I loved seeing the big, black dick slide in and out of the wett pussy. But after a short time, I didn’t give a fuck about the pussy, I became fixated on the man. His chiseled body, that bush that led down to his shiny, massive, hard, chocolate dick, beautiful balls, and his perfect, plump, soft, juicy ass. Like nigga damn, let me come join and fuck the shit out You, while You fuck the girl. HAHAHA. Anyway, this was your attempt to get me to understand sex, the traditional nature of it, and who I’m supposed to fuck. Then the next step was to attempt to bond with me by talking about Your fucking stories. How You slept with different women, and when You didn’t want to fuck them, You laid in bed with them, with Your dick between Your legs. Interesting anecdotes from Your life. Needless to say, You didn’t try understanding me, and You didn’t ask any questions to try and figure me out. Just used the normal male bonding shit, that failed miserably. As a man, and a Father You let the mother of Your fifth child find out about Your sixth child through the streets. How the fuck do You justify that? Then You didn’t facilitate the introduction of Your youngest two children, of course the women of the family had to engineer that. Some Father You are, right. What do I do with that? I’m watching my family crumble, and my example isn’t show me a fuckin thing, except for what not to do.
Right before this crumble, You had actually managed to build a nice little family unit. We got to another crowning moment for Your son and You followed through on call. Showing up, beaming like a chess cat. Your son did it again. Being chosen from his peers to be The Master of Ceremonies, fancy words for Host, LMFAO, for his school business program awards ceremony. Being part of the class and the student chosen to host this show was magnanimous. You would never miss this, but when I was selected as Student of the Year for this same class program, You missed. Smaller and more intimate, but more impactful. Recognized at the local/regional level again. Money given, thankful that my mother got her shine that day. But today, oh that’s big-time day, You need Your shine. Your son is the one controlling the mike. You showed Your ass like only You can. And me, well I showed out like only I can. That day, a perfect match for You. Danger awaited though, and You failed to be a Father to me. Now we’ve managed to get past the fuck shit You did, and the family unit is coming back together. No thanks to You but You didn’t torpedo it, so credit given to You there. You actually became a functional Father for the first time towards the end of my high school career. You saw me accomplish things small and large. You allowed Yourself to be present for a while. I could see why people found it so easy to gravitate towards You. When You were put together, You had an attractive package to offer. You knew popular culture to an extent, You tried to maintain Your relevance. You made the room slightly more comfortable with Your quick wit and intellect. The family units began to blend better together. Both sides of my family connected and connecting. But again, warning ahead, lightening yet to strike, and it would eventually yield the death blow.
Understand that when I graduated high school, I gained an appreciation for You that I didn’t have before. Because some things had happened to You along the way, and You preserved. You finally learned to step up to the plate and lead Your family. But, You had no idea what was really lurking under the surface. Your prized son is gay. He has always liked boys. Been touching, playing, feeling, fucking on them since he was a child. Numerous childhood friends know about the interactions because they were the first ones, of course. There was a particular interaction in middle school that I’ve never forgotten. That’s fuckin crazy right?? Middle school nigga. Do You know how far back that is for any of yall? Whew??!! But I remember like it happened yesterday. Standing in the classroom of my first period teacher. All the crew came in our class every morning because class starts. She’s the fun, relatable teacher and this is the fun period, the first of them. But, my longtime friend came in the class, unknowingly to me, was right behind me. The lights in the classroom were turned out, and he whispered in my ear, “Stand still let me do this, don’t tell nobody about this.” I’ve never forgotten those words, or the person who said them to me. When he did, I knew at that moment, I’ve always been watched. And by the most unexpecting people.
