Growing up without a father, I never necessarily felt like anything was missing. I had deep love for my mother, my sisters, and my brothers. I could have gone my whole life not knowing him and I bet I’d be just fine.
I’d heard stories before about a man who’d helped breed my siblings but no image was ever present. The first time I was forced to interact with him was simply out of need. It quickly became an instant that I would never forget. My family was going through financial and emotional difficulties due to the unspoken illness my mom had been keeping from us. The only solution my mom knew to feed us, was to rekindle the relationship with the man who fathered some of her children.
“I remember being told to get ready to go meet someone. Riding in the passenger’s seat, I waited for my mom to drive me to “the house of a man that HAS to give you money” and at that age, I wanted money so it became a tempting offer.”
As we made our way to where we would meet this man, I grew nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. My mom pulled up to a house and screamed out “TONY” as she honked several times. Out came a man: short, dark-skinned and hairy. He was definitely not what I had expected my dad to look like.
As he approached my window, my mother said, “esta es tu hija,” to which he responded, “esta no es mi hija, está fea y gorda,” to which I paused. I was confused as to how a father could feel that way about his child. I quickly responded with, “pues entonces asi si soy su hija, ya que usted esta igual.” I wanted to get out of there, I never wanted to see him again but my mom wouldn’t drive away until he gave me money.
After my first time meeting him, our relationship was filled with uncomfortable encounters. I knew we needed money and I knew my mom would make me interact with him, but every single time it just got worse. Sometimes he’d pick me and my sister’s up during the weekend. I’d bring my favorite niece along so I wouldn’t feel so out of place.
“The more I got to know him and his family the more my anger for him grew. This eventually developed into people saying I had daddy issues, but I didn’t have an issue with him being my dad. What I had an issue with was his arrogance as a father and his inhumanity.”
The stories of the pain he brought the people I love always lingered in my mind when I was in his presence, always hoping he would redeem himself but he never did.
I could have gone my whole life not knowing him, and I would have been just fine. But it was the “getting to know him” that made me want to be everything he never thought I could be. It was because of his inhumanity that I’ve allowed myself to be human.
Storyteller Priscilla Montzerrat is a community organizer from San Diego, Ca. who graduated with a B.A. in Journalism and Chicanx Studies.
