2011 DMV Awards: Coonstastically Coonerific! Pt2

        So if you read my other blog post 2011 DMV Awards: Coonstastically Coonerific! Pt1 [<~Click here to read] then you already know what happened, but you don’t know how I feel about it.

        Outside of me being pissed that i took the time to prepare for the event, that they didn’t have a place for me to sit, and that I didn’t get to perform ….partially due to the fact that I was running for my life….I was soooo embarrassed! I know this shouldnt be a white black thing, so I will make it a white , black, nigger thing. When I walked into the hotel I was praying that there was no one from my job within a 50 mile radius of this place. Judging by the attire and attitude of people hovering around the entrance this was not the crowd that I would ever be caught dead with. Call it judgement but later activities would prove me correct. There was a veterans seminar going on upstairs and there was a sea of elderly white people dangling over the balconies to catch a glimpse of all the ill-dressed “coloreds” with the cameras flashing and red carpet affairs. One friend even told me that an elderly white woman told him that she was happy that the “next generation was doing something so positive”.  Another gentleman was over heard saying, ” …looks like good, clean fun.” This is what an on-looker thought of the 1,500+ people who showed up to supposedly celebrate one another.

        I was outraged that even from the jump things were not done properly. Black people, we have GOT to raise our standards up higher than what we continue to allow to occur. The line for the registration was at the bottom of the escalators and could have been around the corner where the “pat down” was located. There weren’t any efforts to place proper signage to alert the people as to which line to get in for wrist bands, etc. And if I were to go back, there should have been a dress code for the award show. It should have been church or temple attire to enter this event. Something about wearing different clothes will make you act better for just a little while longer. I felt like I was walking down the streets of Southeast DC, not that I would…..and not that everyone is Southeast is horrible….but it certainly didn’t feel like an award show. EVERY man should have a suit. Call me stuck up if you want, but that should be a goal for every man to save up to buy at least one suit. And this award show would have been the proper place to wear it. Hell, slacks and a button up would have sufficed…anything but the street attire that allowed street activities to occur.

       There was a taste of greed in the atmosphere as well. There were more people in that room than what that space would/should have allowed. I heard that the tables were sold for $500 a pop. Now I am all for making a profit, but fundraise, get sponsors, something! There were too many people walking between the tables than sitting to watch the show. The atmosphere was more on profits than true performance and celebration. I wouldn’t have started the show until everyone was seated and made to respect what the event was about in the first place. This is why people get to behave so poorly at events like this and then come uptown to my event and get their feelings hurt when I show their asses how to properly behave. This shit has GOT to stop.

       The program, aside from misspelled words and names of invited performers, was more about advertisement than to direct and guide the show. Now I know that is where the sponsors go, but how was the show suppose to be ran? Someone could have easily taken a church program and used that outline. I didn’t know which performer I would have gone after or which category I may have performed after. It was all so disorganized.

        But at the root of it all….I had to ask myself if these were my people. The answer, no. My people don’t do things like this. My people know how to act when at home but especially when out in public amongst mixed company. MY people respect one another and even when they disagree they do so in a contained manner. No one should ever know the disagreements that occur inside of one’s house. I finally understood why people who leave the hood sometimes choose to never look back. For once I saw it. I understood the motive behind their actions. I didn’t want to be associated with these people. I wanted to find all footage that had me on it and burn it. I was ashamed to be the same shade of skin as these people.

        I was ashamed that black men felt the need to assert their “manhood” by beating someone up. I couldn’t believe my eyes at the sea of innocent people who were hurt because they thought that being a man meant to jump another person who looked just like them. Looking over the banister of the second tier, I couldn’t tell who the victim was, who the help was, or who the fighters were; THEY ALL LOOKED ALIKE! They looked alike, they looked alike, GOT DAMN IT NIGGAS, YOU ALL LOOKED ALIKE!!! The only thing that separated you was where you resided, who your friends were and that you had different mamas, but I be damned if someone told me that they could tell the difference between these males.