How would You handle all of this, when it comes out? Like a fucking BITCH. The proudest I ever saw You was my Senior Prom and after I wrecked my car. Senior Prom because I took a childhood friend, who was all grown up, like me, to Prom. Oh, we were a beautiful match. Baby girl was so beautiful. Naturally beautiful and the most radiant, comfortable smile. It was definitely saucy with me and her. You ate that shit up. Helping me get ready, giving me Your SUV for the night. Nigga You never did any of this shit to this level before. Everyone who saw us together saw the potential. None of yall understood we played for the same team. She really likes women and I really like men. Loving each other nonetheless. Having a few dates but realizing the truth and loving our friendship that much more, however strained it may be. The other was after I wrecked my car, because the reason was acceptable for You. I had a girl friend who was younger than me, and I was keeping her under wraps from just yall for months. LOL. She was fine too. Tall, dark, slim, ran track. She definitely was a baddie, real shit. LOL. When You found that out, ohhhh, yo Bitch made ass was thrilled. She came to my going away cookout and the WHOLE family ate that shit up. Both sides loving the fact that a leading lady was in the life of the family Golden child. First to go to a major institution outside of Va. And then continuing the legacy of my older cousin, who graduated from an HBCU. I upped the bar though, Morehouse College. But the bottom came hard, and You disappeared faster than the bottom fell. The girl from high school didn’t make it, the baby scare didn’t materialize, but I found a college sweetheart. I had two options I could take. One would be going the traditional way. Every Morehouse man hopes to find himself a Spelman woman. That’s the old saying around campus. And I had one on my hip out the gate, but I had a CAU chick too. And she was pretty dope, so I chose her. When You found out that I dated in college already and it was her. Your pride showed then too. She had resemblances to my mother. A former high school cheerleader, pretty, caramel girl. That’s the last time You were a Father to me. That was the last time You truly accepted me for me.
During my first summer vacation after starting college, I got tired of hiding and lying. I wanted to live in the authentic truth of myself. I began to explore that while I was in Atlanta, at Morehouse. Talking to beautiful, Black, gay men. Never engaging, always scared of being caught or outed, at the time. But loving the conversations and the intensity of potentially being caught. Now, I’m home on vacation and the itch is still there. I need to scratch it and why not do it here. Safer, and I probably will know some of them. Turns out, I did know a few, LOL. My coming out was the end of us. The family unit ravaged, the Father humiliated and destroyed. My mother torn between her duty to be a wife, by the side of her husband, and her natural, nature instincts as a mother, sworn to protect her child at all costs. In the beginning, siding with You, to Your delight, but ultimately growing, and understanding that her son was nobody’s mistake, accident, embarrassment or outcast. You, however, fell in line with the dumb bitches on Your side of the family, and behaved like the insulant adult that You always were. While everyone else around You evolved, accepting their nephew, brother, son, cousin, uncle as being an openly gay man. You sat there and showed the nastiest part of Your ass possible. Never realizing, Bitch, You have two gay sons! You always have! I been knew Your other son was queer. We talked about it so many times during my late teenage years. Yup, I’m gay and You lost Your shit. My Father, closed himself off in his room anytime my boyfriend came over. You didn’t eat dinner with the family, and my mother was left to look stupid as fuck because she has to explain Your grown ass Bitch man behavior. You didn’t care that You were a Father and Your son needed Your support. This was You. How embarrassed You felt because You have a son who likes to suck dick, get his dick sucked, fuck butt and get his butt fucked, by men.
For years You acted as the petulant child that I was supposed to be. My mother continually forcing You and Your “I am Religious” family to accept her son as he is. Not understanding that, a few of them at the table rock the rainbow, just like me… LOL. OOpps!! Consistency didn’t matter to You. Same man for three years and You didn’t care. It wasn’t a woman. NO titties, no pussy, no grand kids with Your name. The name whose name I was given, three years after my birth, didn’t want to be associated with me. Forced to interact with me or do things for me, because my mother or my grams got in yo ass. Sad and pathetic. Every time momma came to see me, You would take vacation and stay up there. Being the Bitch ass man that You are. What kind of Father doesn’t go support his hardworking, successful son? You have never, ever seen any place I’ve ever called home. And yet You live freely, comfortably, ably, every day of Your life. Never once trying to understand who I am. Where I originate from. You didn’t/don’t care. You told my momma that she shouldn’t be focused on her son. That I shouldn’t be in her house. That You are supposed to be her only focus. When she told me this, I immediately drew sadness and sorrow before I drew anger and rage. Sadness and sorrow, because for a man who had recovered from having a massive heart attack, and having heart surgery, You sure were very selfish and dissociative from the life You helped create.
Years passed and never did You make or take a step to heal or rebuild. Despite the numerous times I reached my hand out to You, it was always returned empty. Despite me knowing that You were cheating on my momma when we first got the computer and internet. You would get on the computer in my room and join chat rooms. Lying that You were 35 or 40, and that You were single. Trying to hide it from me and her. Not knowing, that, again, I’m always watching You. You were my first role model. Disappointing as You were and are, those are undeniable facts. You killed that so many times. Which brings us to the moment that doomed You for life. When all the final steps were taken to remove You from Us. Take the lineage back from You. What should have been Your proudest and most exemplary moment, turned into the most tragic and damning.
