“Father” doesn't come with a clear and concise job description. The major and minor responsibilities of being a father vary depending on the family situation. But Father's Day will be celebrated, or at least recognized, this weekend. And rightly so. Because, simply put, fathers matter.
Still, fatherhood isn't easy.
Fathers are not easily identifiable by appearance. They appear as bus drivers, postal workers, barbers, bankers, bartenders, etc. Some wear black robes, some blue uniforms with badges and guns, some wear orange jumpsuits and are handcuffed.
Fathers are everywhere: in political parties, homeless camps, newsrooms. Back in the day, enough Washington Post editorial staffers could have started a “Grandpas Club,” of which I was a founding member. There's value in living a long life. Fatherhood is certainly not the exclusive domain of any particular racial, religious, or ethnic group.
But there were also special secular moments that highlighted the role of fathers in society, like when, on October 16, 1995, a crowd of black men gathered on the National Mall for the Million Man March, pledging to “accept the responsibility God has given us to be good husbands, good fathers and community builders.” I watched as the men embraced each other in an unashamed display of brotherhood, as speaker after speaker elicited a pledge to “take greater responsibility to our families and communities.”
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Regardless of how a father earns his title, every father who makes a difference in his children's lives deserves a day on the calendar.
But Father's Day in 2024 will be different than it was decades ago. Once upon a time, most children, white and black, lived with both parents from their first marriage. Today, marriage rates are declining. More children live in single-parent homes. And the definition of family is expanding.
In October 1995, we reconnected with our families and vowed to be good husbands. Today, more than 70 percent of black births in Washington, DC, are to unwed mothers, as are about 55 percent of Hispanic births.
I return to this discovery because for too many children in this city, Father's Day is not a day to honor their dads. It is their mothers, grandparents, unrelated relatives, and in some cases the Washington, DC government, who raise these children to be thriving girls and boys and who serve as their protectors and pillars of strength.
To be clear, military service does separate fathers from their children. I was separated from my wife, Gwen, and young son, Rob, during my first year as an Army officer.
Some children are separated from their fathers by the painful separation of death or divorce, some fathers separated by prison walls, and some because fathers are out and about and free but have not accepted the responsibility of helping to care for their children.
While we're at it, let's dispel the stereotype that all black fathers are lazy dads. Many black fathers in this city live with their kids. Some don't have custody, but they're still involved. Many fathers find ways to stay actively involved in their kids' lives.
But I'm looking at fathers who are disappearing from home for the wrong reasons. Who are the likely victims? There's no one-size-fits-all answer. But think about the boys and girls who are not doing well in school, who have behavioral problems. Think about the kids who drop out, who run away from home, who get caught up in the juvenile justice system.
These children need a father or a father-figure, not a juvenile detention center officer or a social worker, to help them develop a firm grasp on what is right and what is wrong; to give them a moral compass to navigate the directions of good and evil.
A government can provide meals and snacks and host family events. But it can't provide people to get up early and stay up late to listen to a scared or angry child. People to offer love and support when a child is confused. People to lovingly step in and make disciplinary and motivating decisions. That's what a good father does. And he does it through good times and bad, through laughter and tears, and with love. That's something no government, no matter how rich or powerful, can provide.
Money alone cannot change a situation. My father had no money to give away, just a few quarters and dimes to buy a pint of Chocolate Ripple for our family of five to share after dinner.
We, as a family and as a couple, have never gone into a restaurant without wishing our hearts out – takeaway was the best we could do.
Ah, but Daddy would make us laugh, and sometimes squirm, and quietly listen as he prepared us for the afterlife. Oh, I loved that man.
My father, and many black fathers around the Foggy Bottom/West End area, believed wholeheartedly that we were their children, and that there was no one else in this world to raise our children but us.
And they had help from other Black father figures — the unsung heroes of Black child growth and development: coaches, police officers, Sunday School teachers, church deacons — who helped guide young Black kids in a racist Washington, D.C., city that had no respect for Black kids or the people they were trying to help.
The father figures, our fathers, didn't care about what today's jargon calls “harmful, historically rooted cultural patterns that encourage bad behavior.” We were told to “do it,” and so we did.
Why salute on Father's Day? If you're dying to ask…
