When a friend or anyone else asks me about my family, I am upfront about growing up without a dad. Usually, I am met with a look of pity that is often followed by the words, "I'm sorry." There is always a numbness within me when I hear those words. You're sorry for what?

Growing up, I didn't know that I was deprived of a father. I didn't know that fathers were always around. I didn't know that fathers were meant to be leaders. I didn't know that fathers were meant to be the providers. I didn't know that fathers were meant to be the protectors.

I didn't know any of this because I saw a woman effortlessly execute each one of these roles.

I saw a woman solely provide for her children. I saw a woman who worked multiple jobs and still managed not to miss a single birthday. I saw a woman who didn't stumble over any obstacle. I saw a woman put both of her children through college. I saw a woman carry a village on her back. I saw the miraculous power of a woman.

I didn't know that I was meant to feel sorry until you told me to. I didn't know a single thing that a woman could not do and, for that, I am not sorry.

You may have been blessed with a father, but I was blessed without one.