In Lies She Trusts

1

My Dad said a lot of things. He had a lot of rules, and he claimed that they were the only rules that weren't meant to be broken. He claimed that you can't really trust anyone (not even your own family), you especially can't trust the government, you can't trust white people, and you really can't trust most black people.

I was quick to remind him that he himself is black, and so am I (well, half), but he reminded me that you couldn't really trust anyone. He neglected to specifically mention any other races, and once again I pointed that out to him. He reminded me again—you couldn't really trust anyone.

With my Dad being black, and in addition to the rule of not really trusting anyone, I had another question (arguably the most important one). Could I trust him? He told me that really, that was my decision to make. He said that in the same tone of voice teachers use when they say you have a choice between studying and not studying and doing your homework and not doing it.

I trusted him. But I didn't tell him that.

The one rule my Dad especially emphasized was his distrust of any and all forms of government, particularly the American government. He said our "democracy" had to be one of the most well orchestrated lies out of all lies. He argued that the whole idea of "representatives" was really what sunk the whole ship. We voted for these people under the impression that they had our own values in mind, when in truth super PACs were sneaking them money under the table to follow their values. Then we had political parties (he called them "factions") which he said did nothing but succeed in dividing our country that was already divided in ways that couldn't be controlled. He went on to say our three branch government was 100% corrupt and operated solely on what "faction" our President was or what "faction" the Senate or House majority was—which, he added, was all entirely influenced in the background by Super PACS. His point was, he concluded, was that the direction the country goes in really had little to nothing to do with the people. We made ourselves feel good when we voted. After that, everything was completely out of our hands.

As for my Dad's distrust for white people, he couldn't tell me where my "white mother" was or her "white family." My mother had run off on our family when I was young. Whether that was because of her skin color could be debated.

My Dad didn't trust black people, either. As a kid, he had grown up on the "wrong side" of town, so doing well in school was basically crucial in order for him to get out of his situation. Once his "black friends" saw that he had a future, they dropped him faster than Dow Chemical Company stock markets during recession. Once again, whether their behavior was a direct attribute of their skin color could be debated.

But with all my Dad's distrust, I figured he could trust me.

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Looking back on writing, I see that maybe I painted a poor picture of my Dad. My Dad wasn't some embittered old man, sitting on the couch eating potato chips as he moaned to me about all his lesser moments in life. He was actually a pretty freaking wealthy guy who was the CEO of Arrow Petroleum. I was a little hazy on the details of what he actually did, or what his company actually did (I mean, the name includes the word "petroleum", so he most definitely sells oil). But what was clear to me was what his wealth meant socially. It meant extravagant parties with other CEOs that were equally or more successful than him just about every week and name brand articles of clothing. It meant that I stay out of the limelight (as in, try to avoid crashing fancy sports cars while being drunk out of your mind), and if you are in the limelight, well, it better be for something pretty damn good. It meant that I attended the best private school in New York (which prides itself in the fact it gets listed as one of the "best schools" in the US News and World Report). The only thing different socially for me than the other rich kids I knew was achieving top grades.