A Letter to Helga from Her Father

My Dearest Helga:

Please indulge your father in absorbing this letter of apology in its entirety before warily discarding its contents. Words are sometimes woefully inadequate – but given the absence of any other meaningful means of communication I will beseech the power and magnificence of speech in my brief treatise to you today.

How can a single letter address a lifetime of doubt, uncertainly and grief?

Please understand, my dear daughter, that my untimely departure was borne of love. I believed that my presence, my attendance, my blackness was an obstacle and impediment to your wellbeing -- that I would soil your prospects for opportunity and fortune. I thought that my submission to the realization that spurned my scurrilous actions –- namely that love alone could not possibly conquer all -- was brave and courageous. I hoped that free of my encumbrance, you and your mother would be liberated to navigate a world not hindered and burdened by blackness and shame.

As your father and protector, I was consumed with the perfunctory makings of the life your dear mother and I had so ill-conceived –- ‘Who would employ a Black man residing with a White woman?’, ‘Where could we reside?’, ‘Where would you attend school?’, and ‘Who would you befriend?’ Over time, leaving seemed the only plausible solution.

Ultimately, I suspected that you would readily hate me for abandoning you, but I knew that if I stayed you would grow to abhor me, as well.

Of course, I only blame myself and you should only blame me. As a noble and privileged immigrant, your mother could not fathom the spectrum of difficulty our choice would fashion. However, my innocent Helga, even in my youth and naivete, I knew – and should have known better. Please do not imagine that I ever regretted loving your mother or seeing you into this world. I only wish that the universe were magnanimous enough to offer all that you deserved – free of constraint and restriction.

I pray that you have found love and happiness and belonging. I pray that you have found understanding and solace in the miraculous composite that you embody – both Black and White. I pray that your navigation of these myriad worlds has proven neither vexing nor troublesome.

Please be certain that despite the passage of time and circumstance, I have always loved you – and loving, my precious Helga, is a deed and behavior not simply a fleeting sentiment.

Your Father


Questions:

How did interracial couples publicly navigate life in the US in the early 20th century? Were there any safe havens for these relationships?

Is Helga’s nomadic spirit typical for young women of her day? Or was she indeed an anomaly in terms of her independence and autonomy?