by Heather Helton
Fathers, this writing is on behalf of your daughters who need you desperately. These words are not meant to blame, hurt, or point fingers, but to rattle you into responsiveness, to shake you into action. We hurting daughters are a national dilemma. You won’t hear about us on the six o’clock news, but we are here.
We are living under your roof, eating from the same dinner table as you, pouring from the same milk carton. We are spending at least eighteen years, or 6,570 days with you at home. We pass you in the hall and wonder why we aren’t enough to catch your eye. We wonder what on earth a television set, a newspaper, has that we don’t. We are curious why you don’t get fired up for your daughters like you do the big game.
We are attuned to the fact you don’t seem very interested in our words, our feelings, our deepest convictions and doubts. We sob on the inside.
When you ignore us you are changing who we are. You are changing who we were made to be, and not for the better. You may not see any results of your emotional absence now, but soon you will. When we drink too much, use drugs, and have premarital sex, then you will see. When we cheat, lie, drive drunk, choose to date and marry mean guys, and get pregnant out of wedlock, then you will see. You will see our low self-esteem manifested. Our insecurity will come to life and you will probably be mad at us. You shouldn’t be. You should be mad at yourself for not paying more attention to us when we were little girls.
Fathers, we are hurting.
Fathers, we thank you for the education, our shelter, food, and clothes, but fathers, we need more.
We are tender-hearted, but you wouldn’t know because you’ve never stared into our hearts.
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