How it feels to be colored me.

When I am labeling myself, I think of me being strong because of some of the situations I struggled through in life. Growing up I did not have the perfect or even close to a good “father daughter” relationship. He was around but not really around. My dad was more like a fly on the wall, did not care about anyone or anything but himself, and did what he wanted to do, even if it hurt the ones closest to him. Some of the things he told me, made me realize that it was not true at all. The more I talked to my friends about it, the more I could brush his opinions off. I realized that everything he was saying to me he should have really been saying it to himself. Every time he would put me or another family member down he was really putting himself down. As I got older I realized anything he said did not matter to me or even bother me, and I could just ignore it. When I finally got old enough to decide if I still wanted him around in my life, I got up enough courage to tell him that I do not want anything to do with him, and that I wanted him to leave me alone and never talk to me again. The summer before I started high school was the last time I talked to my father, and from then on I feel like what I did that day I could take on anything.