        I am sitting here in my office fighting back tears. I saw older ladies get hit , females being tossed to the floor and thrown on tables to be moved out of the way. I saw a black teen come out of the hotel and film a girl’s mother crying and laughed because he thought it was funny. How is THAT being a man? How is THAT showing pride in who you are and where you come from?How did any of that make sense? The aftermath damn near resembled an earthquake or natural disaster. Broken tables, bottles shatter, chairs turned over, articles of clothing left behind and in pieces….this is something that one should never have to see; something that one should never do to YOUR OWN PEOPLE!

       And maybe I just don’t get it, the hood mentality, but the truth of the matter is…. I don’t want to get it. NOTHING is ever that bad that you have to physically fight to prove your point. I know what it feels like to want to pin a bitch to the wall for talking out the side of her high-yella mouth and trying you…trust me, I do. But I also know what it feels like to refrain because I had nothing to prove to her. Me stomping her ass was a given. Everyone knew I would win that fight and I would come out looking like a bully rather than a strong woman who put this bitch in her place. I know what it feels like to be ostracized by those who claim loyalty to her and her lies in the shadow of something that only she and I know occurred. I know how it feels.Trust me, I know how it feels to have some one verbally come at you and you just stand there and take it. I’ve been disrespected before in a ballroom full of people. And you better believe that my first instinct was to SLICE THIS BITCH UP! But his own actions , my knowing I did no wrong, somehow was enough for me to leave it alone. I even changed my opening speech from “Taalam Acey said it best, there’s a market for niggas” just because I didn’t want people to think that I said it specifically for that nut. It hurt, yes it did. To be attacked whether someone felt I earned it or not…it stung. But just as I could scream that there was a more tactful and respectful way for those dummies to handle themselves, there was a better way for me to handle myself….and I believe I took the higher road. Because when it is all said and done, my life moves on. So what he bumped into you…. your life will move on. So what he is from a different hood than you… so what! YOUR LIFE WILL MOVE ON!  YOUR LIFE WILL MOVE ON!!! None of what happened was worth what occurred.

       Call me stuck up if you want… I don’t give a FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! The only difference between me and these people are the fact that I KNOW BETTER. I had a hard childhood. I wasnt given shit. I literally/metaphorically fought my way through some situations. The difference is that I never once put myself or others in danger to assert myself. When you know better, you do better. So at what point did black people stop knowing better? At what point did beating each other become the norm? At what point did it become okay for people to be smiling and grinning and filming outside of these occurrences? Why wasnt anyone who wasnt hurt upset? Why weren’t they running to the police to nip everything in the bud?I just don’t get it.

       No one will want to come to this award next year, if there is a show next year. No place worth coming would want to host it after what happened this year. And some of these places will be weary to rent out their space to other black organizations looking to build a successful foundation all because these coons decided to act an ass. And no one is willing to tell who started the fight. No one is willing to speak. You better believe that if this effected ANYTHING that was near and dear to me… I would squeal. AND LOUD! I would point out people in the YouTube vids. I’d get the guy who stole the bottle of liquor and admitted to it. I’d slow down every tape and point out the performers who were just on stage before the fight broke out. Yes, your officer…the dude in all black with the locs throwing the chair is apart of the group named ( insert group here).  I’m not afraid to stand up for what is right. The sad thing is… I shouldnt have to be the only one.

P.S. You can tell the high-yella heffa & the nut I said it. I have already said it to them… so go ahead… be a nosey motherfucker and start something up. Its old news. You’ll be the main nigga that my blog was talking about… constantly trying to keep shit going. My opinions are just that. So nigga…..do you.

       Also, tune in tomorrow to read my blog 200 Men Said….Let aMan be a Man[<~Click here tomorrow]. Even though it deals with relationships…. how appropriate that it follows after this blog. It wasnt scheduled, but the universe works in mysterious ways.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*

2011 DMV Awards: Coonstastically Coonerific! Pt1

        You might have seen nigger before, but you aint NEEEEEEEEEEVER seen nigger like this! Yes, I said it.. and what!  What am I talking of, you ask? Well, that would be the 2011 DMV Awards. No, not the Department of Motor Vehicles, but the DC, Maryland, and Virginia Music Awards. TRUST ME when I tell y’all that the only way I could describe this event would be “Coontastically Coonerific”.  WARNING!!!!!!: This is a LONG ASS BLOG POST!

