I AM a white woman who’s father was a racist

My father was a racist. Yes, I said it; my father was a small in stature, hot-headed, red-headed Irish man that was also a racist. It’s true, and I am so ashamed of him and his actions! I don’t know how to say this without sounding as if I hate my father, but I do. I hate my father, I have forgiven him, and don’t carry any pain from the past with him, but I hate him. I don’t use that word lightly; in fact, I don’t hate anyone but him. I hated his fear and hated his alcoholism because those were the causes of his evil thought processes and ultimate demise. Yes, that’s the feeling I have, anger towards the origins of my father’s psychosis. I always wondered what happened to him as a child that caused him to turn into such an evil person. I will never know.

Before I go any further, let me preface this by saying, I am not speaking of the beautiful white males that embrace all races in brotherhood; this is not about you! It’s best to clarify before moving forward, because this a super heavy topic, that I have anxiety sharing.

My upbringing was in a rough area of Dallas; I was one of the few white girls in the school. We were very poor, I was super tall, and my pants were always too short, my shoes had holes in them, I had an ugly short hair cut, I was tom-boy, I looked poor. Unfortunately, I was bullied a lot, head in the toilet, kind of bullying because I was the poor white girl. I knew how to protect myself; I was one of the only girls in the boys boxing team. I also learned to take quarters and stuff them in a sock; it becomes a great weapon. It was also essential to have a protector to walk me home, because getting my face rubbed into the grass daily while getting dry-humped through my pants by two boys was not ideal! I met a guy who was in middle school (I was in grade school) to walk me to and from school every day; he was my first boyfriend he was 5 years older and not that it matters to me, but to this story it does, he was hispanic. My survival instincts taught me to protect myself anyway that I could.

It pains me to say this but growing up my dad would call black/Africian American people the N-word my entire life. I honestly, feel sick talking about this, because I am trying to write this in least offensive, yet honest way. I am trying my best to share without offending. My father was a racist and spoke horribly about any race that was not white. It was just normal for my racist father and his friends to speak that way. Racial tension was always present if my father and I would be near anyone who was not white. I am sure you have witnessed a chihuahua that presents itself, and believes that it is a Mastiff. My father; had this perception of himself; he thought he was much bigger than he was; he was 5'6. He was super cocky, and would get in fights all the time at bars. How do I know this? Oh, I frequented them with him. Yes, lovely, like a beautiful after school special. My step-mother eventually became one of the top strippers, yes there is such a thing (lol) at a strip club in Dallas off of Harry Hines called the Belleme next to Charlie’s bar. We knew Charlie; he let me play pool and pinball. I remember looking at these women, because I would be hanging in the dressing room listening and watching. They would just complain about these guys that wouldn’t tip them, complaining all the time. I thought, and I was 11 at that time, I thought I am never going to be a stripper! I did NOT! I became the complete opposite of everything that my environment was attempting to create in me!

Random thought, but I am opening up to all my feelings as I write this. I think mixed babies are hands down the most beautiful babies in the world. I wish I would have been able to have given birth to a multiracial child. I think of that many times now that I am 53 and am done having children. I wish that I would have had that opportunity, a son, or just a son period, W, B, P, H, or whatever. I got screwed on that one by marrying someone who lied and said he wanted to have more children, but then, oh no, jokes on you after 14 years. I wanted to have a son so badly, but the Universe blessed me with 4 grandsons.

My father was a racist, and he was also a child and wife abuser and an alcoholic. He used his power over our entire family; we were tortured by his abuse to the point of it breaking us. I have already written my autobiography, and this story is out there (https://www.amazon.com/Am-Not-My-Story-Neither-ebook/dp/B00O2EC7JC), however, this morning, I just needed to write this portion again to remember why I am hurting so deeply right now after a police officer has needlessly murdered another black man! It’s just too close to home for me; it’s a deep pain, I know that I am not my father, I know that racism has been in my bubble, my life, my entire life.I just recently had an incident at work with racism and bullying. I am OVER IT!

