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Twice As Hard

Scandal may be the only show that I won’t watch on DVR this season. All others are on record status and I catch them when I can. But Scandal!… This show is exposing the true underbelly of D.C. and makes West Wing look like child’s play.

I am still thinking of that father-daughter reunion and can write a book just on those few minutes of fire to fire exchange. I sat there and thought back to my own dad and how on some similar plane in his own language, he’s been instrumental for placing that drive and purpose to step out into the world and excel.

My dad is an illiterate Haitian immigrant who knew hard back-breaking work most of his life. Left in a world with a mother long gone since his birth, he was passed from one older sister to another to be raised by. I wonder if they were the ones who set the tone of expectation in what a woman should be like. He dreamed big, married up and had children with a wife who he knew could handle her own and raise his children well.

My dad was not perfect by far. A string of indiscretions and mistakes have since yielded a remorseful heart. He is spending the rest of his days making up for lost time and energy.

Yet my dad never raised me to be naive or anybody’s fool. I was taught early on to make my own. While others were out there selling pounds of flesh for meager returns, I was in church and school. He stressed that nobody deserved any piece of me without fighting hard for my personal worth. My virginity wasn’t free for the taking and no man’s money would hold me captive. He drilled education into my brain and stopped up my ears with fear so it wouldn’t ooze back out.

I remember getting a part time job and hearing him rant about my soon to come independence. He wanted to be my provider for as long as he could. My first used car in college-he went half on it. My first new car-he had $500 in his pocket for the insurance. He was there with my then husband, trailing behind making sure I didn’t get duped. We’d talk politics and have arguments on whose political party was justified in the policies of the day. The snap shots come flooding back on how he bolstered my esteem, how he went from holding my hand to make that trek up the hill to kindergarten in St Maarten, to slowly letting it go on my wedding day.

My Papa (French pronunciation) never promised me the world but he did make me feel that it was mine for the taking. I got my first degree and he was like “so when you going for your second?” That’s the kind of dad I have. I realized that I fed his daddy chest with my accomplishments. It’s the least I can do.

Liv’s dad seems like a pretty intense and cutthroat type of guy. I suspect that this first episode is an inkling of more to come. I hope the writers continue to dig deep for more between those two. Every father has had this type of conversation with their princesses. Most I gather didn’t use words like whore and mediocrity but it has all fallen along the same lines.

Liv hates him but she’s every spitting image of his drive and machinations. I often think of all these little girls being raised without a daddy. Who do they run to when they bruise-inwardly and outwardly? They are like ships lost at sea, no sail and no rudder.

My vantage point as a “daddy’s girl” is like Liv’s–entitled. Like Liv, I know I deserve and merit the best that life has to offer cause my earthly father showed me in his special way that I did.

Scandal is doing the most for my psychotherapy fix and yes even my spiritual fix! I think I can give myself that one hour each week with friends to see Liv in a different light.

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