        Let me give you some back history. I was introduced to the coordinator of the event a month or two ago at an industry event party hosted by an amazing diva. I thought that this would be an amazing opportunity to bring poetry to a different demographic who may never travel to where I reside in order to be enlightened by Spoken Word. I even heard that there was a category for Best Spoken Word Artist. Now, this was news to me because I had never even HEARD of the DMV Awards before this moment. So how could there be an award for us when no one I knew was even aware that they were even NOMINATED? Yes, you read that correctly. My #1 ace called several people who were nominated in the poetry category and they were oblivious to the fact that they were even nominated. WTF? So was it a front? Who did they give the trophies to? Just…yeh. So after several conversations I got my big brother on the performance list as well because I thought that it would be good for this group to see a black male performing poetry as well. We were promised emails to give us performance details, when we would go on, directions, etc…..and we NEVER received them. This…..should have been a warning sign.

       So, word on the street to people who I had come in contact with had already warned me that the DMV Awards was full of niggery. After having asked the coordinator, and I quote, “What is the dress code? Is it DC Club trendy or BET Honors?” To which he replied, ” WOW. That’s your call. I’m going for the shock value.” WTF kind of Tom Foolery is that? After hearing that, I was prepared to walk into the prestige kingdom of Niggerdom. I had got my hair done the night before, picked out a mature and sophisticated outfit that would make me one of the few women with the most amount of clothes in the building.

        Upon walking up to the Hyatt-Regency of Crystal City, I could already tell we were in the right place due to the mounds of black people outside dressed in next to nothing. Yes, the fellas were in nothing more impressive than what appeared to be basement party dance-off gear and the females were dawning dresses made for an Uncle Luke video primed for BET Uncut. I am a straight woman who couldn’t take my eyes off the asses of these females whose dresses were inches from the cracks of their asses. I mean, here we were in 40 degree weather and these bitches were wearing Cooch Couture! Women of all ill shapes were set up by other ill-figured bitches. I saw more saggy breasts than a maternity ward at Jackson Hospital. I immediately knew that I wasnt suppose to be there do to the array of ass that was on display. Now having been a chronic sufferer of Donk Deficiency myself, I was a little out of my element…but I digress.

        The press was there in abundance, and so were the hoodrats trying to get their attention. I mean, nominees were taking red carpet picks with their make-up artists. WTF? Where they do that at? (Pardon the preposition ending, but you know what I mean). Judging by the looks of this Flava Flav colored woman dawning Golden Arches colored lipstick… I be damned if I would claim her as my make-up artist, yet alone have her in my red carpet photos. Yes, I had finally entered nigger activity.  But NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING prepared me for what would follow.

        Upon entering the ballroom, being pat down for weapons, twice, …..

       Sidebar: In the line to get pat down for weapons, a guy pulled out a WAD of $100 bills the size of a Double Quarter Pounder and placed them on the table because he was told to empty his pockets. Now, stereotypically…a guy dressed as poorly as he, white-tee, jeans, sneakers, sunglasses inside of a hotel at night-time, and unkempt facial hair and locs, one would suggest that he wasnt suppose to have that kind of money….legally. Secondly, nigga, we are at a hotel for an award show…why the fuck do you have that kind of money on your person? I was prepared to rob you my damn self.

        Now, I found a woman who was assisting with the show and asked where were the performers suppose to sit. Do you know that this woman had enough nerve to ask me if I had purchased a table? WTF!!!! Trick, I was invited to perform for YOUR SHOW, performers don’t purchase tables or seats. You reserve seats for your  performers and presenters and everyone else should purchase a seat. After temporarily sitting at a reserved table, I finally planted my ass in a chair that was propping open the ballroom doors and that is where God had intended me to sit for the remainder of my time there.

        One would think that this was more of a club atmosphere than an award show. People were constantly walking throughout the crowds no one was really paying any attention to anyone that was on stage and half of the winners weren’t even in the building to accept the award. See how helpful reserved seating would be? Niggers parading with bottles of champagne, logo tatted shirts, and drunk niggers galore were everywhere. There was no respect in the room. So the inevitable was bound to happen….and it did.