I can’t stop crying, my heart hurts so deeply for our nation, for our consciousness. Why ARE WE STILL HERE? Why are we still having this issue? Until we can all come to a place of understanding that there is no need to be judgemental, racist, greedy, cause or inflict pain, if we give to one another in love, everyone will be at peace! There is too much greed and fear; I feel greed is creating the need for power. Lack consciousness causes anxiety; there truly is enough to go around if it was appropriately allocated, which requires radical governmental changes and leadership. I feel if all of the one-percenters took a portion of their money and started with the homeless communities and provided tiny houses, jobs, to end poverty, that would be a great start! Psychiatric care for anyone who needs it and free medication would help them maintain their new life, I feel the community would then thrive in peace. As long as the poor communities are kept to remain poor economically and have most of their fathers incarcerated, we’re only perpetuating the problem, not providing a solution. Prison can’t be a moneymaker! Because it is a money maker, it is causing unlawful arrests to gain revenue. We need to help the families come back together, allow the fathers to lead. Have the ability to do so by being provided opportunities to heal, have a job that pays more than minimum wage, counseling, and support, not be fearful of walking the streets getting beat down or arrested, and be forced to deal drugs to provide a living for his family!

I believe the fear of possibly being taken over by another race is so frightening to SOME of the white male race that they react in fearful ways. Deep down, I believe that some white males have this fear, or why would they be acting in anger? Fear FALSE EXPECTATION APPEARING REAL. Is it more comfortable to this category of male that the black males only stay in the sports arena? Is it more comfortable if they only get a certain standard of education, because if they become too intelligent, they could take their job? Does it make them more comfortable knowing that SOME police officers are racist also and support their beliefs? Do they ever wake up, put on a hoodie, and think, “I can’t wear this hoodie, I might get shot by the police”? Have they ever had to tell their son before he leaves every day of his life, if he gets pulled over while driving or just walking by a police officer, be super polite, keep your hands down, don’t move, don’t wear a hoodie? Again, let me clarify, so I don’t get my ass handed to me by someone offended by what I am writing, I am speaking of the percentage of white males that fit in this category of white males. I am talking about racist white supremacists! If you don’t fit in this category, I am not speaking about YOU.

In closing

Dear racist father,

When you told me repeatedly, don’t be with those N boys. It was too late, I had been with one, I had been with the H boy also, oh and the W girl too, and then a W boy, and back to a B-boy, and H girl or maybe a P boy. Maybe I held their hand, or loved them. I saw the soul of the person, of course, I saw the color of their skin, but I loved it! I love the colors of all of our skins, and I mostly like the colors blending when holding hands or making love, and I also love white with white. I just LOVE! Racist father, If you could read this, you would be crawling in your grave. But your grave got washed away when the hurricane hit New Orleans in the early 80's. Washed away, just like your fatherhood from the time I was 6.

You will never understand love because your heart was closed; it had a thick dark plate of steel that you wouldn’t allow the opening with light. You were so afraid of life in general that you cast your fear out in anger and hatred to others that looked different than you, or were smaller and weaker then you like my step-mom, my step-siblings, oh, and me, your daughter! How pathetically sad and embarrassing that you had to gain your power by putting someone else down verbally or worse physically. Power comes from love; power does not come from causing others pain. You were weak; you were an insecure small, scared white man that felt intimidated by the thought that another race could just possibly have intelligence, strength, and value in this world. I wish that instead of closing your heart, you could have embraced all races, so you could have also received the love you so clearly were starving for. Your choices only caused separation and caused pain. HURT PEOPLE, HURT PEOPLE. So, in the end, the person you hurt the most is YOU. Racist father, you got your karma, I can rest, your death came from a stranger that beat you to death, but you, sir, caused your demise with your evil actions!

In forgiveness,

Your white non-racist daughter