The Man Behind My Name

My father is a strong man. Yet, when I was younger he wasn’t tough enough to stay faithful, or solid enough to be present, not even sturdy enough to be drug-free, and definitely not robust enough to not be physically and verbally abusive. I believe that you have to fully understand a person in order to see the good in them (trust me, I am going somewhere with this). I don’t believe in making excuses for people because some things are just unacceptable! However, clarity is a powerful thing when coupled with understanding.

Ike is what he is affectionately called, and of course who I am named after. I proudly wear his name, but not from a lack of wrestling with understanding who he is. Ike didn’t go to college, his father had a 3rd grade education, his mother was totally blind, and both could be very mean. He   struggled to be a better version of his father, though Martin Luther King states, “nothing is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity”.  The reality is most individuals have been abused by one or both of their parents and not because their parents desired to be insolent, but for lack of understanding.

My father was absent most of my life and yes, I was angry about it at one time, but I owe it all to “clarity” coupled with complete self-awareness which has allowed me to forgive my father. My father like most men could have been any kind of father, man, individual he wanted to be, but he never could see how his behavior was hindering certain things in his life. Some people for whatever reason can’t seem to get out of their own way and he was one of those people. Ike was loving when he was present, funny, extremely hard-working, and a gentleman with old-fashion values. Nevertheless, he could never seem to be present enough to love my mom, or affirming in a way that cultivated a secure attachment.

I believe that as we mature in life, we must begin to understand the weight of who our parents are. Through doing my own self-work, I have come to appreciate the absence of my father and the journey to find meaning in embracing the fact that I was abandoned by a man who never felt secure. I am grateful for the gift of having an estranged father because through the journey of reconciliation, I found acceptance + my self-worth.