        After calling for an intermission, I saw people at the front of the room turn around and point to the back of the room. Now, as a black person, it is innate that if ONE person runs, you all run. So when I saw the finger point to the back of the room  my inner hood pounced into survival mode. I turned my head and saw a chair raise up and immediately land on this guy. I took off my 4 inch heels, hooked the corner and was out into the lobby running from the foolishness that was occurring just feet away from me. So apparently this fight broke out: (View at 1:32)

        Yes, THIS is what happened at an award show. Source Awards on repeat. At 3:29 you hear a hood chick proclaim how people were leaving their things and how she had on $100,00 worth of jewelry on. Say it with me now..>WTF?! Why would ANYONE in this place have on a hundred thousand dollars worth of jewelry on? They may have…but I doubt it.  And you immediately see a guy, ON CAMERA, admitting to stealling liquor out of the hotel after the fight broke out. Now I cant say this enough but WTF?!!!

       After the first 4 fights broke out I was in the lower lobby. I witnessed the employee worker get his face damn near ripped off, I saw him pass us with napkins dripping his blood across the lobby floor. HE WAS AN INNOCENT BYSTANDER!!! I saw an older woman who was a vendor sitting at her table get pushed and hit once. SHE WAS AN INNOCENT BYSTANDER!!!  There I was standing there, barefoot, in the lobby of a hotel with a sea of madness surrounding me and not knowing what to do next. I raced all the way upstairs and out of the hotel to be faced with Virginia Police Department decorated in riot gear. Nothing says game over like a VAPD pointing an AK 47 in your face telling you to keep it moving.  If there wasnt foolishness inside, there was bound to be some foolishness outside. This had “accidental police shooting” written all over it.

        We hopped back in my truck and we left with more than 25 police cars blocking any route back to the hotel. There was even a police SUV, a few streets over, with his lights off waiting to catch any more of the madness that may have trickled away from the hotel. What baffled me is the fact that 6, count them SIX, of the guys even recorded in this video in neon yellow shirts were covered in blood, ripped shirts, and bloody faces walked right out the front door of the hotel and passed by the cops. Now, if I were a snitch…. I would have brought attention to them. I would have said, these are the same motherfuckers who were JUST performing on the stage prior to the intermission. But I guess that would go against the hood code, right? Well damn it…. I aint from the hood.

        Read DMV AWARDS: Coonstastically Connerific Pt2 [<~Click here in a moment] to read my lessons learned through this.

       Also, tune in tomorrow to read my blog 200 Men Said….Let aMan be a Man[<~Click here tomorrow]. Even though it deals with relationships…. how appropriate that it follows after this blog. It wasnt scheduled, but the universe works in mysterious ways.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

*Click on Title and scroll down to read comments or to leave a comment.*~

The House My Father Built

       It occurred like a script unfolding in real life. It was as if I read God’s mind, wrote a blog & then He got jealous at my telepathic skills and decided to put me to the test. “How dare I pick up on God’s plan” is what this lesson was teaching me. How  dare I be so in tune with the powers that be that I set myself up in the cross hairs of this lesson’s aim. But here I stood, or laid rather. September 17th, 2010, just 9 days after I wrote a blog about being molested by my father……I wake up to a Facebook message of a woman telling me that she worked with my father and he was trying to find me.  *glass shatters* Fear riddled my body as if the Nazi party had ratted me out to the KKK for kissing a white man in Mississippi after running away from the plantation without my freedom papers. No amount of words could describe this experience.

        It had been almost 16 years since the last time I had set eyes on, heard from, or even smelled my biological father. It wasnt even anything that I missed. But here is was, invading my Blackberry and oozing into the privacy of my house. I closed the application just because I felt that it was giving too much information about my whereabouts. There I was… wrapped in my covers having not even stepped out of bed for the morning….and I was no longer the 29-year-old woman who I was supposed to be; I was now a 9-year-old crouched in the corner of the bed waiting for my father to turn the bedroom door knob after having smoked a Newport.

