The challenge with my father happened much sooner than I expected it to. I was in Chicago speaking to a group of students at a church called Shiloh on the South side off 71st and Michigan. A few minutes before I was scheduled to speak, I walked out of the main sanctuary towards the bathroom. As I was exiting the sanctuary and entering the lobby, I noticed a male figure that looked just like my biological father. After finding out that the father I had been raised by was not my biological father, I began asking questions. My aunt Cleo insinuated that Gerald, whom I assumed was a family friend, and used to stop by from time to time when I was younger, was my biological father. I vaguely recalled what he looked like, but this guy standing in the lobby looked like him! I began thinking to myself, “It’s not possible.” For one, how would he know I was in Chicago and more specifically, how would he know where I was speaking? The more I stared at him the more I realized he was my biological father, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it at the time, he looked a lot like me.
