Sperm donor

“Until the lion writes his own story, the tale of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”

The Soy Autor writing process was developed in collaboration with young affected by violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated.Through the process of drafting, revising, illustrating and publishing memoirs, the Authors’ Circle participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie, and positive self-projection to create new life narratives.

In collaboration with:

Sperm Donor Waddell Adams

I wasn’t inspired by love to write this. Instead by pain. I didn’t want to write this or even consider the person this wriing is about, but thanks to a special person that wanted me to come out my shell, I was inspired.

This is what I have to share.

When I was growing up I had a loving family.

My mom, my sister and I stayed on the low end on the south side of the Chi.

In a three bedroom apartment on what I believe was the 2nd floor.

The building was called the Davis Builds, but everyone called them the “complex”.

We stayed there unnl we moved to “Moe-Town”.

We didn’t live with my father. I knew of Waddell Adams, but at the same me I didn’t really know him. I mean I knew he was my Momma’s sperm donor. But he was not a father at all to me.

We never spent me with one another. The only good memory that I have of him is showing me how to ride a bike and what not to do or say as a real FATHER. I have so many bad memories of him, but the one that stands out the most is when his brother came to see me.

I was about 8 years old when my uncle asked me when was the last me I saw my father. I told him that I don’t know. Then he asked me if I would like to go see him. With the biggest smile I said, “Yes!” So he said, “Let’s go ask your Mom.”

As I ran off screaming “Mom, Mom, Mom!” She came running to me, “What’s wrong? What happened?” Then she saw me smiling from ear to ear. I then said “Can I go with my uncle to see my Dad?” She looked at me and my uncle and he said “I was going to take him to see his Dad, if that is OK with you.”

I looked at my Mom, as she says, “Yes.” As I hugged my Mom bye, I got ready to go on the long trip to go see the man.

We rode on the bus to go see the man. It was crowded. People were standing up all over each other. As I maneuvered through the crowd, I found a seat and took it, all happy. Legs swinging as I sat. Then I realized there was a man on the bus that “ssnk.” I said that out loud, and everyone started laughing. I hopped down to make my way back through the crowd, my uncle grabbed me and said “What you said was wrong. You shouldn’t talk about other people, even if they do ssnk.”.

As the ride connnued I realize when people want to get off, I always hear a “bing.” I observed people pulling a string then hearing a bing sound and the bus driver stopping to acknowledge the request.

I started to pull the string just for the sound then laughing unnl I was told to stop. Finally we made it to our dessnaaon. We get o the bus and he was standing right there. I ran right into a hug. He tried to pick me up, but I was a liile on the heavy side.

He told me “You’re geeng big, son.” We walked and played all the way to his house, so I thought. I was excited to visit his home and spend me with him.

Then he shared some bad news. I heard my uncle and his brother talking.

My old man said “My woman is at the house and it wouldn’t be a good idea for us to go there with the lil one.” He suggested we go to the park. As we were walking, I asked the worst quesson of my life.

“Why don’t you call or come around to see me?” Then his answer hit me like a ton of bricks. “Because my girlfriend don’t want me to have nothing to do with you.”

I knew then he was leeng her keep me out of his life, I didn’t want nothing else to do with him or be in his life at all. I was ready to go back home. I told my uncle I was ready to go. At that minute I knew what type of father I wanted to be to my kids. And if a real woman couldn’t accept my kids, I don’t need to be with them.

As I was geeng on the bus I observed my uncle arguing with his brother. The bus driver asked me who I was with and wouldn’t pull off unnl my uncle made it back to the bus. It was a long ride back. Even though the bus was full, it felt like I was the only one on there.

I made it home and moms knew something was wrong with me.

She asked me, “What’s wrong? What happened?” I said, “Nothing, I’m good.” But, she didn’t believe me and kept asking unnl I told her. She ssll didn’t believe me. She said he wouldn’t say anything like that to you. Then she talked to my uncle who told her the same thing.

The full meaning of what he said didn’t hit me unnl I turned 12, which made me say, “Damn that was some bitch ass shit to say to a child.”

“Then a new quesson came, “What did I do to deserve this? Was it something I said or did to him to allow a woman to make him say fuck his child?”

As me went on, the streets gave me a sense of what I wanted, the sense of being a man. As I started to hug the streets they started to hug me back. Then I began to get in trouble with the law.

Years passed and I had a child of my own and knew I needed to change the way I was living. I wanted to be there for my child and do whatever I have to do to show her that I love her. I desired to do all I can to protect her and will always be there for her. No maaer what, I will always have her back. The pain my father caused me encouraged me to be dierent. It encouraged me to make strong bonds with my children.

Even if it comes down to doing things I don’t want to, like going to teacher meeengs or school plays or the park, whatever it is, I do it. I get up and go out of love and support. But in the end I love going on class trips with them, show up or take them to their games or praccces or going out to eat or the movies.

I love spending me with the liile stars, my children. Just being a part of their lives is the best feeling, a true happiness, my true blessing.

Remember that I love y’all and always will. Keep y’all head up and try to stay sucker free in a land full of lollipops.

From my experiences with my absent father this is what I learned. They are the children one father provided by our care and the breast of one mother when they are given to eat. Let the bonds of aeccon, therefore unite them with their brothers and sisters that peace and happiness dwell in the families house. And when we separate in the world, remember that relaaon that binds you to love and unity; and prefer not a stranger before their own blood. If you brother is in adversity, assist him. If your sister is in trouble do not forsake her. So shall the fortunes of one’s self contribute to tr support of the ennre family and the care be connnued to you in all your love to each other.

My kids have my blood running through their veins. If I were to neglect or disappoint or hurt any of them, I would know exactly how they would be feeling from my last memorable experience that I had with the Man I choose to call Sperm Donor. That is why I choose to teach love instead of hate, so they will know the dierence between Higher Self and Lower Self. So they will always crush the beast as they walk.

The End

I am from love, dedication and trust From dirty rice and shrimp pasta I am from the Low End to Moetown In Chicago, Illinois, Southside I am from the Loud, Kush, and Sativa plant Dreadlocks and cornrows I am from snowball fights and unique senses of humor I am from Virginia Adams and sperm donor I am from the love of action movies and infinite love for our children From not being lazy and never taking shit from anybody I am from the 5 percent nation & the Moorish Science Temple of America I’m from everywhere and nowhere at the same time Just trying to survive and show my kids something better than what’s out there.