Father. A simple, six-letter word that can be defined as “a male parent.” But a male parent is merely a biological category. A father is much more than just a male parent. A father is supposed to protect you. He is supposed to give you hugs, spend time with you, and teach you. A father is supposed to love you unconditionally.

My male parent was supposed to be my father too. He was supposed to support me during all of my middle school volleyball games and high school choir concerts. He was supposed to teach me how to ride a bike and throw a baseball. Instead, my male parent chose to blame me for his marital issues. He prioritized his new stepdaughters over me and always handed me the short straw. My “father” chose to love me only conditionally.
I distinctly remember one time when my mom dropped me off at a run-down gas station, where my father was supposed to pick me up for the weekend. He was late. It was not his lack of timeliness that shook me, but the look on his face that made my insides twist and climb up into my throat. With dread in his eyes and his mouth drawn downward, I could tell that he didn't want to be with me. He didn't want me intruding on time with his stepdaughters or ruining his Sunday football party. It was at this moment that I knew. I knew that my father was no longer there to protect me, he was no longer there to support me, give me hugs, or teach me the ways of life. It was at this moment that I realized my father was only my male parent.