I’m going to share a story with you from my childhood. I’ve felt like I should share this for quite some time now, but as you all know our many travels take up much of our time. Yet, now I feel it pressing greatly on my heart, so I am writing this while on the road. This is the story about my biological father. No, I’m not adopted, but he was in prison much of my life and prior to that I didn’t know him well. However, I still got to know him just well enough to help put him in jail. His crime? You’ll learn that soon.
My mother and father met in a juvenile detention center somewhere in Georgia. My mother was born and raised in the Atlanta area and my father in Florida. They were both young wild teenagers who loved breaking the rules. Their whirlwind romance fueled by passion and lust led quickly to an unplanned teen pregnancy. While pregnant, my mother ran away from the facility she was put in and continued her life of crime. She had it rough and sadly didn’t quite know how to live in the world like a normal person.
I don’t know what stories my mother told me from her youth are true and which are not, because I’ve learned as an adult many things that she lied about. What I was told by her is that she got caught stealing cars again while on the run. When she went before the judge as a 17 year old very pregnant teenage girl, he emancipated her, saying she had better get her life together or she will be treated as an adult next time. He said she was old enough to have a child so she should be old enough to have adult consequences.
My mother gave birth to me late October 1988 in Topeka, Kansas. Within a few short years she suffered many tragedies and trials. Sadly, she blamed her upbringing, and I believe it led to her going and staying in a dark place emotionally and spiritually. She didn’t have the skill set or education to do better at that time. She separated from my biological father with allegations of abuse, infidelity, and being unwilling to work to help provide. On many occasions my father apparently held a gun to me and used me to keep my mom from leaving. I still have small scars to this day that are from that time.
In 1991, mom had it rough. Her little brother and her father died, as well as being homeless a few times. The man who ran the homeless shelter would allow the women there only if they had sex with him. Then, she had her mental break. My sister and I were surrendered to the state according to my other relatives, but she says they took us against her will. Either way, she endured tragedies and we were no longer in her care.
Fast forward a bit, and my mother was able to have a judge grant her custody of my sister and myself again when she was pregnant with my brother. The judge said if she married the father of this child, he would give us back, and so she did. I was then kept away from my grandmother, aunt, cousins, and much of my paternal family that I loved dearly. She wanted nothing to do with them or our father. Due to this, I didn’t have much more time with them growing up. I learned as an adult many things through family and I believe she had hoped we would never learn the many secrets she intended to keep from us.
My mother separated from my brother’s dad and she dated several men before meeting her long time boyfriend who she now is no longer with. Still, he was more of a father figure than anyone else I had. He was 19 years old and taking on 3 children when he got with my mother who was 7 years older. We lived in poverty or low income status for most of our lives. Because of this, she decided to allow my biological father back into our lives. He made many promises; for work, assistance, child support, to be a dad, and who knows what else. We moved to a rural area in northern Florida. That’s when everything changed.
As our relationship grew, this sweet young girl, who was about the same age as I was, confided in me while in a broken down school bus. My bio father and grandfather had a large property with a trailer, a cabin, sheds, and lots of broken down vehicles to tinker with. The school bus was a lot of fun for the children. The little girl told me that “daddy” was her husband. I was always a smart kid and because my mother treated me as a friend, I always was aware of adult things. At this time I was aware that what was happening to her was wrong. I had to expose these two men, who are related by blood, and yet they were raping a very young little girl, and possibly there were more victims as well.
As I reflect on my childhood, I see now that I was always advocating for those I believed were the innocents; children, animals, and anyone in need. Speaking out against these kinds of things has always come naturally. Perhaps, it is an attribute or maybe life experience, but it is a huge part of me as a person. I will always fight. I never quit. Especially, when it is for someone else!
After my father and my grandfather were imprisoned (grandfather was charged with raping my beloved aunt in Texas and Florida- so he had many life sentences) we had more trials to come. The whole back story of this blog was to bring you to here.
I was a young innocent child who fought for what was right, as were my younger siblings, and yet we began to be in fights at school, property destroyed, lots of bullying, and in this small town environment word travels fast when you’re “the child of a rapist”. Our lives were suddenly a literal hell. The locals burned his house and the cabin down as well as destroying everything else. Yet it wasn’t enough for them. The local mob felt the need to treat me as though I was inherently evil because I was “a rapist’s offspring” rather than the girl who stood up for justice.
This was a hard time in my life, but it has made me stronger in many ways. I think one example is with my own child. I thought of how it was to be a “rapist’s child” rather than just me, Heather, a person like any other. I learned that I can not blame my child for the crimes of her father or I would be no better than any of those mean people from long ago. I was determined to be the opposite of the world I knew. I just had to figure out how. This is how my friends. I am sharing my life, sharing a unique perspective, and I’m grateful for the people I get to help by doing it.
Imagine if your father had done something monstrous like mine did. Would you deserve the backlash from the angry mob? How many families have we seen around the country who had a relative commit a horrific crime and then their families are targeted for the hate? That’s what is happening to children growing in the womb who’ve been conceived in rape. We, as a society, are dehumanizing them and attaching the sins of their father to them, and saying they’ll never be their own person. We add to the support of rape culture when we kill the children who came to be from rape. You are supporting this idea that they are the “child of a rapist”. Don’t do that, it’s wrong!
I love my mother deeply, and even though we don’t speak at this time, I know she tried to do better than what she grew up with. I didn’t get to know my father well because he spent much of my life behind bars. He’s had many allegations from women of rape, abuse, and labeled as a con artist. Does that mean somehow I’m tainted because of who he chose to be?
After everything I’ve learned, I wonder if my mother had been raped by him. I ponder if there is a possibility that I was conceived in this way. I may never know, but I can empathize with the children conceived from rape, like my daughter. I felt first hand what it is like to be discriminated against for something that was out of your control. This needs to change. I see that even the most vulnerable and pure are at risk for the mob mentality. Don’t fall into that.
Please join me in being the generation that we so desperately need. We can not improve if we do not change the culture around those who are literally being punished for the crimes of their fathers. Many rapists never get convicted, but why do their children still get punished? My daughter didn’t deserve to be targeted for death through abortion because she came to be in a way that I hope no one has to experience. I didn’t deserve to be assaulted and tormented because of someone else’s actions. Open your heart to see how awful it truly is!
Our culture as become seemingly immune to the shock that comes with heinous acts like rape or murder. The desensitized America of today needs leaders to show the way. Part of leading the way is doing so with love. Rape, it’s one of the worst violations against women or girls out there. Rather than telling them there is something wrong with her child from rape we should comfort her and provide resources. We need to EMPOWER women to choose life for their children.
If we do not value our most innocent and weak; the disabled, the elderly, the preborn, the “difficult” cases, how can we value others at ANY stage in life? A culture of violence through abortion, through television, video games, medical suicide, and many other ways has rapidly become socially acceptable. If we can’t protect the basic human rights of the most innocent people we can’t expect any one else’s lives to be valued. To bring an end to the violence we must all openly and firmly reject abortion and medical euthanasia. We must completely turn away from the movies, music, and television that promotes and normalizes violence. We need to teach the next generations that the exploitation of vulnerable women is morally reprehensible! It’ll be difficult but not impossible.
Don’t be discouraged and keep fighting. In a world where everything can be offensive, stand firmly against anything that promotes violence and hate. Spread love and compassion throughout your life. I am not the child of a rapist nor is my daughter. I am my own person and my relatives do not diminish what I contribute to the world. Please, find it in your heart to speak out for those like my daughter, myself, my friends at Save The 1, and the others who have been devalued by society because of their biological father’s actions.
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Learn more about Heather at http://HeatherHobbs.org