        How do you compete with that? How do you explain to yourself that the emotions you are feeling are validated yet you fight so hard not to experience them? Why was I on the brink of crying? Why was I feeling heavy all of a sudden? I was grown, right? I had done well for myself without him, right? He wasnt even on my radar. The last time , before the blog, that I had even thought of my father was when I was in high school searching obituaries just so that I could finally know that he had died. It was as much of a ritual for me as Muslims pray throughout the day. It was my sanctuary of revenge.  Housed inside of my facade of happiness hid the fear that he would one day find me.

        So from my bed, the first thing that came to mind was. I rent, so the house isn’t in my name. The phone is shared with my roommate and it isn’t in my name. Other than my taxes, only a hand-full of people know my exact location. I go by my stage name so that should people in Baltimore ever reference me in his presence, he wouldn’t even know that it was me. I never take the same route home or mode of transportation from and to different locations; I’ve become my own CIA agent. I have a google voice number so that no one can ever track me down and connect me directly. I know 4 escape routes out of my house just in case I need to flee. But why was it that….with all of this hiding, he still managed to find me . In my home. In my bed. Waking me from my sleep. I managed to still be exposed. This time, I couldn’t escape.

The correspondences with the coworker went as follows:

•  
  • Gina September 17 at 6:26am Report
  • 2Deep,
    My name is Gina and I work with your father. He has ask me to send you this message he would very much like to see you and sit down and talk. We are currently in Baltimore, Maryland. Please send me a message on what you would like to do. He knows that you don’t want to see him but he request that you at least give him a chance to explain. Thanks Gina
  • 2Deep September 17 at 6:29am
    Are you serious?!!!! How’d you even find me and where does he work/live? Etc. Let me think about it b/c I really don’t see what there could be to explain.

     
  • Gina  September 17 at 6:53am Report

    2Deep, he works at [employer], our number is 410-[###-###] not that I am pushing the issue just wanted to give you the number just in case after you think about it. Thanks for answering me, he does not have a computer

     
  • 2Deep September 17 at 6:55am

    I don’t mean to be rude, as this is not directed at you, but why is he looking for me now and does he know where I am? Is he dying? Because this sounds like a guilty man dying.

     
  • Gina  September 17 at 7:11am Report

    Believe me I understand and I know it is not directed at me. He was off yesterday and he came in this morning and said that a situation had come up and I guess someone told him to check on Facebook , in conversation I told him I had a Facebook account and that’s how he found you. He said that he has been looking for you, and it is important that he sees you. and no he is not dying. he just said to me it is important to him. I do not know the story nor am I trying to get in your business or his, but I understand your feelings because even though it may not be the same situation one of my family members did not see their child for years, and when they tried she did not want to see them. so I do understand. He just knows that you may be in Maryland, at least that’s what he said.

     
  • 2Deep September 17 at 7:13am

    Well, I will think about it. Thanks. Have a blessed day.

    Sent via Facebook Mobile

     
  • Gina  September 17 at 7:17am Report

    you too!!!

        Wow! What a way to start the day, huh? The sad part about it was… I put on a good front. I stood my ground and appeared sane. If only for a moment I felt proud of myself. I got up and took a shower, ate, and took over an hour to decide what I was going to wear to work, how was my hair suppose to be, and should I wear make-up. BAM! I caught myself. I caught myself making sure I was “perfect”. I hadn’t done this in years. My father, without even being in the same house, had managed to creep into my psyche and revert me back to the child who double checked everything before leaving my room. Part of it was to make sure that I was well covered so he wouldn’t be attracted to anything on me. The other half was so that I could cover up to the world just how worthless and ugly I felt from what was going on behind the walls of my house. It was dress up. And even though I still havent seen Tyler Perry’s interview, but have heard of it….. I dressed up to run away from the moments that weren’t so pretty. Everything could be dressed up. Everything could be made into make-believe and make-believe made real. And 16 years later, I stood in my house playing dress up for the day.  And I sat Indian style on the floor and cried. I made myself look in the mirror as I did this, made myself self say “fuck the time” as I was already late for work, and I cried.

