Celebrating Black Fathers Day

Strike that. If you are person interested in modern day parenting perspectives you need to hear about MyBrownBaby. The site is aimed towards people of color, by which the owner {Denene} of the site specifies as African Americans, but should be read by anyone wanting to raise children with racial sensitivities and awareness.

 

Anyway, Denene wrote a post on Father’s Day called “A Special MyBrownBaby Love Letter To Black Fathers Getting It Right”. In it she asserts her opinions of a speech given on Father’s Day 2008 by then Presidential candidate Obama, while also highlighting some of the spectacular fathers she knows personally. Denene refutes the idea of focusing on deadbeat dads on a day meant to celebrate the beauty of those “getting it right”. I won’t go into the political realm with this post. But suffice it to say that as a Political Science major, campaign worker for Obama’s Presidential Nomination campaign, and sincere lover of all things diverse, I was disappointed with his speech three years ago also, and chalked it up to political posturing {a game one’s gotta play in the world of politics, unfortunately}. 

 

Denene got tremdous backlash because of her post celebrating Black fathers, refusing to focus on those failing their children. Reading the threads of comments was shocking; everything from insulting her ability to identify herself to questioning her authority to even write on the topic of fatherless-ness.  This woman is an engaging writer that comes across as fun yet incredibly intelligent. She is highly educated, politically astute and works professionally in the media, in addition to maintaining a blog with over a thousand readers.

 

I was beside myself and could hardly sleep after reading the feedback. Denene was obviously upset, as well. As I tossed and turned, I could not understand the onslaught of anger aimed squarely at someone who chose to showcase just a few of the amazing Black fathers that are out there, in real life, supporting and raising their kids. Black fathers like MY husband. All she wanted to say is that, despite the Father’s Day speech of 2008, not all Black fathers are deadbeats. A stereotype that is reinforced throughout the media constantly.

 

The next day, Denene posted this:

On Black Fathers, the African American Image and MyBrownBaby Etiquette

 

MyBrownBaby is about the beauty, success and struggles of the African American parent. Its a forum of intelligent, amazingly inspiring voices {Black voices}. Here is an excerpt of Denene’s moving post:

And for no other reason than because she chooses to reject the negative crap {i.e. stereotypes} that my Husband has to battle every time he walks into a board room and is the only person of color, I will continue to look to MyBrownBaby as a source of inspiration in the discourse of being a person of color, raising a child of color, to the most happiest extent possible.

 

I 100% agree the issues of fatherless-ness and deadbeat dads need to be discussed. My heart hurts for single moms and have dealt with this issue on a very personal level. Perhaps the discussion should take place within the African American community, but not soley. I know of far too many deadbeat dads who are not Black. And perhaps the discourse should take place in conjunction with the alarming increase in teen pregnancies. Could those two possibly be related?

 

What isn’t related is crappy dads and amazing dads simply because they may share the same skin color. Please don’t label my amazing Husband that way.

 

Good for you, Denene! Thank you for celebrating amazing dads, like MY husband, that work their butts off to support their family. Love their children through daily nurture and guidance and exemplify on a daily basis what a real Man is.

 

 

Daddy D and I have had countless discussions on race and identity in the years before Alina was conceived. Surprise surprise, always initiated by me. I have approached him with every angle of “what if’s” or “and then what’s” I could think of. I desired to know and feel his experience as an African American man the best I could. I love him, and want to understand how his ethnicity has impacted his identity. Because although I myself am a minority, I will never pretend to know what its like to grow up as a Black man in the United States.

 

The thing about my husband, however, is that he pretty much is THE most optimistic person I know. He genuinely sees the good in people. Not that he is unaware, or blind, to the struggles his skin color presents him. Just that he does not grant it much warrant, and therefore thought, in his everyday life. This is in stark contrast to my over analytical, at {too many} times defensive, and {always} protective stance of who I am, who my husband is. And you better believe I am all those things and more when it comes to who my daughter is. Maybe that’s why my husband and I are such a good match. When I say “OMG, did you see how that lady looked at us”, his responsive is usually a simple “nope”. I love that about him.

So when the Father’s Day fiasco went down at My Brown Baby, and I wrote my subsequent post about the blogging drama, I asked my husband what it meant to him to be a Black father. His answer, in a nutshell, was “I was raised by an amazing Black dad. Its all I know, all I’ll ever know. I just want Alina to be happy and provided for, like all good Dads want”.

As a wife and mother, that assertion was more than enough. The strength and confidence in his identity gives my ever-doubting state of mind a solid peace on which to rest my life. But, the thinker in me wanted more; a better understanding to what I knew, undoubtedly, had an impact on how a man parents their child. In a moment’s time, I knew where the next stop would be on this thinking train.

I met Jermaine many years ago, when we were both young and working feverishly for a nonprofit servicing “at-risk youth”, who are some of the coolest kids I’ve ever met. Jermaine now works as a Marriage and Family Therapist and blogs at A Beautiful Mess. Jermaine is a wonderful person and an amazing father. Thank you for contributing to my Personal Identity Project, my dear friend!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Being a black father holds a duality that I am very used to.  In my life, there has always been “Jermaine”, and then the awareness that I’m “Black Jermaine”.  At school, work, or other social settings, it’s been necessary to have a black filter.  A question that comes up often in my busy mind is “what should I not say when a police officer pulls me over?”  Or, “is this outfit professional enough for a black man?”  These are issues that my son may experience one day.  Granted, there are things that are universal to fatherhood.  However, there are also things specific to being a black father.

 

 

For me, being a father is about the everyday moments that people don’t see.  It’s more about the grunt work of parenting, such as preparing meals, giving baths, playtime, nursing scrapes and ailments, and being a disciplinarian- the bad guy.  Like many fathers, I value the conversations on the ride to and from daycare, and the walks around the neighborhood.  These are the simple things that are so important in building the relationship with my son.  I appreciate the admiration from those who see a black man at the zoo with his son, but fatherhood is not for show.  Many folks see this as a novelty, due to the many stereotypes about absentee black fathers.  This is just one of many stereotypes that my son will have to face in his life as a black man.

 

 

As a black father, I feel the need to prepare my son for a world that has often been unkind to black folks.  However, I have to be careful not to impose my experience onto him.  Even though he was born during a time when a black man was elected president, I still worry about how the world will treat him. I think about the stereotypes that still exist, such as all black men being athletes, rappers, criminals, violent, sexually aggressive…I’ll stop here.  I worry about how he will handle the micro-aggressions, which are the more common form of racism in the post-civil rights era.  Micro-aggressions are the subtle racial slights that are often unintentional, but sting nonetheless (“wow Jermaine, you speak so well!”). Also, he may encounter internalized racism from within the black community. The reality is that I will not be able to shield him from this.  As a black father my duty is not only to guide my son, but to also instill a sense of identity that will hopefully armor his pride.  This begins with his name.

 

I believe that people take on the characteristics of their names.  My son was given my middle name, Rashad, which means “wisdom”, “good judgment”, or “right guidance” in Arabic.  My hope is that with guidance from his mom and dad, he grows into a wise, well adjusted man.  I also wanted him to have a name that represents him as a black man.  When his teacher is taking attendance on the first day of school, I’d like for him to be proud of his name.  No offense, but the names “Timothy” or “James” could easily be a black kid, or a white kid.  No mistakes will be made about who Rashad is.  He will be the handsome, brown skinned kid, with the million dollar smile.