Monday, May 27, 2013

Stop Disrespecting Fathers!

Yo stop disrespecting fathers!

Lately, more then ever, I see the uncivilized talking down ‘fatherhood’. Speaking of it as if its something they understand as unnecessary. Shiiiiiiiiiit – you think you understand the gravity of this natural phenomenon which has created all around you? Do you comprehend the millions of each unique individual father currently living or better yet the billions of fathers that have come before us? Time to deal with reality: see you think a... father aren't necessary because your own father was a punk, your brainwashed and you got some ill daddy issues. Yours may have partook in the savage manners of these here wilderness – with the locked up mind; effeminized methodology; and evidently bore rotten fruit (you). Mine didn’t. I don’t. The men of my nation don’t. Too many good fathers out here for this said nonsense. As such I live out todays mathematics with a big shout out to my O.G. – my father – the original man – short brown skin brother who fathered the 7. I show that his lived understandings have influenced both mine and his own balanced mind which allows us to supremely build in a manner that heals and reinvigorates; rejuvenation of reaffirmation.

My father was the one that used to let me sleep on his belly, the one that would pick me up and toss me around when I was a kid, yelled sometimes but also sang to me; with me. He’d cook for with me, talk to me about ayurvedics and the healing power of foods (especially turmeric; ginger; and lentils…) He’d fight with me, then apologize by making me laugh. He’d drive me places I had to be, negotiate EVERYTHING with me, smack me upside my head when I was fresh and took us on vacations. He’d teach me to read and do math. He sat in many courtrooms waiting to bail me out; he’d teach me the difference between right and wrong. He’d tell me what a man does or does not do. He’s the one who drove me to the base the morning I left for boot camp and the one who picked me up at the airport when I came home a soldier. Drove me 4 hours upstate to my first college on the first day and left the car with me and took the greyhound home. He’s always held it down when I was down and out and even came to visit me in places where most would never dare come – not once but on the regular.

He talks to me for hours, listened to my crazy ideas during my early stages of awareness, and can’t forget all the times he had to drive me to the emergency room and those times he visit me at the hospital. From graduations to birthday parties as a kid, helping me financially over and over and over – matter a fact dad I could use a few bucks right now… lol! Helping me buy cars, laptops, tuitions: books!

We would have long talks in trying to figure out why my own family is falling apart. He tells me stories about his own father and his father’s father and how they worked through issues with their families. He babysits my daughter for me. I remember hearing my father singing off tune in the shower. He’d always remind me to quit smoking soon. Even though he’s skinny – his biceps were HUGE to me! I wanted be strong like that when I grew up. I remember the time when I snuck in 4am through my window to find him sleeping in my bed and another time I came home drunk – he slept on the floor next to my bed all night to make sure I was alright. I remember the poetry he would write. I remember him chasing me through the house to beat me and wouldn’t be able to catch me. He’s the man who came to my first custody hearing over my daughter. He’s the same man who sung at my wedding. He’s the man that held ice packs on me when I was hurt and took my temperature through the night when I was sick. He’s the one that would yell at me for not studying and would shut off the t.v. off before I knew what was and wasn’t good for me. He’s the one who took me to see Pretty Woman in the theaters not realizing it wasn’t appropriate for a 10 year old and then made us get up and go to the next theater to watch My Left Foot (I was so mad!)

He’s the man I heard people curse and say go back to your country. White men tried to bully for showing houses to Indian folk in white neighborhoods. Never showed any emotion about it to me – he just kept on with what he had to do. He’s the man the men came to late at night for advice. He’s the one that never bought in to religiosity and kept it 100% with me when we speak of such matters. I’m 34 years old and I just cried on the phone with him tonight – telling him how much it hurts not have my daughter live with me. He’s the one who told me everything is going to be alright and to stay positive as I deal with my reality.

So in as much you may think a father is not necessary – to me a father is ABSOLUTELY necessary – as such it always has been for me and still is my reality! The father is the sun; the knowledge; the foundation of both an individual family and civilization. I feel sad that you did not share in these type of experiences or had this kind of guidance however I did and this is my testimony to a father’s lived equality. Yet this is just the works of just one father, one original man, amongst the millions breathing; living; building with their children today. Peace.