When I was 13, My birth father, Abdel Jabar Zakar left my life. And I'm nothing but grateful for that.

My most accurate word to describe him is: Weird.

His culture, and the culture I was being raised in weren't the same. He wanted me to be Muslim, or nothing at all to him. He was in an Islam community, because he was born and raised in Morocco.

My first childhood memory: Hiding my head under the couch, wishing it would stop. My mom took me to (a Baptist Christian) Church, and I accidentally told... I'm sorry mom. I remember seeing our dinner thrown at her and the instant screaming. She was even spit on.. I was sorry Momma.

My mother divorced Zakar when I was 4. So I went to his house three days a week.

Three days of hell. Like I said, he was weird.

I was pushed this religion I didn't want. Started small-

No pork because “Pigs are the filthiest things on this planet. If I eat it, I will go to hell.

Jeans only. Even at the beach.

Without my Mother knowing, he took me to the Muslim Mosque. The Flint Islam Center, is where exactly. I was confused. Confused why I had to sit in the corner of this room with Men while they would just pray and pray, while saying stuff I couldn't understand.

Takbir is entering into the state of prayer by glorifying God. Muslims face towards Makkah and make the intention to pray. To begin the act of prayer, they say 'Allahu Akbar' meaning God is great, raising the hands to the ears or shoulder.

It was like being in a foreign country because I couldn't understand a word anyone said. Once, when I was lost in there I just remember feeling scared. I thought of it as, I was a young child lost in a foreign country.

My most remembered Ramadan was odd. Ramadan is a time of spiritual reflection, improvement and increased devotion and worship. Muslims are expected to put more effort into following the teachings of Islam. The fast (sawm) begins at dawn and ends at sunset.

This specific time I can first really really remember it, I was probably 6.

We went to the farm. At the farm we butchered a sheep. (But that's not too weird. My (step) Dad hunts deer.) After we killed it, we took it home to hang it in his apartment kitchen/living room. His apartment is 300-400 sq st max. Yet after we killed it/ slaughtered it, we next gutted it/ cut it up to eat. Hanging by it's neck, it was just dangling there. Guts and blood spilling everywhere.

Once the sun went down, it was over and I'd be able to eat. I remember having some regular meet from it. I really remember him making me eat the liver, while he ate an eye ball, part of the brain and the tongue out of our “bowl" that we ate out of together, with our hands. Weird Man. At least to baby/little me it was.

Having to wait all day to eat, wasn't anything new, so Ramadan wasn't any different. Usually, I didn't eat. If you opened the kitchen cupboard, there wouldn't be anything besides cockroaches. Maybe some bread on a good day. The fridge on a good day would maybe have some milk and cream cheese. Those three items were just on good days. I was told I was just too fat to eat. That he just didn’t want me to become a fat cow.

Friday night I would stay with him at the gas station he worked at, and home around 11:30-1am for the weekend. On a good week, we went to Family Video so I could rent 1-3 (3 if they were 50 cent rentals) for me to watch on repeat. And I literally mean repeat.

He didn't talk to me.... I just kinda stayed in my room watching those three movies. My room had a mattress and a tv in there. Blessed for those two items though. That would maybe be okay for me if I could at least go outside, but I wasn't aloud to. He lived in an apartment in Downtown Flint. Those of you that know Flint, it was on Robert T Longway/Court Street off of Dort Highway. Soooo, not the best place for a child to run around. Not a friend or child in site. It's like no one talked to me for three days. (Besides when he'd go to his friend house, and his friend had an American wife.)

At one point, I didn't care I wasn't aloud outside. I ran away once at his house. Took all the quarters to go find a pay phone to call my Mom.

But when I got a little older it's not like I could have friends over, it was too damn embarrassing.

I thought (and of course it's true) my friends won't wanna have roaches crawling around them and not be fed.

This man was supposed to be my father, but not once did he show me a loving emotion. He was cold, and just angry. I was his anger.

Oh, I said I did not want to marry my cousin? Shit would blow up. Because I “wasn't going to be aloud" to marry an American. Only my cousins that he chose. We would Skype them.

I said I wasn't going to ever wear a Hijab? Shit would blow up.