The memorial service for Your first born. First act of betrayal, You entered the church and saw the two of us, and You ignored us as though we didn’t exist. Sitting two rows up. She gave You a pass because this was the memorial service for Your son. Emotions can be quite high at this point. But the final move was the death knell. Exiting the church, You stand there greeting the guests who attending. Smiling, and shaking hands, hugging and comforting. You too, wiping the occasional tear from the cracks of Your eyes. You see her, and You straighten up immediately. Smiling and acknowledging her first, as she is in front of me. Speaking to a guest to the right of me first, giving enough time, in his mind, for my momma to walk past, he looks directly into my face, connecting my eyes and doesn’t utter a word. Doesn’t acknowledge my presence, except for the smallest tip of his hat, before moving on to the next guest. My momma had stopped to wait for me and saw the whole thing with her own eyes. When we got to the car, she asked me did You speak to me? Of course, I told her the truth that You didn’t and that was the domino that sealed Your fate. That sparked the changes in history that are forever etched. Losing Your right to claim that You have a piece of history. I entered under You, I exited separate from, detached from You, not my Father’s name sake, but My own.
What makes the situation worse, is that when my brother passed, You lied to my sister about having my phone number so I could be informed. She went out on faith, hoping that I had the same number she last had, which I do. LOL. We talked and she told me the truth. WOW, nearly 20 years later and You still have the same vitriol in Your heart that You would attempt to deny me knowing that blood family died. Yeah, some Father You are. That’s how I got to be here today. I really don’t have any male role models that helped grow me, shape me, mold me, develop me. My first ever boyfriend. That man did so much for me. He was the one that I drew so much from in my teenage/early 20’s years. From all the years of all those examples, watching tv, talking to friends, peers, classmates, teachers, and professors, I learned and developed myself into the Father that my kids have seen. I have a love for them that I can’t explain. They are beautiful people that I have had to learn how to be the present Father they need at each part of their journey. Being able to relate to Your sons is invaluable. What a Father gives to his son is something that can’t be quantified.
You have to be disciplined enough to not do when Your child wants You to do. They feel that they need You to do. There are times when You learn that always doing never allows them to grow to become doers. Loving enough to know when to back off. When to comfort and secure. Go reaffirm and substantiate them. So often we miss that mark. Always willing to be critical of someone, but not quick enough to give praise, reassurance, and comfort. Affirm Your children, they need to know that there’s support for them. Admitting to Your mistakes and wrongs. It’s okay to say I was wrong. It’s okay to admit that You have emotions You can become emotionally unstable. Admitting that You enjoy sex and have strong sexual drives. Being willing to share Your life and the story of Your life with Your son. They need that relatability. They need to feel comfortable to be themselves and talk honestly. Always thinking about how they’re feeling and coping with life and the obstacles that it throws. Never letting them get too far away from You. Always willing to give them space to grow and evolve. Allow them to develop so they can appreciate the lessons taught through silence and absence. Understand that a present Father can also step back, not to be uninvolved, but to disengage to allow You to learn and understand and experience Yourself. Actively present Fathers try to be Superman all the time, until they realize that they will need to be Jefferson Pierce, Black Lightning reference.
It doesn’t mean we don’t make mistakes or realize that we could’ve done things different or better. It’s that we accept that we fucked up. Not because I wanted to, but because either I didn’t know, or I thought I knew, and there was another, possibly better, way to address things. Love is about compassion for those moments as well. I’ve made sure to teach my sons that lesson. It’s hard to do but it must be done. Confidence and knowing how and when to find it. Understanding the next phases of life. Understanding money management, social engagement, financial discipline and literacy. The importance of having a strong reputation and legit face card. Always willing to stare down the truth good, bad, and fucking ugly. Live unapologetically and genuinely. Accept only which You desire to, and don’t let down keep You down. Be resilient.
If You know me, like for real know me, then You know who I am. You know the way I live my life and how I choose to live it. Thank You to every Man out there who has Fathered a child. You were responsible for the creation of so many brilliant and beautiful people. To ALL the Fathers who are and continue to be present in their kids’ lives, THANK YOU. To ALL the Fathers who made mistakes that took You away from Your kids, but You’ve made amends, and You are there, THANK YOU. Every Father who sacrifices his life for the freedoms given in this country, THANK YOU. I hope today someone remind You of just how special and loved You are! Again, HAPPY FATHERS DAY
thaweeklyt 