I cried that the emotions I had dressed up had taken it  upon themselves to undress without my permission. They had chosen to come out of the closet and drape over my camouflage and force me to pay attention to the situation at hand. And I wasnt ready. I wasnt ready to go out on stage. I wasnt ready to speak the lines that were literally written on the page, but rather summarize the thesis. But curtain call was calling me to come and hold this situation’s hand and take a bow….the run on Broadway could end, but for some reason… I was a member of Cats and I identified myself with this long drawn out version of my existence. Who would I be if I didn’t have this as a crutch to fall back on when needed? Who would I be if I didn’t have this hatred in the back of my heart? Who am I?

So I got up, wiped the make-up from my face, pulled my hair back in a simple pony tail, and I went to work comfortably for the day. I was ready to be a big girl. Despite the walls that my father had helped me to build around my fears, around my self-worth, around my heart, I too knew how to handle a tool or two. And this act of defiance, this unwillingness to dress up on this day, shook the very foundation of my father’s house of cards that once seemed like Alcatraz wrapped around me. And a few days passed……

• 2Deep September 20 at 2:23pm

  Hello,

  I still havent decided on myself, but you could at least tell him that I passed his information on to my sister. She has been looking for him.

  I guess what is stalling my final decision would be.. what “situation” occurred that made him wish to look for me. If that cannot be answered on your part, I completely understand.

  I humbly appreciate your patience and understanding as well as your participation. God bless!
  ~2Deep

• Gina September 20 at 4:01pm Report
  2Deep I am at home now so first thing in the morning I will tell him about your message. We also looked for your sister on here as well and we did find a [My Sister’s Name] on here and I sent a friend request to the young lady but have not heard from her maybe she is not the right person or because she doesn’t know me she did not accept my request. I am sure he will want me to send a message to you in the morning but I don’t want to wake you in the morning so let me know what is a good time because I think that I may have woke you up the last time we spoke thru messaging. Thanks Gina
• 2Deep September 20 at 4:14pm
  I wake up around 6:30am every morning so I was just waking up last time. Yes, that is her and I have no clue if she still has an account here on FB, she an I are currently not speaking. Like Father, like child. Have a blessed evening.
• Gina  September 20 at 5:02pm Report
  YOU TOO!!
• Gina  September 21 at 9:15am Report
  2Deep,
  This is what he said to me. YOU ARE MY DAUGHTER AND I LOVE YOU AND WANT TO SEE YOU. When you decide to see me I will explain everything. that’s what he said to me. Gina
• 2Deep September 21 at 9:21am
  LMAO!!!!! Boy, I always wondered where I got my twisted humor from. Now, I see that I got it honest. Thanks for the message. I pray that you have a wonderful day. Mine is going beautifully. God bless!~2Deep

  Sent via Facebook Mobile
• Gina September 21 at 9:27am Report
  I am sorry if I sounded abrupt but that’s exactly how he said it to me.
  Gina
• 2Deep   September 21 at 9:36am
  Oh no, it’s NOT YOU. I heard his voice in my head when you said it. I believe that is exactly how he said it & that’s what makes it funny. Don’t mind me. Long story. Thanks again.

  Sent via Facebook Mobile
• Gina September 21 at 9:45am Report
  ok, no problem have a good one.
• 2Deep September 21 at 9:31p

        My sister, the one who would have a better shot at robbing Jesus of a Rolex & speaking to my father, said that she called the number you provided today around 4pm your time & no one answered. When is there a better time to call?I don’t know you, but I pray that this isn’t a prank,   for my sister’s sake. B/c this would kill her if she couldn’t actually get in contact w/ him. Thanks.

