Willie B.
Dear Reader,
Willie’s letter includes experiences of emotional and physical abuse. We advise those who may be triggered by these topics to exercise caution when reading this letter.
Sincerely, The IfYoureReadingThis SMU Team
If you’re reading this, you can forgive your father.
Like many men of his generation, my dad did not know how to process his anger. As a result he took it out on my siblings and my mom, emotionally and physically. I grew up terrified. Of him, and as it turned out, of all men. When Dad got home, I could tell by the way he pulled into the driveway whether there was a good chance I was going to get beaten.
And so for much of my early life, until I was in my 20s and married for the first time, I would suppress my own fear and anger, which of course caused me to follow his pattern of exploding in rage when I could no longer contain it. Eventually, as my first marriage was ending, I sought help through therapy and with lots of support and hard work, I began to get clear about the impact my childhood was having on me as an adult.
In 1993, I finally had enough courage to write to my dad and confront him about the way he’d raised me.
The abuse, the trauma, the terror, all of it. I wrote that I was no longer going to live in fear of him. And that what I really wanted was to try and have a real, loving relationship with him, to know about his life and his hopes and dreams.
To this day it remains the scariest thing I’ve ever done. And the thing I’m most proud of.
After I finally mailed it (and believe me, it took lots of time and several rewrites), I had violent nightmares. While awake, I feared reading the letter would kill him, or worse, end our relationship for good. Three months later he wrote me back.
It took me 24 hours to open his letter, and when I read it I had to put it down several times to cry. It was overwhelming and beautiful.
He said that he was glad I’d written to him, and that his biggest regret was the way he’d raised us. He shared about his upbringing, and his only dream which was to play professional baseball. For the first time ever he told me that when he was graduating college as MVP of his baseball team, he was invited to spring training in Kansas City, a chance at his dream. And he declined to go because at the time my mom was pregnant with their first child. Me.
Suddenly many things became clearer. He shared lots of things I didn’t know about, too many to list. He told me he loved me, and that he was proud of me.
His letter to me is my most prized possession.
After my mom died in 2003, he told me that letter was the first time he’d ever bared his soul. And that because of it the last ten years he spent with my mom were the best they’d ever shared. In 1993 (the year I wrote him the letter), I also began buying homeless signs from people on the street, which evolved into a long term art project called WE ARE ALL HOMELESS. As part of that project, for many years I’ve been asking people “What is home?” For me personally there are many answers to that question, but the most important answer is safety.
I’m so grateful for this journey with Dad. He is now in his late 80s, his health isn’t great and he can barely see any more. We don’t talk often, but when we do I can feel the love and the healing we’ve both experienced. I am often transported back to the first time I visited home after we’d exchanged the letters, when he actually got up out of his recliner and walked up to me and we hugged. It felt like the first hug we ever shared.
I’m so lucky I got to do this while he is alive. But I’ve had many friends write letters to their fathers after they were gone, and their experiences were just as profound.
I’ve come to realize that it’s really about healing the relationship with oneself that is at the core of our parent issues. Healing those issues takes work, courage, and grace.
Ultimately it’s not about them at all, it’s about us. I believe it’s the most glorious way you can love yourself. It’s an inside job, and you can do it.
Willie B., Professor, Southern Methodist University
the we are all homeless project
The WE ARE ALL HOMELESS project began in 1993 when Willie Baronet bought a sign from a person experiencing homelessness, and since 2009, his ever-growing collection of signs has been used in dozens of art installations across the US and the UK. In 2016, Baronet produced the documentary ‘Signs of Humanity’ to share a few of the raw stories of human struggle and the resilience of the people ehind the signs. Through presentations, symposiums, and workshops, our non-profit organization, WE ARE ALL HOMELESS, hopes to challenge stereotypes, inspire empathy, and drive social change.
From the WE ARE ALL HOMELESS Website
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