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No One Here Is Like Me: Race, Family, and Fatherhood

No One Here Is Like Me: Race, Family, and Fatherhood

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No One Here Is Like Me: Race, Family, and Fatherhood

4.5/5 (8 ratings)
60 pages
58 minutes
Sep 14, 2022

Editor's Note

Biracial parenting advice…

In this Scribd Original, King, a writer-comedian and a dad, relays formative moments in his life when being both Black and white made him feel like he didnʼt belong (“If the ʻBlack cardʼ was a real thing, mine would only work at certain stores”), and how these experiences inform his outlook on parenting. Donʼt worry: There are plenty of dad jokes throughout.


“What are you?” 

Growing up in the 90s, Robert King heard this all the time. “I’m biracial,” he’d respond, as his family suggested he should. But that answer satisfied no one—least of all himself. In this humorous and intimate memoir, King reflects on defining moments in his life as a mixed-race man in America.

Since becoming a parent, these pivotal and often painful moments, have taken on new meaning for King. Imposter syndrome, otherness, code-switching, and loneliness are all things King is familiar with—and worries about for his sons. Like any parent, King wants his children to have a much easier time than he did. 

From teaching his kids to be their most authentic selves to modeling healthy relationships, King hopes to provide the necessary tools that will guide his sons on a different path than the one he had to endure. Most importantly, he stresses the importance of being loving and present so he can catch them when they fall.

Through therapy, self-reflection, and even in speaking with President Obama, King sees his experiences in a new light. The result? No One Here Is Like Me is an illuminating window into the biracial experience with golden parenting insights. 

In a series of anecdotes and reflections, King sprinkles humor through traumatic experiences that might seem all-too-familiar for anyone who is biracial. Laden with playful dad jokes, King  makes tough topics easier to swallow. No One Here Is Like Me is a moving story and hits home for those who have felt as though they don’t belong.

Sep 14, 2022

About the author

Robert King is a Los Angeles – based comedian who is currently writing on ABC's The Chase. Prior to that, Rob wrote for Leslie Jones on Supermarket Sweep, and he was the co-head writer for Hulu's Up Early Tonight, a late-night show for moms hosted by Abbi Crutchfield. Rob was an NBC Diversity showcase award winner in 2019, he plays a supporting character in the independent feature Can You Keep a Secret opposite Alexandra Daddario, and he plays multiple roles in Billy Crystal's Audible play Have a Nice Day. Previously, Robert was a writer for Lorne Michaels’s Above Average and the host of the popular web series Your Biggest Fan. Additionally, his half-hour scripts have been featured in the Austin Film Festival, New York Television Festival, and the Hollywood Screenplay Contest.

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No One Here Is Like Me - Robert King


I started seeing a psychologist, Dr. Thomas, when I was seven years old, because I had behavioral issues. Even at seven, I was aware enough to know what it meant to be seeing a psychologist and to be embarrassed that my parents were making me go to one. I thought I had done something wrong – or, worse, that something was wrong with me. For more than a year, my mom would drive me a few times a month into New Brunswick, New Jersey. (Easily one of the top five Brunswicks New Jersey has to offer.)

Dr. Thomas was a tall Black woman with a light Jamaican accent whom I found fascinating… and extremely intimidating. She was soft-spoken and calm, and just listened to me. I remember going into our sessions thinking to myself, I’m not telling her nothin’! We had HBO in my house, and all the inappropriate movies I had watched up to that point had taught me that snitches get stitches.

She wasn’t getting anything out of me. Somehow, though, either by her Jedi mind trickery or my seven-year-old’s lack of willpower, I started talking. I don’t even know if I told Dr. Thomas what was actually going on in my head, because honestly, I highly doubt I was able to effectively convey what I was thinking at that age. But she made me feel so good; it was nice to talk and be heard. During those visits, I sat in a room with a grown-up, a Black grown-up – which was rare for me at that point in my life – and I got to be myself. I could be honest, make jokes, or be silly without worrying if I was being judged. (I mean, she kind of was judging me, in a way. Otherwise, what the hell was she being paid for? But it did at least feel like she wasn’t judging me at my core.) During those brief visits, the pressure was off, and it was exactly what I needed.

I haven’t talked to Dr. Thomas since that time I visited her as a child, but I do go to therapy now, as an adult. It took a while to realize that talking to someone doesn’t necessarily mean something’s wrong with you or that you’ve lost the game. It’s simply an acknowledgement that life is hard. Because it is in fact really, really hard, and maybe sharing even just a little bit of ourselves with others can help. So this is me, sharing myself with you.

A wise man (actor Bradley Cooper) once said that becoming a parent accelerates your work on yourself, because you want to not infect them with the crap you don’t have figured out. The American Sniper hit the bull’s-eye with that one.

When my first son, Quincy, was born, it really forced me to admit to myself that I had some unresolved issues with, well, many things – family and where I came from were big ones. I’ve had issues with identity my entire life, and looking at my little boy – this vulnerable tiny human – was a warning signal telling me that if I didn’t hurry up and clear some space on my hard drive, I might not have the room to help him through whatever stuff he encountered on his journey. If I didn’t step up and figure myself out, the odds were good that I wasn’t going to be able to be who he needed me to be.

I have two kids now, two boys, and though I’m still working on myself, every day I feel less and less like I’m going to infect them with my crap. Crap like feeling as if I’m never good enough, that no one can relate to me, or that I’ve got to figure life out on my own. Those overwhelming thoughts, they still pop up from time to time. But I’ve learned how to talk through them instead of hiding. Confronting them, and not letting them control me or totally wipe me out, has helped me be… better. A better husband, a better friend, and a better father. I hope. I mean, I think these things are true, but who knows? All I’m sure of is that Dr. Thomas would be so proud of me today. And that feels pretty good.

1. Raise Your Hand If You’re Black

It started with a seemingly innocent question during circle time at my toddler’s nursery school.

"Do we have anyone in our class who is Black?" the teacher asked.

It was a late February day, and the kids were getting in their last few lessons about Black history before the recycled pictures of Jackie Robinson and Rosa Parks went back into the closet until next year. I happened to be there that morning, volunteering to help read books to the class. After a few hours of being forced to pretend I was a

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  • (5/5)
    A beautiful and hilarious journey about identity, parenting, and healing.
  • (5/5)
    Through all of the turbulence, the heart and humor of the author shine through. This is a tale of race and relationships that culminates in what it truly means to be a father.