I am the child of a single-parent family. Since I can remember, my parents have been arguing. It's either plates and bowls being thrown every day, or cups being smashed.

After breaking things, my dad would slam the door and go straight to my grandmother's house to eat and sleep.

My mom, on the other hand, would squat in the corner and cry silently.

After crying enough, she would start grabbing my arm and ask me, "Why are you a girl? Why can't you be a son? Do you know that because you're not a son, I can't hold my head up in this family and this village?"

I silently endured the beatings and scolding, but I couldn't understand it at all.

Whether I'm a boy or a girl, it's not something I can decide, right?

But back then, I was young, and being scolded and beaten so much, I started to dislike myself.

Subconsciously, I felt that every time my parents argued, it was because I wasn't a son.

Fortunately, the following year, when I was ten years old, my younger brother was born.

Mom was very happy. She thought that if she had a son, Dad would be able to focus on work and they wouldn't argue anymore.

But she was wrong. Dad didn't start working hard just because he had a son.

Everyone in the village went out to work together, carrying bags and bedding. But my dad took away the little money we had at home, saying it was for travel expenses.

Although my mom was reluctant, she still gave it to him.

She held my newborn brother and comforted me, as if she was comforting herself.

"Your dad is going to work now. When the New Year comes, he'll definitely bring back a lot of money. By then, both you and your brother can buy new clothes, and we can have a prosperous year."

Unexpectedly, my mom's hope would be shattered so soon.

When it was almost New Year's, the people who went out to work in the village gradually returned.

After each person returned, they brought back bags of gifts for their families. The next day, their wives dressed up happily and went to the town to buy things.

My mom waited and waited, hoping my dad would come back. On the night of the 29th of the lunar month, my dad finally returned.

Although my mom complained that my dad came back late, she was still excited.

But unexpectedly, my dad didn't bring back a single penny.

My mom was furious and asked him what he had been doing all this time and how he could have no money left.

My dad, lying on the bed, became impatient. "I, a grown man, have many places to spend money when I'm away from home. I need to buy cigarettes and alcohol. I buy my own clothes. Why don't you understand and sympathize with me?"

Hearing my dad's words, my mom became even angrier. "Look at other people. They go out to work just like you, and when they come back, they buy things for their wives and children. They even bring back money. But you, after working for half a year, you eat and drink yourself fat and bring back nothing. Who are you being responsible to?"

My dad, displeased, jumped up from the bed and shouted, "Money, money, money! That's all you care about. Are you obsessed with money? You're just a debtor!"

After speaking, he took out a few banknotes from his pocket, threw them on the bed, and left.

My mom picked up the money and counted it, grumbling, "After working for half a year, only two hundred yuan is left. Why am I so unlucky..."

I held my brother and didn't dare to make a sound.

But I understood in my heart that this year wouldn't be a peaceful one.

Indeed, my intuition was right.

In the evening, my mom asked me to go to my grandmother's house and bring my dad home for dinner.

When I went out, I met a child from the same village. He was holding several bags of snacks and eating them while boasting to me, "Chen Jingjing, your dad is really generous."

I was stunned, looking at him without understanding.

The boy proudly showed off the snacks in hisbags and said, "Look, all of these were given to me by your dad. He said he bought them for his children."

I felt a strange mix of emotions—anger, embarrassment, and confusion.

I quickly ran to my grandmother's house and found my dad sitting there, chatting and laughing with his friends.

I tugged at his sleeve and asked, "Dad, why did you buy snacks for that boy and not for me and my brother?"

My dad looked at me, seemingly surprised, and said, "Oh, I just thought he would appreciate them more."

I couldn't hold back my tears any longer and cried, "What about me? Don't you love me and my brother?"

My dad's expression changed, and he said, "Of course I love you both. Don't cry."

But those words couldn't comfort me. I couldn't understand why my dad would buy snacks for a stranger's child but not for his own.

I returned home and confronted my mom about it. She sighed and said, "Your dad has always been like this. He cares more about his reputation and what others think of him. He wants to appear generous and caring in front of others."

As time went on, my parents' arguments continued, and my dad's behavior became more erratic.

He would come home late at night, sometimes drunk, and create a ruckus. My mom would try to calm him down, but it would only make him angrier.

I often hid in my room with my brother, praying that the fighting would stop.

One day, when I was 13, my dad didn't come home at all. My mom was worried sick and asked the neighbors if they had seen him.

They said they saw him leaving with another woman the previous night.

My mom broke down in tears, and I couldn't console her.

Days turned into weeks, and my dad didn't return.

My mom had to take on odd jobs to support us. She worked tirelessly, but it was never enough.

I saw the exhaustion and pain in her eyes, and I couldn't bear it.

Eventually, my dad sent a divorce letter through a friend.

My mom cried for days, feeling betrayed and abandoned.

But with time, she picked herself up and became stronger.

She focused on providing for me and my brother, working even harder to give us a better life.

As I grew older, I realized that my dad's actions were not a reflection of my worth or my gender.

His behavior was a result of his own issues and insecurities.

I learned to separate his actions from my self-worth and began to value myself for who I am.

My mom became my role model, showing me the strength and resilience of a single mother.

She taught me the importance of self-love and pursuing my dreams.

Today, I stand tall as a confident and independent individual, grateful for the lessons I learned from my challenging childhood.

I know now that my worth is not defined by anyone else's opinion or actions.