The day before Father’s Day, my wife and I were at Publix (where shopping is a pleasure of course), when I had one of the most pleasant encounters with a cashier. It simultaneously reminded me why I love my community and also how low the expectations for dads still remain.
As we stepped up to the register our cashier, a Black woman with a sunny expression and commanding voice beamed, if you’re a father, Happy Father’s Day! It’s a shame though how we treat the dads. Look at this place, they’re not showing y’all any love. If this was Mother’s Day, it would be packed with people getting flowers and cards. After I thanked her and told her that I was in fact a father of four daughters, she congratulated me again, though this time she seemed even more impressed.
She went on to share about how she currently lives with her son, helping him and his wife raise their daughter. We both remarked how important it is to have a village around. We’ve definitely benefited from my mother in law and sisters living very close while we’ve raised our daughters. Then she continued, we’ve got to do better and show y’all more love. I mean, fathers have stepped up these past 20 years. The past 20 years huh? I wonder what’s changed? And even if dads are “getting better”, apparently not enough yet to warrant a rush of people at Publix on the day before Father’s Day. And that’s when I was reminded of the universally lower bar our society has for dads. There’s an old phrase, momma’s baby, daddy’s maybe that perfectly captures our collective cynicism.
I get it, I really do. I myself was largely raised by a single mom. Though I had important male role models at key stages of my life, I didn’t have my father present with me during my adolescent years and while the healing is going, those scars still remain. Honestly, my own experience is a big part of why fatherhood has been so important to me.. And being a father of daughters? To me, there’s nothing more important in the world; and my decisions and time reflect this commitment. So, yeah, I can understand why society in general downplays the role of fathers. But as most things are, it’s more complicated than just saying dads just aren’t up to the task.
What I appreciated most though about the encounter at the grocery store was meeting an obviously proud mom of the way her young son is stepping up into fatherhood. She was doing that wonderful thing that Black women tend to do, which is unconditionally showing up for the men in their lives. I’ve felt that energy myself as a young dad. I remember when the girls were very little, and if it was me solo with them, at the bookstore or grocery store, or really anywhere in public, I got so much attention. You’re such a good father. Look at you with your beautiful girls! One of them could be screaming at the top of her lungs while the other three were running circles around the cereal aisle (which never happened by the way… not on my watch!), but it wouldn’t matter. All they saw was a Black dad defying the stereotype.
If I’m being honest, I appreciated it at first. It was an ego boost during a time when I genuinely questioned myself. Am I doing this right? How will I even know? But over the years, it started to feel… condescending? Like, I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do right? Also, ask my wife, or any mom for that matter if they receive the same kind of response and offers to help when they’re caring for kids in public. I can tell you the answer is likely a resounding, no. In fact, most people probably are thinking, why can’t this woman control her kids.
I came across an article recently entitled, How American Dads Became the Parents Their Fathers Never Were. The subtitle was: Compared to their parents, Millennial fathers have roughly tripled the amount of time they spend with kids. The new American dad is more present and more exhausted—but also, more satisfied with life. Reading through the ways dads have stepped up, a lot of it resonated with me, from taking on more household chores, attending doctor’s appointments, playtime, etc. But the article also noted that moms still carry significantly more of the parenting load, and dads’ participation tends to drop off in proportion to how stressful the activity is.
I’ve seen that play out in my own house. It wasn’t until recently that I took one of the girls to a dentist appointment solo. I mean, I’ve been there before with Samantha and the girls, but this was the first time on my own. They asked me so many questions, and I was like… ask my daughter? We survived, and as usual I definitely have a deeper appreciation for the additional cognitive labor my wife does to keep our household running.
So we’ve stepped up, but why?
If I go back to my own origin story, a lot of it has to do with wanting to heal my own childhood wounds. (Somewhere my therapist is nodding along). But expectations are shifting too, and that’s a genuinely good thing. It’s simply no longer acceptable to be the bumbling dad who checks out at the hard parts.
Every week I hoop with a group of dads, some of whom bring their young kids to hang out and play while we’re playing. Those kids get to watch their dads laughing, competing, and being human with each other, modeling what healthy adult male friendships actually look like. When the girls were younger, I used to lead a Saturday dads book club at the library where young Black dads like myself could gather with our kids away from the gaze of everyone else in the world and just enjoy reading a book with our kids. I think we’re doing these types of things not only because we know it makes a difference for our kids, but also because it’s changing our own lives.
And that’s what fatherhood does, it changes you. It forces you to reckon with consequences of your own decisions. It makes you consider what really matters. And then, when you’re ready, fatherhood becomes the way you intentionally build a legacy.
SDW3
everyday fatherhood 