53 bikers showed up in suits when school said fatherless girls couldn’t attend the daddy-daughter dance,

“Ladies, I want you to listen to me. Tonight, you might not have had your real daddies here. But you had fifty-three men who think you’re the most special girls in the world. And I want you to remember something.”

He paused, his voice cracking.

“You are worthy of love. You are worthy of someone showing up for you. You are not less than any other girl because your situation is different. You are princesses. Every single one of you. And don’t let anyone ever make you feel otherwise.”

The girls rushed him. Forty-seven little girls hugging fifty-three bikers in a massive group embrace. Everyone was crying. The bikers. The girls. The parents. The teachers. Everyone.

That was four years ago. The Jefferson Elementary Daddy-Daughter Dance now has an official partnership with the Iron Warriors MC. Every year, bikers show up in suits to escort fatherless girls. The waiting list of volunteers is now over two hundred names long.

Robert still picks Sita up for the dance every year. She’s twelve now. Too cool for most things. But never too cool for her “biker daddy.”

Last year, she asked him why he keeps coming back. Why he spends money on suits and corsages for a girl who isn’t his.

His answer made both of us cry.

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