Dear Mother and Father,

Many children want to know whether they were a mistake or not, so I ask you, was I? On the other hand, was I planned? Whatever the answer is, I want to take this time to reveal some of my thoughts.

Before you decided to birth me into your world I was content where I was. In the garden of my natural habitat I was safe from all evil. Before being subjected to the immoral mentalities and all the racial bigotry and violence that is running rapidly throughout this place you call life, I was hiding behind my strong tower.

Once conceived and supplanted within your womb mother, I could feel you and the things father was doing to you. You were a devise to him, used to further what he saw as a future. So you carried me those months within you sometimes even bitterly, like a ship crossing a fierce ocean, while father directed your ways and navigated your paths. You knew the thing he was doing was not all together right but you approved of them in his presence because it fulfilled the lust within you. A lust to walk highly recognized among the other queens of this life.

Yet, in those months, I felt the pains you felt, maybe even deeper within me because I was confined to a dark and restrained space. The only love I truly felt was from the distant cries of those whom I left behind. Your soul carried me. You were cold at night because father beat you. You were afraid and I was afraid because father would threaten you, I remember, I could feel you.

During the journey I experienced within you, I longed to either escape your womb back to my strong tower or to enter your world just to wrap my hands around father's neck and strangle him. But soon I realized that the abuse you took from him was a sinful pleasure to you, a dark fantasy that only you could dream of, ignorant to any other moods of the many souls around you.

Finally, I was born. The light I saw was dim, not like the light of where I came from. The moon was colder and used for another purpose other than what it was created to do. When I could barely look around the first thing I saw was your face. There was not a smile that greeted me, as I would have hoped, but a look of pity. Pity for me, why? because you knew what I would have to endure while here in your world.

Father looked at me with a look of greed, as if I would bring him riches and glory above all the other nations of the world. It was then I realized why I was here. Therefore, I withdrew from all around me in anger and resentment for you, mother, and father.

As I grew, I adjusted to your ways of life. My chores were sometimes too grievous to be borne and the rewards you gave me were nowhere near what I felt what your love for me was worth. You used me and yes, I brought you riches through what you trained me to do. You enhanced all my talents and sometimes I appreciate what you did for me, when I am sitting beside one of your friends or when I look down at some of the people that treated me bad when I was young. What you taught me helped me to rise above most of them. Still, I will never forget where I came from, or who brought me here. I will always long for that strong tower.

When I was grown, and it was time to set me free among the other poor souls of this life, you did not give to me what others had, those you adopted into our little intimate thing we had, no, you told me I would have to work hard and earn it for myself. You promised me an inheritance after I finished educating myself, but I never got it.

Sometimes I feel that you never intended to give me anything, at least not everything you had. After a while I started to see that your worth was far more than what you said I could amount to. You told me that if I worked hard enough I could someday have what you have, but, for some reason, I do not feel you ever wanted me to have what you have. If I did, then you know I could say that I learned something you never knew, or that, from what you have taught me I have perfected it.

It is hard, mother and father, to live in your world. All the people you have invited into our home are getting the benefits that you never gave to me. I cannot go into the dining room and eat at the fine table the way you let them. I cannot go into the backyard and sit beneath the big Oak Tree that you and father planted just for the times you wanted to, "get away."

You tell me that they have earned it because they know what this life is all about and that the things they, and you know I have not that knowledge naturally. You said I have my own talents and should use them accordingly. Well, I think what you are saying to me is that I am stupid or something. What kind of way is that to treat your child?

You birthed me into this world, you brought me here from my strong tower and you taught me everything I know. You molded my mind to think the way you do and to see things the way you see them. You influenced me to appreciate the things you appreciate and to enjoy the things you enjoy. You prepared a life for me. You gave me what to think and what to wear and what to eat.

I have adapted to all the things you are, mother and father. Now that I am grown, and am what you have conditioned me to be, it seems that you think that my demands are irrelevant. Like I do not know any better. You ignore my opinions and ideas, and those in which I submit to you that you did not think of, you take them and pass them off as your own.

You have been lying to your friends about me. You tell that I was a difficult child to handle and that the reason I have not developed like them and or you is because I was mildly retarded at birth, but you never tell them how I was abused as a child and you are so much indenial. So now, with this letter I am telling the world what really happened to me as a child.

The reason I am all that I am is because of you. I had an identity before, in the womb, but when I came here to your life, you molded me. Now you complain about the things I ask for. What ever happen to the concept of personal responsibility that you drilled into my head as a youth? Why do you not accept the responsibility that what I am, and the conditions and circumstances that I face some days, are only a reflection of how you raised me?

Why deny your own child? Why be ashamed of your own creation? Why stand in my face and say the things you have said to me, yes, I am revealing it all to the world. Not only did you physically abuse me, but you verbally abused me too. You called me worthless, and lazy, and shiftless, among other things, and your friends believe these lies.

Today, mother and father, I want to tell you that I do love you, regardless of our family history. I still love you even though you have withheld some of the good things in life from my knowledge for as long as you could. However, I want to tell you now that I am free from your grips, mother, and father. I know some things now about you that I never would have believed from any other.

I want to take this time to tell you that you should not fear me, for I am an image and reflection of you, but, I desire to return to my strong tower, therefore, I am writing you and telling you that I am leaving you. When I get home, I will pray for you because you have not yet discovered the knowledge that I have. You have not yet understood that your child has outgrown you and your theories about your own world. I have risen above it and have found refugee in the place where I was first at peace.

Bless you,
Your Child,

The Black Race

© 2003 by C.R. Hamilton