LSU community, I write to you today not to educate you on a matter of sexual health, not to shed light on an event of oppression, but to share with you the wonderful news that I have uncovered.
Today, I join the ranks of Natasha and Malia Obama and Barbara and Jenna Bush. I am a president’s daughter.
In the early 1990s, University President F. King Alexander was short on funds during a trip to New Orleans, so he donated to The Fertility Institute, a local sperm bank. Months later, a divorcee, my mother, would choose the educated and handsome donor’s sperm to help her conceive what she has called the “greatest plot twist” of her life.
You may call him an educator, a leader or a public servant. I call him Dad.
I’m not sure how it went undiscovered all of these years — the blue eyes, the height, the love of political commentary and the name “King” in common — looking back, it was obvious. But of course, I needed to be sure.
A few weeks ago, while Alexander joined Gov. Bobby Jindal for a personal lunch, I snuck past the student workers in the LSU System Office and recovered a few hairs from the floor of his office.
I received a home paternity test from the Student Health Center, an excellent program funded by Louisiana taxpayers. The first few hairs I tested were inconclusive, and I assume I had picked up a few hairs from Mike, as Alexander is rumored to play fetch with the Bengal on the occasional afternoon.
But sure enough, on the third try, I saw the little blue plus sign that could only mean one thing.
I’d found my father.
I immediately called F. King’s office to let him know. The student worker who took my message made a remark that he was sick of getting these calls from students claiming to be related to the president just before finals each semester.
Apparently, my father had been short on funds a few more times than his December 1993 trip to New Orleans.
I’ve called back numerous times in an effort to show my father I am committed to establishing an open and honest relationship with him. Determination is a character trait I inherited from him, along with the devastatingly good looks, no doubt.
My second call was to my mother. She was elated, happy to no longer shoulder the emotional and financial burden of a child in college on a teacher’s salary.
“Maybe you can get a job in his office and stop asking me to pay for your Netflix subscription,” she said.
When I shared the news with my friends and coworkers at The Daily Reveille, they joined me first in laughter and then in celebration. They simply couldn’t believe it.
I pleaded with the editor in chief, Kevin Thibodeaux, assuring him that this story is one of inspiration for the millions of now-college students who were conceived during the 1990s sperm bank baby boom. This is not only a University matter, but a matter of the heart.
The story of a struggling college sophomore finding not just a home, but a father when she goes off to school is one that I am sure will be a box office hit. As far as a movie deal, obviously I would play myself, and Kevin Spacey would play my father.
I look forward to sitting down with my father, catching up on the past 19 years that we have spent apart. I know he is a busy man and may not have caught all of the columns I have written in the past two semesters. Luckily, I have a copy of all 52 of them, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to read them now.
I have been patiently waiting outside of his office each day before and after class with a “#1 Dad” mug and a smile on my face. I hope to soon reunite with the man who helped make me, and who continues to make LSU a remarkable institution of higher education.
Jana King is the totally the actual daughter of University President F. King Alexander in real life.