Crises of Identity: “My Daddy’s DNA”

My birth certificate says “Father: Unknown.”

That single word — unknown — haunted me for years. It wasn’t just a blank space on a line; it was a hole in my heart. I used to stare at it and wonder, Who am I really? Where did I come from? Why didn’t he want me?

Crises of Identity

My mom raised me until I was four, and then she married a man I grew to call “Daddy.” He was a good man — hardworking, dependable, full of integrity — but emotionally distant. He had never known his own father, so love, for him, was shown through responsibility, not affection. I appreciated his presence, but I still longed for connection.

I was a little girl with frizzy, curly hair. My mom was white, my stepdad was white — and I didn’t think I looked like either of them. I was teased by the white kids for being different, called names I didn’t even understand. I remember crying to my mom, hoping she’d tell me I was beautiful, hoping she’d help me make sense of the cruelty. Instead, she told me to ignore them.

So I did what a lot of children do when they feel unseen — I built walls. I stopped talking about how I felt. I stopped asking questions. I learned early that rejection hurts less when you reject yourself first.

As I got older, I gravitated toward the people who accepted me — most of my friends were Black. Yet, even there, I carried confusion. At home, my white father didn’t approve. My white mother stayed silent. I was mixed — but mixed with what? No one could give me that answer.

Searching for the Missing Piece

When I turned 47, after my mom passed away, I finally decided to take a DNA test. I thought, This is it. I’ll finally get the missing piece.

And in some ways, I did. I found my biological father.

He was intelligent, charming, successful — and yes, he was Black. For a brief moment, I felt like my soul could exhale. We met for dinner. We talked. He explained that he had been a “rolling stone” in his younger days — a traveling salesman with a fast life and loose ends. I was one of those ends.

He said my mother was a one-night encounter. He promised to tell his family, and he did. I even spoke with his two daughters by phone once. I thought maybe this was the beginning of something new. But that hope quickly faded when he told me he couldn’t acknowledge me publicly — not then, not ever. His wife, the same woman he’d been married to during his “rolling stone” years, didn’t know.

At first, I tried to understand. I told myself to be patient. Then his wife passed away… and still, silence. Still, I remained the secret.

The last time we spoke, he told me he wasn’t ready for me to visit again. That’s when I knew — I had to protect my heart. I’d spent a lifetime chasing love, acceptance, and belonging. I didn’t have the strength to keep begging for it. Rejection, no matter how old you are, cuts deep — especially when it comes from someone whose blood runs through your veins.

And what I learned through it all is this:

When you experience rejection as a child, you learn to expect it as an adult. You start building walls — thick, invisible ones. You push people away before they get too close because deep down, you’re afraid they’ll leave anyway.

But God…

But God showed me something powerful. I didn’t need an earthly father’s love to be whole. My real DNA comes from my Heavenly Father.

Psalm 139:13 reminds me, “You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” That means before anyone ever knew me — before anyone ever claimed me — God already did.

And in 1 John 3:1, it says, “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God.”

That’s my identity. That’s my inheritance. That’s my bloodline.

So today, I walk with confidence knowing who my Father truly is. His love is healing. His presence is steady. His acceptance is complete.

No matter what’s written — or missing — on your birth certificate, remember this: your Heavenly Father already wrote your name in His Book. And that’s the only record that truly matters. 💜

Here’s some Reflection Questions for you:

1. What early experiences of rejection shaped the way you view yourself or others?

2. In what ways have you built emotional walls to protect yourself — and how might those walls be limiting your ability to connect?

3. What does being “known” by God mean to you personally?

4. Write a short prayer or affirmation reminding yourself that your identity and worth come from your Heavenly Father, not from who did or didn’t claim you.

   
   

🙏 My Prayer For You:

Heavenly Father,

You know who’s reading this post and you see their heart and know what they are in need of. Remind them that their identity and worth are not defined by people, titles, or circumstances — but by You alone. When the world tries to label them or when rejection makes them question their value, whisper to their heart that they are fearfully and wonderfully made. Help them see themself through Your eyes — chosen, loved, and created with divine purpose. Let Your truth be the foundation of they are.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.