I remember the first time I became aware that I hated my father. I had for years labored under the delusion that I loved him dearly and that I wanted to grow up to be 'just like him'. And sometimes I still forget myself and slip back into that familiar shell. The one that watches her father's face during a movie, a song, a speech—looking for clues on how she is supposed to act. That isn't me, but I still forget.

I was twelve when I first realized that all that 'love' in me for him, was really just hate masquerading as love. It's really quite amazing how similar those two emotions are. Love and hate. I loved him because he sacred me for so may years, and though I wouldn't understand it until much later on. I loved him to feel safe—even though I really hated him. I hated the way he would talk to me, the way it would me feel inadequate and small. I hated the way he would control everything—making me so afraid to make the wrong choice.

I hate most of how he shaped me. How he poured his hates and fears into me, until I was just a reflection of him. He was so proud of me. I was ashamed. I'm a lier by nature because of him, I don't want to be, but he did it to me. I watched him dupe unsuspecting people since infancy, and then as I grew older he expected me to act a long in his 'games' he called them. Never lies, we weren't allowed to say the word lier in our house.

I didn't have my first 'friend of color' until I was 18, because I was afraid. I had once began befriending a black girl in third grade and my father vehemently lectured me for it. Told me that black people were like crows, once you had once they just kept coming and you could never get rid of the 'infestation' I never forget his words. My African American friend is one of my dearest friends.

My father's own father is a man I've never met. I am told he was an evil man, I can not attest to whether or not this is true. I can however look at the product of this 'evil' man and understand that maybe the apple did not fall far from the tree.

My declaration is: I will not grow up to be like my Father. I will love my children, and they will not hate-love me. They will love me. I will not poison their minds against other races—creeds--religions--or sexual preferences.

My children will be who they are meant to be. I will love them unconditionally. I will not belittle them, frighten them, make them ashamed of them selves. I will become a wonderful person on the inside. I will love and trust in life.

I will be a better person then he is.