DADDY ISSUES

I never thought I’d be the one writing about “daddy issues.”

For most of my life, I honestly didn’t understand the phrase. Growing up, it felt like none of us had fathers, so how could something be an issue if it was everybody’s reality?

In the words of Drake:

“Boohoo, sad story, Black American dad story.”

I brushed it off. I survived through it — or so I thought.

I never let not having a father define me.

I told myself it was normal.

And for a long time, I believed it.

But this year, on my father’s birthday, I felt called to tell the truth —

because truth has a way of waking you up whether you’re ready or not.

The Man I Believed Was My Father

For over thirty years, I believed James “Crow” Banks was my father.

I’m certain he died believing I thought the same.

And what sits heavy on my chest is that just hours before he died, we had one of the best conversations of our entire relationship.

He told me he remembered me as a little girl — always reading, always writing, always in my own world.

He told me he believed I’d write a book one day.

He didn’t know how much I needed that.

He didn’t know he was pushing me right back into myself.

What I didn’t know during that conversation — before the closeness, before the daily texts, before the healing — was that he wasn’t my biological father.

That discovery cracked something open in me I didn’t even know was there.

The Day Everything Shifted

I was thirty when I decided I deserved the truth.

Rumors had come up again — rumors I first heard as a child.

My mother had been raped right before she became pregnant with me, and I started to wonder if that was my story.

If I was the outcome.

If my life had started in a wound nobody wanted to look at.

Something in me refused to keep living in the dark.

So I picked up the phone.

Calling the man I barely spoke to a few times a year became one of the biggest moments of my life.

When he answered, he sounded proud.

Almost relieved.

Like he’d been waiting for this moment.

I asked him directly:

“Are you my father?”

Without hesitation, he said:

“I was there when you were born.

I was there when you took your first steps.

I was there for so many of your firsts.”

He apologized for not being the father he wished he had been.

And for the first time in my life, I felt seen.

I hung up feeling lighter, like something inside me could finally rest.

But healing is rarely that clean.

The Truth No One Prepared Me For

A conversation with my sister made my doubts come back.

My mind didn’t know what was real, but my body did.

So I called my mother again.

Her response was three words:

“Fucking Bobby Allen.”

Then she hung up.

Shock isn’t even the word.

I went straight to Facebook, found him instantly, sent a friend request, and he immediately messaged me:

“You must know the truth.”

That’s all I’ll share about that for now.

The Father Who Chose Me

What I will share is that my relationship with “Crow” changed instantly after that call.

We became close in a way we never had before.

This man — who wasn’t my father by blood — became a father to me in the most honest way possible.

He texted me every morning.

He called every week.

Sometimes more.

He wanted to talk.

He wanted connection.

He wanted to show up.

And for the first time, my inner child — the one who always hid in books, the one who survived more than she should’ve — finally felt tended to.

His presence became the doorway to my healing.

And his death forced me to sit with myself in ways I had been avoiding for years.

Grieving him felt like grieving every version of myself I never had the words for.

It was heavy.

But it was freeing.

It helped me catch up to myself — the self I had been running from, rising from, and rediscovering for decades.

What I Want You to Take From This

This isn’t just a story about my father.

It’s a story about truth — the kind that makes you stop running.

It’s about the weight we carry when the people we needed couldn’t show up for us.

It's about the stories we tell ourselves to survive.

And the questions we’re afraid to ask because we already know the answer will change everything.

My entire relationship with "Crow" changed because I asked one honest question.

Honesty creates space for honesty.

And meeting someone where they are allows them to finally meet you too.

Sometimes healing comes from accepting the relationship you do have instead of grieving the one you never got.

Sometimes the truth frees both people.

Sometimes the person who chose you in spirit is more impactful than the one who created you in blood.

A Weekly Reflection for You

If you’re reading this, ask yourself:

What honest question have I been too afraid to ask the people who raised me?And what would healing look like if I finally made space for that truth?

Let that sit with you this week — gently.

Truth doesn’t rush.

It reveals.

If this spoke to you…

You’re welcome to follow my weekly series:The Truth Shall Set You Free Blog — by Ci Notes

Where therapy meets storytelling.Where healing meets truth.Where you meet yourself again.