What It's Like Being the Child of a Career Criminal

My name was supposed to be Marcus. At least that’s what my dad says it would've been had I been born a boy. The relief I feel about not being born a boy is incomparable. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with the name besides that it’s basic. At least give me a name that’s meaningful, something that will speak over my life. If I were born Marcus, the abandonment would’ve killed me. Who would’ve taught me how to be a responsible, educated black man in America while dad was locked away in prison? The relief I feel for Marcus’ nonexistence is beyond belief.

My fondest memories of my dad goes back to when I was five or six years old, when he was in prison. I vividly remember stealing a handful of cards from CVS, unbeknownst to my mom. I hid them in my jacket and as we were exiting, the alarm went off. I couldn't believe it, and neither could my mom. I wasn't a bad child so my mom’s approach with me was always from a mature standpoint. Even as a young child she said I had an old soul.

After explaining to her how I wanted to send my dad nice cards but had no money, she empathized with me and bought me two. I’ll never understand her heart, I guess, not until I have children of my own. Thinking back on my life, not a year has gone by when my dad wasn’t affiliated with the legal system. If he’s not in prison, he’s on probation; yet and still, he’s the only dad I’ll ever have.

Our relationship has been as up and down as his stability. And because of it, my trust in men has equally been a negative result in lieu of his absence. Birthdays and holidays as a child were spent looking forward to envelopes in the mail with extremely detailed drawings of colorful cartoon characters such as Minnie Mouse, Winnie the Pooh, and The Looney Tunes. I wonder what he had to trade for those intricate drawings.

“As a child, I never understood why he stayed in so much trouble. I felt as though there was a switch that he continuously turned on, that should have been just as easy to turn off.”

Even though my dad wasn’t present, I can’t say that all times were bad. I can recall him getting out of prison once and surprising me with my mom. When she brought him home, I was stunned and speechless but excited nonetheless. My dad was home! In that brief time, we had daddy/daughter time, which entailed movie dates, shooting hoops (our favorite), eating together (his favorite), and simply spending time together (my favorite). As a child, I never understood why he stayed in so much trouble. I felt as though there was a switch that he continuously turned on, that should have been just as easy to turn off. But with drugs, little did I know, some things just aren’t that easy to shake.

Throughout my 31 years of life, my dad has been in jail or prison at least 75 percent of the time. It’s so routine that when I haven’t heard from him in a while, I Google him to see which jail or prison he’s at, and almost every time he’s in the system. I should be him. Statistically, 1 in 9 black children have a parent in prison compared to 1 in 57 white children. With these numbers, the chances of success aren’t great; it seems as though young boys, like my father once was, are doomed from the start.

If I were born Marcus, I more than likely would have followed in my father’s footsteps. Another young, misguided black male fallen victim to the correction system. A felon. A product of my environment, with no real knowledge of the world. Entrapment of the mind, at it’s finest. I’m grateful to have been born a girl and to have strong, intelligent, and educated women as role models. The odds were still stacked against me, but my village was strong enough to keep me encouraged and inspired.

Which makes me think of my dad’s upbringing. As a child, he was left alone to fend for himself as his mother was an avid drug abuser (according to my grandmother), yet his recollection is the polar opposite. As he told me, she was a flight attendant, yet no one can validate his story. There’s no telling the things he saw and experienced as a young black boy. As children, we naturally mimic and idolize what’s in front of us, most likely our parents. So for his mother to be absent and on drugs, he grew up replicating that exact life.

The chances of him going a different route were highly unlikely. When my grandfather married my grandmother they took my dad in to live with them, as my dad’s mom was never home to take care of him. Because of his upbringing, I am empathetic to his lifestyle, to a degree. I will never agree with the hard drugs that he indulges in, yet I understand that most people take drugs to mask the pain. Although, with him, he creates fabrications in his mind until he believes them, which I often joke and credit him in part for my ability to be a creative writer.

My relationship with my dad is quite unorthodox and peculiar. Have you ever loved someone that you didn’t know? Ideally, you’re supposed to be close to your dad, yet my dad knows nothing about me. And what makes matters worse is when he tries to give me advice about things that he should’ve addressed when I was a teen. I mean come on sir, what good is a sex talk at 31? Are you kidding me? It’s as if his brain is stuck in a decade that I’ve surpassed.

The repetitive talks about him and my mom not being here forever are frustrating; don’t you think I am aware of how life works by now, sir? And please don’t get me started on the conversation about me being grown and how I should be able to provide for myself, after asking for a little help; the audacity when he hasn’t been there my entire life. If anything, he should jump at the opportunity to help me, especially with the crazy amount of times I’ve sent money to him in prison.

I guess time locked up in prison can make you selfish, or maybe he’s always been like that; I wouldn’t know, because just as he doesn’t know me, I don’t know him.

What I do know, however, is time reveals all. In 2014, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which surprised my mom and me because there were no known origins, or so we thought. After getting in contact with my dad, we were made aware that he was the origin but never talked about it. His response was, “The last thing I wanted to do was pass down [a mental illness] to my child.”

As if he had any control.

As for me, our tainted relationship has made dating and relationships quite interesting. I am extremely guarded with whom I allow in my space. Because of this, I’ve had one real boyfriend and a “situation-ship”. My trust in men, in general is so low, even though I give them a fair shot once they pass my initiation. Bottom line, I don’t play games, won’t settle, and if I see any signs of my dad in any man, I am completely done with him.

I’ve always wanted to be a daddy’s girl. I feel cheated. For all of the love I never received, for the example of how a man is supposed to treat a woman, and the bond from someone I share the same DNA with. Even when he upsets me from talking to me disrespectfully, and I stop talking to him for months, I still care.

Often times I am upset with myself for trying, mainly because I know the outcome, yet and still I keep coming back. After all, he’s my dad, the only one I’ll ever have. Despite many things, the love I have for him won’t fade. He is half the vessel of my origin, career criminal or not. So I’ll always be there, but at a distance, for my own sanity.

Learning to move forward is the best thing I’ve ever done. There’s no room for grudges or hate in the future. I learned that I’m stronger than I gave myself credit for, and that even though my dad was absent I am still an amazing human being.

If you have an absent parent, I encourage you to dig deep within yourself. Yes they are the origin, but you have the power to create your future. Surround yourself with people that genuinely love and care about you, and focus on the positive. I was blessed to have my amazing mom to fill in the gap. No, she couldn't fill the void of not having a dad, but she was there to guide me, encourage me, and most importantly believe in me.

I am the child of a career criminal, but I am also the child of a caregiver. Therefore my career holds no bounds, I am free to soar at my highest capacity!

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