A student once told me about the first time she met her father. She was eight and at some type of flea market. A man she didn’t recognize was standing in line, and her mother said, “That’s your father. Go speak to him.”
They approached the man, the buzz of shopping adults created a dizzying experience for my student. She doesn’t remember what her parents said to each other, but she remembers her mother nudging her forward and hissing, “Say something!”
My student couldn’t think of anything to say, and so, still being vexed by the whole situation, wrapped her arms around him.
The stranger took far too long to return the hug. The student is now 16, and it is still the only memory of her father in her possession. She still thinks about him though. She still ponders what could have been and what can be. I’ve only known the student for a couple of years, and she’s brought him up multiple times, a man she has known for only a moment.
The impact of fathers, and the absence of them, can sometimes be understated. I’m guilty of doing this myself despite most of my life decisions stemming from my father’s unintentional influence.
It is so easy to dismiss fatherhood because of the unique role it plays in mainstream society. These issues are compounded when we look at Black fatherhood.
What makes a good Black father?
I recently watched two interviews with Dr. Cheyenne Bryant, a psychology expert and life coach. She spoke to celebrities Nick Cannon and Cam Newton about fatherhood.
Both men are notorious for having multiple children with multiple women with no desire to slow down. If asked, they would describe themselves as good fathers.
Financially, their kids want for nothing. If their kids need to talk or be reprimanded, they are only a phone call away. According to Akon, another celebrity with 9 children, if a child needs to see them, they have FaceTime.
Are they good fathers? It may depend on how you personally view fatherhood.
Fences, a play by Austin Wilson, presents the character Troy, the hardworking father in the play, as a paragon of Black fatherhood. For many Black men, for many Black people, this is what they see as a good father despite the themes of the play being critical of Troy.
In the play, Troy’s son asks why his father never liked him.
Troy responds by saying, “Like you? I go out of here every morning… bust my butt… putting up with them crackers every day… cause I like you? You about the biggest fool I ever saw. (Pause.) It’s my job. It’s my responsibility! You understand that? A man got to take care of his family. You live in my house… sleep you behind on my bedclothes… fill you belly up with my food… cause you my son. You my flesh and blood. Not ’cause I like you! Cause it’s my duty to take care of you.”
Troy says, “I ain’t got to like you,” because he doesn’t view it as his job or duty as a man. As long as he is financially providing, he is a good father. It is the mother’s job to like the children. It is the mother’s job to be emotionally available. It is her job to be present.
Nick Cannon, Cam Newton, and many others would agree with this. “My kids are taken care of,” is a constant retort when men are questioned about siring so many kids.
The bar is set pretty low for fathers, especially Black fathers in America. According to the Pew Research Center, there is a correlation between race and if a father is present in the home. Black fathers statistically are less likely to be in the home.
Of course, there are also correlations between education levels and economic status. It would also be disingenuous if we didn’t point out how systemic racism disproportionately puts Black men in prisons and out of the home.
Imitating the clear gender roles set in place by white standards also plays a part in the low bar. The man is supposed to work and the woman is supposed to do the emotional lifting and child rearing. The problem with this, especially in today’s economy, is the need for both parents to work.
I know so many women who get the kids ready for school, go to work, come home, cook dinner, help with homework, and clean while dad just works. This causes tension in the home because they are both trying to fit into archaic gender norms, but the workload is unevenly distributed.
Black masculinity
It is a new school year, and with a new school year comes a new group of students using gay as a slur. Specifically, it is my Black students who use it whenever someone dares break away from traditionally masculine norms. I even had a student already use the “f” slur.
The media may present Black people as liberal and woke, but I am in the trenches with the children. They are still talking the same way I talked in 1996.
It is a long, slow process to eliminate the language from their vocabulary in my class. I can only assume this language is accepted by their parents and even other teachers before me.
This kid likes the WNBA. Sure, call him gay.
This one shows softness when telling his girlfriend how much he cares about her in front of his friends. Sounds pretty queer!
Of course, masculinity and sexuality exist together on many spectrums, but not to these kids who are constantly trying to prove their masculinity. This takes shape in a few forms, the most problematic being a suppression of emotions, a glorification of violence, and an unhealthy relationship with women.
Suppression of emotions
One thing Dr. Bryant reveals in her interviews is the necessity for therapy and doing “the work” to grow. She describes Nick Cannon and Cam Newton as low-functioning men. This is partially due to their emotional immaturity. Society pressures men to avoid the emotional work. We are so trained to disregard it from a young age that we have trouble progressing even when we realize it is logical and necessary to do so.
When talking to Dr. Bryant, Nick becomes defensive or turns to jokes whenever the topic gets too heavy. Anger and humor are not vulnerable emotions, so they are acceptable.
I once spoke to a woman who wanted her husband to be emotionally available for her. During our discussion, I asked her how she would feel if her husband wanted to talk about his own emotions on a regular basis. Would she be okay if he cried in front of her? She decided she would just find female friends instead of having an emotional husband.
I respect her honest response, and she isn’t the only one. I’ve asked many Black women about this when originally considering this topic. About eight out of ten women agreed they did not want to see their man being emotional consistently.
(Important side note: Some men who have suppressed their emotions their entire lives try to dump everything on their partner. This is not healthy, and they should seek out therapy as a positive outlet.)
