Moving to Mississippi Changed Everything
I was eight years old when we packed our lives and left for Tupelo, Mississippi. For a little girl like me, that move was terrifying. Everything I knew was back home—my routine, my safe spaces, and the one friend I had who came around during school breaks. I loved her. I loved her grandparents even more.
But my parents? They were chasing a better life. My daddy had a chance to make more money down South, and that was reason enough to go.
Looking back, I understand. But at the time? I was scared, confused, and heartbroken. I didn’t know it then, but that move would uncover a secret that would follow me for years.
The Day I Found Out My Last Name Wasn’t Mine
In Missouri, I was a S—just like my momma and daddy. That’s who I was. That’s who I had always been.
But when we got to Mississippi, things changed fast. At school enrollment, my momma tried to quietly explain that I didn’t know my real last name was W. My daddy was in the process of adopting me, and until then, I believed S was my name.
The secretary didn’t keep it quiet. Loud enough for the whole school to hear, she said:
“Ma’am, this isn’t Missouri. She has to go by W. That’s her legal name.”
I froze. Confused and embarrassed, I turned to my momma.
“Momma, I am NOT a W! What is she talking about?”
She hit me with that classic:
“That’s adult business, baby. Don’t worry about it.”
But I did worry about it.
I refused to answer to W in class. I didn’t care what the school said. To me, I was a S—and I wasn’t budging.
The Move That Didn’t Last a Week
We weren’t in Mississippi long. My momma had brought my niece with us—a beautiful little mixed baby girl, just a year old. One afternoon, as she waited outside my classroom, some racist white woman made a comment about that “white woman holding that precious baby.”
Let’s just say… my momma almost caught a case that day.
By nightfall, we were packed up and heading back home. Thank God.
But even though we left Mississippi behind, that identity bombshell came home with me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
So… Who Was I, Really?
As a kid, I didn’t fully understand why my last name didn’t match the man I called Daddy. But over time, the pieces started to come together.
My momma had dated a man from the W family. Their family was all tangled up with ours—my momma, her sister, and her brother were all involved with W siblings.
But while she was with W, she met my daddy through her brother. They were best friends.
While W was off working, she was out seeing my daddy.
The Truth Beneath the Name
My daddy was five years younger than my momma. When she got pregnant, I wonder if she stayed with W for stability. Maybe she didn’t want to ruin my daddy’s young life. Maybe it was more complicated than any of that.
What I do know is this:
My momma was smart. She tracked everything—cycles, due dates, details. When I got pregnant at 14, she told me my due date more accurately than my doctor did.
She knew exactly who I belonged to. I’d bet my life on it.
My theory is that my grandparents questioned DNA at some point, and that probably got to my momma and shes was petty. Who do y’all think I get that from? Not my daddy.
How My Daddy Stepped Up Anyway
But whatever her reason, my daddy showed up.
Five months after I was born, he and my momma got married.
He quit drinking. Quit smoking his Jesus lettuce. Traded his Mustang for a station wagon. He raised all four of us like we were his own—because we were.
We didn’t have the money to make it official on paper. But he was always my daddy. I am biologically a S. Done a ancestry test.
Learning to Live With “W”
When I got pregnant at 14, I had to use the name W on paperwork. WIC. Doctors’ offices. It stung every time.
But over the years, I learned to live with it. Even if it felt wrong, I knew who I was inside.
I am a S
Why It’s Time to Make It Official
This year, I’m looking into changing my name legally. I want it to reflect who I’ve always been.
My daddy didn’t just raise me. He is my father. And it’s time the paperwork caught up to the truth.
How the Right People Show Up at the Right Time
Funny thing? The year we came back home, a girl named A moved in next door. She became my soul sister. A real one.
God knew what He was doing. Just like He knew what He was doing when He gave my momma my daddy.
Life Lessons I Carry With Me
That time in my life taught me a lot. Like:
- Even Mommas and Daddys lie sometimes—but it’s not always to hurt you. Sometimes, it’s to protect you.
- You don’t need paperwork to know who your family is.
- Your identity isn’t always what the law says—it’s what’s lived, loved, and proven.
My momma was wild. She didn’t care what the law said. She’d white out “W” on every paper and write in “S” like she was the only one who had say, that the court didn’t need to have their nose in her families drama. Gotta love her.
And honestly? I love that about her. She was a handful, but she loved her kids, and grandkids.
Thank God my daddy had the patience to love her—and all of us—the way he did.