I Made Her Cry-A Father’s Truth

Tamyara Brown
3 min readJun 12, 2022
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I sat next to my daughter today on a park bench. Funny how I see her today is how I left her crying. The song from Emile Sande blared from her headphones called Clown. She held a picture of me and the man who married another instead of her. I hung my head because her sorrows penetrated my heart. Her tears were a reminder of the fact that I broke her heart first. That I abandon her for the next one. I broke her instead of molding her into a confident child, teen, and woman. It was my responsibility to set the tone. I didn’t wipe away her tears that day she begged me to stay. In fact, I told my little girl to woman up. I told her I couldn’t love her because she resembled her mother. I taught her she wasn’t worthy of love and an explanation. I would later discover that she believes she should accept it because from the gate I showed her she didn’t qualify. I am the blueprint of her pain no matter that she is an adult. I created the beginning of her chapter. I take full ownership of damaging my daughter before making her whole.

I didn’t kiss her goodbye, so I taught her from the gate that a man would always walk out of her life because she wasn’t enough. I left her with questions about the authenticity of love. I taught her she was last on my list and that she should embrace her position.

I have to eat the shit that I was not the best father. I never taught her she was a princess, so she devalued herself as an adult. I heard her the day she called my name and I wouldn’t answer. I remember the days I walked past her and never spoke. I taught her that being abandoned was acceptable. I was no better than that motherfucker who broke her heart because I did the same shit. I had guilt running through me of how I had to hear a man she called daddy rape her. Had I been a good father, that wouldn’t have happened. I didn’t rescue her that day because I was an absentee parent versus manning up to my responsibility. I taught her she was forever unprotected. The nights her mother couldn’t hold it together and left her hungry. I didn’t provide for her, so I taught her to settle for less. No matter the source, I was at fault, too. I never once bought her gifts. I missed her wins and wasn’t there for her losses.

I never once uttered I was proud of her. So she believed she was irrelevant. No matter her efforts, she would believe she was a…

Tamyara Brown

Tamyara is an author of eight novels, blogger, graphic and website designer. She is also the host of B.L.A.H Diaries.