My father took everything from me. He had his vision of who I should be: a Christian, straight A student, warrior, black man. It was a noble vision, but to shape it, my father undermined everything that I was, took everything that didn’t bring me closer to his vision and erased it. He erased me.

The lack of power and the pursuit of it have defined my life. In truth, we all have power, for we all have choice. It took me a long time to understand that, so I was like the beggar in the old Buddhist parable. The story goes: a man lost his fortune and had to live in the street with nothing but his clothes and a coat his father had willed him. He spent his days begging for food until one day a man asked him why he was begging. The beggar, of course, explained that he had no choice. A Zen-style dialogue unfolds between the two, and by the end of the conversation, the beggar has discovered a priceless jewel sewn into the lining of his father’s coat. The beggar had been rich all along; he just didn’t know it. 

My husband and I are rebuilding our house, which was destroyed in a fire a year and a half ago. You could say it was my fault. Before the fire, I insisted on renovating my husband’s bathroom, turning it into a spa-like space with a steam shower, mosaic glass tiles, and a waterfall tap. He said, “Why bother? It is perfectly good as it is.”