Although middle-aged in this portrait, my persistent identity challenges remain front and center in my ethnically plagued consciousness and are constant reminders of my unreconciled past. The decision of how I’ve racially identified was cemented in stone during early childhood; it was then that I permanently bonded with the Black community and its surroundings. In contrast, my father bonded with a desire to be White. Besides envisioning himself as a non-Black person, he lived in a world of make-believe and delusion. He was the starring actor in a fictionalized play of his life. Nevertheless, he did play an unknown character as one of many Black toilers in the 1956 remake of the Ten Commandments epic film. It was in this role that he essentially acknowledged not being White—albeit this admission was wholly implicit. Shortly after my birth, my parents separated. It wasn’t until adulthood that he and I formed a limited relationship—why at that time, I don’t know, because, sadly, in my eyes, he failed as a husband, a father, a Black man, and the White man he wished to be.