In my own words…
It’s funny how I’m
supposed to write something for my reading group. Here I am thinking, “What’s going to be?” I
have a lot of anger, too much inside my head, but a little knowledge on how to
present the ideas. It’s easy to say, hard to do…then this language and culture
barrier can be very tricky. I’m not
scared, though.
It's been years since the last time you landed your
hands on me. I still remember that day... it was a Friday afternoon in
Mayaguez, Puerto Rico. You arrived knocking on the door like I was one of
your suspects, and you were ready to make an arrest. Couple years later, I
understood that you guys tend to knock on the door that way every day, after I
started to date my girlfriend Ann. The irony…she is a cop just like you. You grabbed me by my neck and told me you’ll
kill me. I couldn't breathe for couple seconds, I got scared. In
the meanwhile mom just stood there... I think that hurts me even more that
day. Here is a big six foot tall, two
hundred sixty pounds man grabbing a five- four foot girl by the neck, pulling
her up and while he is pulling he is punching her at the same time. I’m trying to get your hands off me, but you
are too strong for me. Addition to that
you have police training that I don’t have at that time. Mom is not saying anything because we are all
scared of you. Just like I’m fearing for
my life at this moment, I know she is too, but she is powerless. She has been
her whole life, so how can she save me?
Don’t get me wrong! I love my mom to death, she is
My Everything.
At that
moment I’m asking myself what I did so bad that you come to my house and
threated my life. What I did to you to hate me so much. That hurt me forever
because at that point I was only nineteen years old. It’s been eleven years
since that incident, and I tried every day to forgive you, but I can’t forget,
and when I can’t forget and I think about it…sometimes in my darkest moments I wish
you’ve kill me that day.
Instead of “Hello”,
I only heard you say "You better break up with her". You were
furious, because I was dating a girl. You have always say you don't have
a "gay daughter", you have always been ashamed of myself. I
can't control my emotions, I can't change who I am. In my thirty years of
life, I have been nothing but obedient, responsible, a grown up when I was
actually a teenager. I heard how you talked about our cousins and uncles, so I
stayed out of trouble, no drugs, and no parties, nothing that a normal teenager
would do, because I wanted your approval. I served my Country for 8 years, and
while I did that I got hurt and couldn’t finish the 20 years like you wanted me
to do. I got medical discharged and to you that was a disappointment, but to me
it was hurtful, but not only because I couldn’t met your expectations, also
because every day when I look at myself in the mirror I see failure, even more
when I see my scars and even when I look at my knee.
I always
felt like I wasn’t good enough for you. I finished my bachelor degree while I
was in Active Duty. Now that I look
back, I did my major in Criminal Justice just like you did. I always do
things the right way, because I want to set an example for my brother and
sister, but in the back on my head I’m doing things because I want your
approval. I believe in GOD, I have a lot of faith, I have integrity,
and I have decent friends. I have always try to impress you, and today I
asked myself, “WHY IN THE HELL, DO I NEED YOUR APPROVAL?” I don't need
your OK. I don't need your partial love. I don't need you to be proud. I only
need to cut those chains that are holding me back, and that are getting the
best of me, and to tear them down and
love you for who you are, but I don’t need to live your life, because you
already have one. You are the reason of my anger, you are my trigger to this
feeling of rejection, failure and rage. Maybe one I will be able to forgive
you, and say “Is ok, Dad! It was tough love. Shit happens.”
One thing, I’m sure is that I will never be the
same, you have left wounds in my life, and you have scar me forever. Your
words are like knives, your hands are like blocks... You have damaged me
forever... I can only fix myself to the point I can make it all work again, but
I will never be new again.
I hate you, I love you, I miss you... You are my
dad, and I can only say I wish you the best, and if you ever decided to accept
me and hopefully understand that I'm still that same daughter God gave you 30
years ago, and understand that my sexuality is just a part of me, but who I am
is so much than just that, then I will be here waiting for you.
att. Dindy