I wanted to wear shorts to the beach? I knew not to even try that one after a while.

We only went maybe a few times, but the beach wasn't fun anyways. I just sat there and watched everyone have fun. I wasn't aloud to get in the water, talk to anyone, no nothing, wasn't aloud. He just would fish. Oh well. But another weird thing? He would eat the worms and I just sit here and wonder WHY? Like why was he so... Weird.

It's enough that there are roaches everywhere at the house.

He did buy me some pets a few times when I was in elementary school. BUT The fish got killed by the bug bombs (that didn't even work) and he bought me a PET rabbit, but he ate it one day when he got hungry. (Eating rabbit wasn't weird for us to do, but my fucking pet.)

Eventually, he married someone. She was his cousin Maria from Morocco. She couldn't speak English so we weren't close. But I thought he was going to change.

He had another child with her, the last time I saw her she was around 6 months old.

The last time I was there, I was having enough of the abusing her constant. And the screaming. I couldn't see or hear it anymore.

“Hit her again and I just won't come back."

“Ok" As he continues to hurt her. Around 9 years ago.

He never picked up the phone to call me ever again.

In 2017, I asked his friends wife, why he gave up on me. She said it was because I wasn't a Muslim.

Also in 2017, I asked her “Can I have his address to send him a letter?" Because my therapist and I had been working on a “closure/goodbye" letter. First, his wife wouldn't send the message and said “He will just go crazy. I'm to scared to ask."

Eventually he heard, he didn't want me to have his address.

This woman then said “But Zakar, come on. She is married with a baby now. You don't want to even see how she's doing?" And he said “I want nothing to do with her." “She's never invited me to anything, so why would I care? 1. Letter wasn't to be his damn friend. 2. Why in the hell would I “invite" a man who disowned me? He had his chances.

Hey Zakar, wanna know some stuff you've missed? (Thankful.)

You met none of my friends or my husband. You weren’t there for a single good memory I had, EVER.

I played softball from 2nd to 8th grade (part of HS) and played basketball from 7th-10th grade. Lots of games you could've went to.

I did lots of cool stuff. Like I was in 2 plays (involved in 3). Went to 3 proms. Was in Student Government 7th-12th grade. Went to leadership conferences and was in leadership contests (through FFA).

We had a foreign exchange student, Proud.

I graduated high school.

Dave (my new Dad) walked me down the aisle.

I moved across the country without a “good luck" message. (Didn't need one of course.)

I had my Son. The best damn thing about me. You taught me how NOT to be a parent. So thank you for that one!!! Ps. Never call yourself a grandparent. (Unless it’s your others children's babies.)

Oh and when I was stranded in Washington when my divorce started, don't worry, my Mom and Dave made sure I ate. Just proves I’ll never need a trash parent.

I've had 8 or 9 birthdays without a “Happy Birthday.” It stopped effective me, well.. It never did effect me.

You've had 3 kids (that I know of) and a wife.

And when I saw Zakar when I was 16, he didn't recognize me. Andrew and I were sitting at a Chinese restaurant, and my heart and stomach dropped. They were sitting in the booth behind me. My own blood didn't know who I was.

THANK YOU ABDEL JABAR ZAKAR FOR GIVING UP ON ME. YOU DID ME A FAVOR.

Knowing I'll never speak to you again makes my heart happy. Forgiveness? Not a thing in this situation.

I'm glad he never came to graduation, my wedding or met my son. I wish he would've given up on me before 13. Would've saved me some trouble.

Just because they're blood doesn't mean they're true family. Whoever says you can't “pick your family" was thankfully wrong.

Thank you for missing everything Zakar. (Wish you would've left me alone completely after I was 4.)

If you're reading this Zakar, my only words to you are: Thank you for showing me the real you so young and saving me some heartbreak. And don’t worry, after the divorce, I won’t be taking your last name back and I’m for sure not keeping my middle name either. They’re both, just you.. And you are something I want no small connection to. My last name will be my moms maiden name, Johnson. Anyways, this is my last goodbye. I won’t even be at your funeral.

(Matison Rokia Zakar—> Matison Rokia Francis—> Matison Johnson.)

What I would’ve done without my fam bam, I don’t know. I really wouldn’t know.