So, Who's Your Daddy?

Christy says…I grew up in the South and, in my family, the “N” word was commonly used. It didn’t matter that my family had black neighbors and black friends, the word was used often. Now let me clarify two things before you decide to take offense: 1) I know that just because people grow up in the South, that they don’t necessarily use the “N” word. But, growing up in the South as I did, I heard it from all types of people in all types of places. 2) I use the word “Black” to describe a person’s ethnicity (as opposed to African American) because I still don’t know if there is one description that is the politically correct one to use. So, I use the word that I am accustomed to using. (Feel free to educate me, with love please!)

Back to the story…I heard the word so often that I even used it on my sister once. My sister, Crystal, and I were waiting on the school bus to pick us up for high school one morning and I decided to call my sister a “N” lover. I’m sure I said it to get under her skin or to get back at her for some reason that I can’t recall now but I actually didn’t use the “N” word as a form of hate that day (yes, I do believe it is a very hate-full word). I did not feel the same way about black people that my parents did. I said it that day as I would have said something like, “you’re annoying me” or “go away” or any other phrase you would say to bug your little sister. (On a side note, I felt incredibly guilty after saying that to her but I didn’t apologize to her until I was about 20 years old.)

Crystal and Christy (1971)

When Crystal and I were growing up, I always felt that she and my mom shared a special connection that I didn’t have with my mom. I didn’t know what that bond was but I knew it existed. My mom just seemed to be more tender with my sister or more protective…I couldn’t really describe it, it was just something I felt. When I was 22 or 23, my mom and I had a discussion about Crystal and my mom made a comment that made me think that Crystal and I may not have the same father. I said, “You mean we don’t have the same daddy?” but she refused to answer. Of course, her silence answered my question. I was in shock. I didn’t know what to think but as I began mulling it over, I concluded that this must be the bond they shared. I began to believe that Crystal must have known that she had a different daddy but never told me. So, one day I decided to ask my sister about it. I guess I wanted to know why my sister kept it from me and I wanted to know who this guy was.

When I was 23 and my sister was 21, I decided it was time to ask my sister about the secret she and my mom were keeping from me.  I picked her up from work one day, we had some brief small talk, and then I asked…ever so nonchalantly…”So, who’s your daddy?” My sister looked at me with confusion and asked, “What?”

I quickly tried to think of a way to use that joke, you know the one…”who’s your daddy?” I couldn’t come up with a punch line fast enough. My mind was reeling. I tried desperately to come up with some way to get out of the mess I had just created as I realized that the secret that I thought my sister and mom shared had not actually been shared with my sister. I was horrified! I just looked at her and tried in some way to slurp those words right back into my mouth or dial the time travel machine back just two minutes. When I couldn’t change what I said or make it into a joke, I had to explain to her why I asked such a crazy question.

She and I had a wonderful conversation that day and we began to understand so many things. Well, for one, it explained why we look absolutely nothing alike! When you come from a family like ours, it makes sense that the “Indian” gene is more predominant in only ONE family member. (Yes, that’s what we were made to believe! And, we do have a great, great grandmother who was “full blooded” American Indian).

We decided to ask our mom about it when we got home. It was going to be an interesting conversation.

So, we went home, told our mom we wanted to talk to her and then asked if we had different dads. She looked shocked, she took some time to think, and she looked like she was under some serious duress. Watching her, I began to think that maybe she had been raped or maybe she had had an affair with a family member...it must have been something awful considering the tormented look on her face (Crystal later told me she had the same thought). Then, my mom looked at us and with a very serious, very pained, near-tears expression, and said, “He's black."  Keep in mind that the woman who just said "he's black" used the “N” word on a regular basis, who often said that “Martin Luther King was a trouble-makin’ “N,” and threatened to put Crystal in a private school because she dated “Ns.”

Crystal and I looked at each other for a very small moment, and then, simultaneously burst into…laughter! Yes, we laughed! We laughed at the hilarity of it all!  Why did we laugh? We found it funny that our mother had made SO many attempts over the years to keep us, especially Crystal, from dating black guys…and Crystal was half black…which meant my mother, ahem, dated a black guy. We laughed because this was such a huge secret for our mother, and Crystal and I didn’t even care that Crystal’s dad was a different person than we thought or even that he was black. None of it mattered to us. It just cracked us up! (Now you can see why we use the words "Twisted Sister" in the title of our blog!) It didn’t matter to us who her daddy was or who my daddy was, we were still the same sisters.

In the beginning of the conversation, our mother was 75% SURE that Crystal and I had the same dad but by the end of the conversation, I think she was down to 25% certainty. Even though she never moved from that 25% certainty, she eventually gave Crystal the name of the man who could be Crystal’s father and told her how she might find him. It turns out that our mother had a love affair with this man and became pregnant by him. Eventually the relationship ended and my mom never told him she was pregnant.

As of today, Crystal has now had 18 years with her wonderful father who did not know that she existed until she was 21 years old. (By the way, Crystal looks JUST like him!)

And, Crystal and I still laugh together on a regular basis!

Crystal says...Let me interject that she's dead on - what a world right? But I have to add that I never remembered this story until she apologized for the incident much later.

Then it came back.

It hurt, it stung.

But I described it to her later as something that passed because it was something I was used to. The hurt came only because it was from Christy aka my co-captain in our home version of "Survivor". And it was just ODD - coming form my sister who's best friend was gay and who introduced me to the Fat Boys and the Sugar Hill Gang.  Ah well she just had a momentary - completely temporary lapse from being my hero. The girl KNEW how to wear pink and how to make lipgloss an entry for the science fair! (Mine was microwaving turnip seeds) How can anyone stay mad at THAT???

I remember the boyfriends in my life being all makes and models, types and colors. I didn't see, value or judge by pigmentation and was REALLY confused that people did. The caramel colored god at the time was Shawn  - WHAT a cutie! (And he was probably more white than I was, who knows?)  He was a total sweetheart who's claim to fame was holding my hand in public where (I believe) my step dad saw and told Mama. What a narc. Anyway the love of my life in high school was a skinny white boy who stole my heart, took all of my time and eventually committed suicide.  Christy was there for me. And later when I fell in love with a Marine Sergeant from Kentucky and the whole mystery of my sire came out, Christy was there to laugh with me, be indignant with our mother and be glad that the parents I then found were fantastic.

In short what I've learned: pick the merde that matters, that's the stuff that lasts. :)