Surviving the Man Who Raised Me

The Man I Wish I Didn't Know

What do I know about my father?

Honestly, it’s a question I just considered because, in some ways, I don’t know him as well as one might think.

He was born in Curacao. Although he spent the first ten years speaking Dutch, he cannot speak it today. I find that fascinating.

He has ADHD and dyslexia, like me. I got mine from him.

He was depressed. Never satisfied with anything. A philanderer — but I don’t know much about that. I wish I did.

His version of reality—which he imposed on everyone else—sucks.

He has low self-esteem.

He’s very insecure.

He’s very worried about what other people think about him.

He’s riddled with shame.

My father is a coward—violent to his very core—with low empathy. He has no idea what real love is all about and thinks of himself as a failure. Yet, lots of people like him and look up to him.

He inherited land and owns a few apartments.

He’s a little bit racist. Perhaps he’s a lot racist, and I’m underestimating that. He once told my sister not to marry anyone “too…