Violence
In my school, girls fight over boys. It is usually very public and very embarrassing for all the girls involved (This is an issue for another day.). Boys fight over masculinity. They fight over their place in the social hierarchy.
In most cases, they meet somewhere without teachers and fight until someone is clearly defeated. These fights usually spur due to perceived disrespect. This can be something as small as trash talk on the basketball court to stealing someone’s bag of chips.
Every fight isn’t honorable, of course. Gangs are also an issue in my school, although it is not nearly as bad as many schools in the United States. However, if the conflict spills into the streets, fair fights are thrown out the door. Guns and death are introduced.
Gangs, for many kids, are still about obtaining masculine status. There is a sense of safety and strength, two words most women used when I asked them to describe masculinity. Two words I think men at least subconsciously consider when thinking about the term.
Unhealthy relationship with women
Growing up, I always heard the catchphrase, “Gotta catch’em all.” At first, it was a loving reference to Pokemon, but it quickly became a disgusting reference to women. I was never as all in as my peers, but I made plenty of decisions driven by masculine expectations rather than my personal desires.
Modern times didn’t bring change. I have a group of boys who argue almost every day over who has more girls. They debate over which of them is more attractive. I guess they use the number of girls to confirm this. (Yes, I’ve noticed the more men try to prove how heteronormative and masculine they are, the gayer they seem. Andrew Tate once said the straightest thing a man can do is have sex with a man.)
Adult men take this a step further, somehow believing the number of kids they have confirms their masculinity. I spoke to an older gentleman about this who described it as a “need to spread our seed.” It is pretty gross and goes back to Dr. Bryant’s idea of a low-functioning man.
It seems the key to becoming high-functioning is breaking away from the traditional aspects of masculinity holding us back from engaging with our flaws and emotional immaturity.
Can we, as men, truly look at the state of the world, look in the mirror, and say creating children by multiple women is the best goal? (There are so many different types of families, and this is not an indictment on them. This is a critique of those who claim to seek this as a goal.)
Daddy issues
I got daddy issues, that’s on me
Lookin’ for, “I love you, “ rarely empathizin’ for my relief
A child that grew accustomed, jumping up when I scraped my knee
’Cause if I cried about it, he’d surely tell me not to be weak
Daddy issues, hid my emotions, never expressed myself
Man should never show feelings, being sensitive never helped
His mama died, I asked him why he goin’ back to work so soon?
His first reply was, “Son, that’s life, and bills got no silver spoon”
Daddy issues, fuck everybody, go get your money, son
Protect yourself, trust nobody, only your mama’n’em
This made relationships seem cloudy, never attached to none
So if you took some likings around me, I might reject the love
These lyrics are from Kendrick Lamar’s “Father Time.” I first heard the song in bed. It starts with Kendrick’s wife encouraging him to go to therapy. Although I didn’t catch every line on the first listen, my body had a visceral reaction, forcing me to get out of bed and take a break from the album.
When my brother listened to the song a week or so later, he messaged me and asked if it “put me in my feelings.” For context, last time I wished my brother a happy birthday he said, “That’s some gen-z gay shit”, so this message about this song was an emotional connection.
It resonates because this is something a lot of Black men feel deep down, but they don’t feel comfortable expressing it.
Although my father was only in my life for a violent ten years, the lessons discussed in this song were impressed upon me by every older Black male in my family. My uncles and cousins caused me physical and mental anguish every opportunity to “toughen me up.”
They did. I can’t cry. I am there for everyone, but I never show my weakness to anyone. I’m everyone’s friend, but no one knows me enough to be my friend. The people who read my work regularly know me better than the people in the real world.
Don’t get me wrong. I am the happiest person I know, but this song and research over the last few years helped me understand why I’m mentally in this place.
Unfortunately, I know other men in similar situations who cope in unhealthy ways. I know men, older than me, who still value their worth based on financial status and the number of women “in their rotation”. Although most won’t consciously admit it, they feel they can’t be loved through their pain and flaws.
Chris Rock, a comedian, once said, “Only women, children, and dogs are loved unconditionally, men are only loved under the condition they provide something.” I’ve known enough mooches in my life to know this is not true, but for a lot of men, it still feels true.
My dad
My dad was an alcoholic, abusive crackhead, and outside of the violent moments, I still loved him. Most of that love faded by the time I was ten, but I still carried his unintentional lessons.
However, my goal in life was to be the opposite of him in any way that mattered. I’m not sure if this played into me seeking out less traditionally masculine activities, but I remember consciously thinking as a teenager this is the type of stuff my father would do.
I especially remember the cognitive dissonance I experienced when turning down sexual opportunities with women. One part of me felt the need to act due to masculine expectations and the other part of me feared becoming a “dog” like the rest of the men in my family. Ironically, the decisions rarely came down to my own sexual desires.
Black men are in a unique place in society. We have access to power as men but lack the real power associated with whiteness. It leaves a lot of us seeking power in unhealthy ways while also not being aware of the power we wield.
No group is a monolith, but we are connected by living in a systemically racist patriarchy. I think we can all agree that Black men should do better, but society also needs to do better.
This post originally appeared on Medium and is edited and republished with author's permission. Read more of LG Ware's work on Medium.
Comments
Leave a comment