Growing Up Without My Father

Raymond Galbreath is my father, and I am his youngest daughter. Growing up without him in my life was incredibly difficult. I carried a deep resentment about his absence and yearned intensely for his presence—a longing that seemed to consume me at times.

Growing up as a biracial person presented its own unique challenges. I was raised exclusively within the Caucasian side of my family, and while they never explicitly said it, I always felt too "African American" for them. Despite their deep love for me, I consistently stood out among my relatives, making me feel perpetually different in their eyes.

Throughout my childhood, I was frequently mistaken for races other than my own, which deeply bothered me. What troubled me even more was feeling not "African American enough" when I was in the presence of other African Americans. "Who am I?" became a question I asked myself repeatedly.

Someone once told me that it would have been better if I had an African American mother instead of an African American father because mothers are typically the ones who teach children about their culture. This comment left me wondering why my father wasn't there to teach me essential life lessons—how to ride a bike, play sports, or work on the car he had promised to buy me when I got older. The yearning for my father's presence was constant and profound.

I was born just one month before my father's incarceration, so I never had the opportunity to meet him in person. My mother did her best to share everything she knew about my father, understanding my deep longing for his presence and recognizing how much I needed him in my life. I was overwhelmed with happiness when my mother finally located my father within the prison system, giving me the chance to speak with this stranger—this man who had created me.

My mother unfortunately passed away at the age of 52 in 2023. Losing one parent while the other serves a life sentence has been incredibly difficult. I have been waiting for my father's release since I was 12 years old, and I will continue to wait for him until he is free and back where he belongs—with his family.

Sincerely,

P.T.