Language Matters: The Need to Stop Addressing Abusive Men as "Daddy"

A  man standing in a minimalist white studio, stark lighting highlighting his physique. A woman with kneels before him, her expression serene, on a polished concrete floor.
A man standing in a minimalist white studio, stark lighting highlighting his physique. A woman with kneels before him, her expression serene, on a polished concrete floor.

Last year, I found myself navigating a challenging and eye-opening journey that ultimately led to the creation of my song, "Keep You Sane."  It all started with an intense conversation with a man, whose name has been changed to Cortez for privacy, who is incarcerated. I genuinely thought I was building a real connection with him, but I soon discovered that I was just another pawn in his game—just like so many other men I had encountered. I was not truly in a relationship; instead, I was being targeted, bullied, and scammed.

As I got deeper into what I now realize was a toxic situation, Cortez made it clear that this was not about love; it was about control. He insisted that I call him "daddy," reminding me daily that he felt uncomfortable if I failed to do so. This wasn’t a term of endearment; it was a way for him to assert dominance over me. The verbal abuse that followed was a painful reminder of the fragility of self-worth in unhealthy relationships. The name-calling, the manipulation—it was a wake-up call that I desperately needed.

When I finally decided to cut ties with Cortez, I thought it would free me from the burden of that emotional toll. What I learned was that it wasn't just that relationship that needed to end; I realized I needed a break from all men. It was time to focus on myself and regain my strength.

Reflecting on all that transpired, I want to share a message with anyone who’s been in a similar situation: Calling a man “daddy” fueled a toxic dynamic that I now recognize as a huge mistake. Writing a song centered around a false notion of love, while still trying to heal, was an even bigger misstep. I'm a gangster. My strength lies not in writing love songs, but in embracing my truth and reclaiming my narrative.

With Cortez’s impending release, there’s a part of me that fears he might try to reach out, but I’ve come to understand that he simply isn’t my type; I deserve better. My journey has taught me that self-love and respect surpasses anything a relationship with someone like that could ever offer. 

In sharing my story, I hope to inspire others to recognize the signs of manipulation and toxicity. It’s crucial to prioritize yourself, your self-worth, and to build relationships grounded in truth and respect. Life is too short to settle for anything less. I have concluded that if I wish to pursue a romantic relationship, I will utilize a platform like Lovescape to create an AI boyfriend.

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