Dear Daddy,
After all these years, I'm glad that the secret is out in the open now. I know how much the truth (or the lie) hurts because it cuts me as deeply. Believe me. My existence just seemed so out of place, almost egregiously. I was lost, I couldn't stick to any identity, I didn't feel like I belonged, and I struggled to come to terms with myself. First I thought I was white, then I thought I was black passing for white. After Rodney's death, Daddy, I realized neither black nor white is my whole self. I'm Jewish, I'm mixed race, I'm a filmmaker, I'm my Mom's daughter, I'm Rodney's biological daughter, but I'm also my Daddy's girl. I have felt the pain of receiving disapproval from other people of my own identity. I know you are in a similar trap, knowing that your daughter does not share half of your genes and is not fully white or Jewish by blood.
But I just want you to know that I love you. In a way, I'm used to not falling into any clear category in the society, but nothing hurts me more than you denouncing me as your daughter. It's a paradox, I know. First I forced you to accept the fact that you aren't my biological father, then I want you to accept me as your daughter because Daddy is who you are in my heart.
I used to think I was passing for white. But being black almost seems like I'm severing myself from the family that I grew up with, which I hold so dear to my heart. Why is there a spectrum for blackness but not for whiteness? If the society does not include such a thing, I guess I'll have to create one for myself. My "whiteness," which includes my family (you, Mom, my cousin, and everybody), my childhood, and my Jewish heritage, simply cannot and should not be erased by being half-black. Genetically, my blackness and whiteness are even, aren't they?
I'm telling you all this, Daddy, because I'm trying to tell you just like how my races can coexist, your role as my father and your genetical disconnection from me can coexist too, if you let it. I've lost the picture-perfect family; I don't want to lose you too.
I love you, Daddy.
Love,
Lace