• Gina    September 22 at 6:40am Report
• 2Deep, this is not a joke!! I know your first name is [My Name] (spelling may be wrong) or at least that is what your father told me. He works 7 to 3:30 we close at 4:00 and believe me the girls in the office leave at 5 of. our answering machine does not come on until 5:00 pm
  she can call during th day at anytime. she did friend me and I am sure he will send a message. Thanks Gina
• 2Deep   September 22 at 6:43am
• Thanks so very much. I care more about her talking to her name sake than myself. My apologies if I sounded rude, I just have to play big sis and make sure that she isn’t being messed with. Have a blessed day.
• Sent via Facebook Mobile
• Gina September 22 at 6:48am Report
• I do not think you are being rude. Again I don’t know the whole story and of course what little I am hearing is one side. after working with your Dad for 4yrs I kind of know how he is, and after talking to you for just a few short days I can tell that you have grown into a fine young lady with or with out him. I can understand why you want to protect your family. Have a great day!!!
• 2Deep September 22 at 6:55am
• Wow! 4 years?! More power to you! I guess my curiosity only wants to know what he looks like. I don’t think that I am either emotionally or mentally prepared to hear much else at this time. Still praying on it. If I were to ever contact him I would have to feel safe & have all of my tracks covered. I am a secluded person, very secretive & private, & wish for not even friends to be able to find me or know where I live, all thanks to him. Been this way since my teens. So I will continue to pray about it & hope that he doesn’t feed my sister lies or false hopes. Thanks again for everything. God bless.
• Sent via Facebook Mobile
• Gina September 22 at 6:58am Report
• I hope he doesn’t feed either one of you lies and false hope. I will bring a camera in and take a picture and post it on my account for you. (if I can remember, I am old lol…) What ever your decision is I am just the messenger and I wish you well. I am sure we will talk again
• 2Deep    September 22 at 6:59am
• Thanks. God bless!

        Then one day, as if I wasnt moving on his time. I get a message that shook my defiance awake. It was as if this was a true test to my face! Bold, deliberate and outright disrespectful to my very being…to my existence. I woke up to a heading that read:  [2Deep], THIS IS A LETTER YOUR FATHER WROTE TO SEND YOU. HE ASK ME TO SEND IT THROUGH FACEBOOK,  and it read:

•  
  • Gina September 24 at 1:37pm Report
    [misspelled my name],
    It saddens me that you have to think about seeing your father. That tells me that the amount of poison that you have been fed has become lethal and my suffering will continue. On the other hand I am so very proud of you and your accomplishments!!!!! you appear to be a very beautiful young lady with a promising future. I will always love you and I look forward to the day that you can look pass my failures as a parent and try to start a new relationship with me..your father.

    (2Deep, I was hesitant to send this to you because I feel that it is not my place, but he asked because he has no way to contact you and he kept asking me. ) Gina

  • 2Deep  September 24 at 1:49pm
    Thank you so very much. If there is an address (US Postal) for him where I can reply, I’ll address/reply to him personally. Since he is playing victim & suffering from a bout w/ amnesia, I’ll remain on the borders of the real issues as well. Again, you are heaven-sent & your efforts are genuinely appreciated. God bless.~2Deep

    Sent via Facebook Mobile
  • 2Deep  September 24 at 2:09pm
    P.S. Please tell him to learn how to properly spell my name, if that wasn’t a typo.

        There it was. He didn’t take responsibility for anything. it was this mysterious “poison” that I was supposed to have been fed. I felt hurt all over again, but this time I decided to fight back. I fought the urge to cry, I wavered on what I should do… so I did what came naturally… I called my dad (godfather).

I mentioned it to my dad and my mother over heard the conversation. She said to me, “Forgive him, and then move on. Dont confuse forgiveness with reconciliation.”  And that was that. Again, my mother said the simplest thing and it made perfect sense. I didn’t have to sit in turmoil over what to do. I just had to respectfully forgive. I would never be as outright as Tyler and pay for his bills, etc. But I could at least respect his position of who he should have been and close this for myself. I still havent done it yet… but I plan to. I don’t know if I want to write a letter, or to call, or to see him in person just to close this out for myself. But one day soon… I will be free. 

I wonder what it will be like to live in a new house. A house where I won the keys, where my name is on all owner’s documents. Because living in this house that my father built has brought forth some bitter-sweet memories. I am thankful that I survived, but bitter that I had to endure the construction of these walls all in the same breath. Each day I build a foundation of courage to speak my mind , the wisdom to know what to say and if I should ask questions, the strength to walk away , the understanding to not feel guilty, and forgiveness to truly mean it for good. Forgiveness: Extreme Makeovers: Home Edition.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~