My Father

I love my dad. I love the job that he did getting himself to America. I feel like he lived through more than most people could ever understand. He was a first generation Nigerian immigrant escaping genocide and civil war to find his way to America. GENOCIDE, and CIVIL WAR. Like at the same time.

Somedays I just wonder how vastly different he sees things based on the things he has seen.

My dad was ALWAYS around. I am grateful for that. I understand it is a priveledge. I remember having an amazing life with trips like Disneyworld, Paris, and London, all orchestrated by this man. I would always be experiencing the best things by his hand. To understand where he came from and see what he has accomplished humbles me.

He has two Masters degrees, multiple properties, and works for the law offices of the City of New York. He is an amazing picture of success.

As I grow as a man and see how your own standards of excellence can make you treat others, I am starting to understand how he treated me.

I never felt like my dad hated me. I've never felt like he didn't care or didn't want the best for me. I just feel like I've never made him proud. Maybe it's a product of not hearing the words. Maybe it's a product of me reading his energy. Either way, from good grades to bad. To making my first basketball team to becoming captain of one. I never felt like he felt I was a son to be proud of.

It has been an incredibly hard pill to swallow. It has made me go through a vast array of emotions.

Sometimes we can end up hating ourselves for someone else.

Questioning ourselves because we don't fit in to what they want.

Like I said before though, I love my dad.

Sometimes I think I may have been too sensitive all these years. Maybe what our relationship was is completely normal and I need to let it go. I always try to find out, but maybe I'll never know.

I remember him trying to teach me things. I mean really trying to teach me things. Somedays we would sit at the table and he would try for hours to explain a math problem to me. All I could remember was siting there nervous, as if my muscles were in an all inclusive clench. His tone would seem to gradually rise in this fed up manner. I felt like I was supposed to have already understood the answers to the questions I just asked him. Like when he gave me a line of thought, his thought was to be understood thoroughly. I would dare to ask another question based on his thought, and would be met with a louder repitition of the thought.

So you add the two numbers, 5 + 5 = 10

How did you do that dad?

SO YOU ADD THE TWO NUMBERS, FIVE PLUS FIVE IS TEN

Most of the time I just gave up. Most of the time I just accepted that I was smart every where else, and with him I was stupid. It was like everytime we interacted I left the conversation feeling a little less of myself. Whether it was math probems, bike lessons, or driving, the lesson would change but the energy would not.

You know when you are around someone and you can almost sense they have a pre-existing issue with you? Like that person seemingly deliberated in the mirror for hours on how much they don't fuck with you before getting around you.

I sometimes felt like an outcast in my own home, but only when he was around...

Approval is a funny thing.

It's one of those things that we receive and try our hardest to act like it doesn't matter. I never understood that. I know people strive to be indepenedent and not need eachother, but approval feels amazing. Like it feels really nice. Knowing someone else thinks highly of you can make or break your day. A simple "nice hair", "nice shoes", or nice anything can have you wearing that item with pride.

I don't feel like I was some starved child that didn't hear his share of approval. People obsessed over me. Parents would badger my parents to ensure their kid could have a play date with me because they wanted me to "rub off" on their child. (I experienced loads of super awkward playdates with kids that were NOT in my class.) I knew I was ok, but the fact that I felt my dad didn't think I was made me question if I was. I felt that I was longing for a "nice" anything and never received it. No matter how well I did. From positive parent teacher conferences to school pictures, I felt like I could have done nothing at all and received the same from him.

The thing is, I ran to him the most to show him my work. Any kind of work, hoping that this moment would be the moment he smiles because of me. 94% on a test and I'm sprinting home to him. I sprint home, rush up to see him, just to hear about the 6 points I missed. I would run up with my picture on picture day to hear about the flaw of my grin. I would run up with my trophies to hear about the flaw of my ambition.

Sometimes as men we are trained to show less emotion. Sometimes our lives themselves require us to feel less so we can survive. I don't know which excuse I should make for my dad, but I know what he thought mattered to me. It mattered a great deal and I felt I only heard the corrections and never the acceptance.

It's funny, who I am and what I look like now seems to be an accurate depiction of what he wouldn't approve of. Maybe it is directly in spite of him. Maybe it's who I am. Either way, I've never felt more me than I do now.

There was a moment I actually worked at the same office as he did. I got a job there thinking somehow, after all these years, this was the way to make him proud. Becoming him. After a short time, I quit the job after realizing it was making me hate my life.

I literally would throw tantrums daily in my

undersized

company

hybrid

Fully equipped with no radio

Abandoned with my thoughts as I contemplate stress. I told him I was losing myself and he told me "you have to do things you don't want to to make money." He then asked me of my plan for myself and told me it was foolish, in very him-like fashion.

What he has experienced has made his values different than mine could ever be. His life made it possible for me to live a life where how I feel can actually matter to me.

The child in me still gets me into situations that I have to leave behind for my own sanity. All in the name of still trying to make him proud. From my choice of college, to law school, to my choice of housing. It all came to a head last year when I had enough money to buy myself a car and told myself “no” because he didn't approve. (Update on that decision: I still currently walk everywhere in LA.)

Getting to this point has taught me that I may have been robbing myself of joy for an approval that may never come. I could starve for the rest of my life simply because I didn't realize I could eat. Seeking someone else's approval to validate you will leave you dependent on another to feel validated. No one deserves that power other than you. I've done some really amazing growing in this past year that has brought me to this point. I'm still the kid that wishes his dad would say he is proud of him. I'm also the man that understands that pride should start from within. I learned to no longer deny myself for him, and it is the greatest gift I could have received. I am living the life of my unapproved dreams. Thank you dad. For being you, and helping me be me. I love you.

All the foolish things that I pursured and attained that I was told not to:

- Basketball Player

- Business Owner

- Musician

- Artist

- Writer

- Husband

- Life Coach/Spiritual Guide

- Hollywood resident

- International Model

- International Actor

One day I will be as dope as my dad and own some properties, and maybe work for my city. For now, rather than just being grateful for everything I have, I am extremely grateful for everything that I am.