“Daddy’s little girl” is one of my least favorite phrases.
I never really thought about the phrase. In fact, I kind of liked it. In the past, I never had a close relationship with my father, as he and my mother split when I was three. Since my dad moved to California over six years ago, and I moved three years ago,  we have gotten closer and he now calls me “daddy’s little girl”. I want to say this now, but my father is an amazing father. He was raised in the gritty streets of New York during the late sixties and seventies, which was a very crime filled era. This caused him to have a very “macho” mindset.

My dad currently owns a very nice farm in the boondocks and owns 4 goats, 10+ chickens, 2 dogs, 2 cats, and guinea fowl (the weirdest animals I’ve just about seen. Think peacock and turkey merged into one obnoxiously loud creature.) I love to visit, as there is always something to do and every night we stay up to watch scary shows and movies after a long day of work.

There’s only one problem- I’m not allowed to do anything since I’m “Daddy’s Little Girl”. My dad sends my brother and I out to do work, but without realizing it, doesn’t allow me to do anything productive to the farm. He worries that I’ll hurt myself or others and that I’ll take hours to finish the “man’s” task. My “hardest” job I've done has been peeling the tape off cardboard boxes, throwing rocks and pine cones over the fence, and washing the dishes. I shouldn’t be disallowed to do certain things because of my gender.

Just to be clear, I don’t mind these jobs. I like feeding the animals and helping around. They do make a difference around the farm. I do mind when I’m sitting around counting pebbles when my brother is swinging a pickaxe and digging holes in twice the time if I can just help out. My brother is currently 21, so of course he is stronger than me. Yet, that doesn’t excuse the fact that when he was my age, he was allowed to carry around a machete and run around the jungle in Hawaii, while I’m not allowed to get near the stove, the pickaxe, dig holes, and get dirty.

Once, my brother spilt water on the gas stove and caused a huge flame and got burned. It was me who grabbed the fire extinguisher and alerted my dad, put aloe vera on my brother’s hands-- all while we waited for dad to come back. My dad and stepmom didn’t even know they had a fire extinguisher, yet I found it. You’d think that would be proof enough that I am capable of handling myself.

I love my dad. He tells me to do my best in everything I do, and doesn't care about my gender. It is only when it comes to physical activities that he goes, "Here, let him do it. It'll be quicker if your brother and I do it!" I don't think he even notices what he's doing!

He wants the best for my brother and me, and always makes sure to take the time to call me even if he’s out in Europe doing an art expo. He puts his children first and always makes an effort to see his children. Fathers, let this be a lesson. Please know, maybe even daddy’s little girl deserves to be trusted with a machete.