Dear Dad,

A letter to my father

Dear Dad,

It’s finally hit me.

After 17 years of having you in my life, I’ve finally figured it out.

Why you did what you did. Why you kept me from going out at night, why you checked my phone every week, why you stopped me from meeting up with those kids.

Why you yelled at me for wearing crop-tops and short shorts, why you disagreed when I talked about boys, why you followed up with my school work.

Why you texted my teachers, asking about my progress. Why you yelled at me, why you threatened me, why you did what you did.

You were afraid.

Not for yourself, but for me. You’d heard stories about other teenaged girls who’d been taken away from their families, to be found dead the next month. You’d heard about teen girls who’d given birth at 13, at 14, at 15. You’d heard stories of girls who’d been raped, who’d been hurt, who’d been killed, and you wanted me safe.

You wanted me to live a safe childhood, a safe teenhood.

You wanted me to grow up innocent.

And I hated you for it.

I hated that you forced me to stay home when my friends stayed out ‘till Midnight partying. I hated that you never let me wear the latest fashions. I hated that you kept me away from the most popular boy…

… The same friends who’s party was ruined by college students bringing alchohol and getting them sick.

… The same clothes that would make me a target to pedos and wanderings hands.

… The same boy who raped his girlfriend.

You saved me, dad.

And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I will write this letter and never send it to you. Because I’m too proud.

But I got that from you.

I got my best from you. You gave me pride, stubbornness, joy, innocence, beauty. You gave me life.

You were the first man to love me.

And I hope you know I will always love you.

Always.

Love,

Your eldest daughter.