Twitter fights ensue. Memes on Instagram are sure to pop up. Someone’s facebook status calls out someone else for being a “hater”.
Father’s Day.
Before I begin, I have to share that I have a wonderful relationship with my father. He’s my twin. In fact, there are very few places I can go in Brooklyn without being snatched up with that “Oh, yes you look just like your father, okay behave” line. My most cherished memories are of us sitting in the basement, watching Little Rascals. It is there where I was introduced to viewing all media, all art, as identity-texts. Y’all know Buckwheat’s character aint EEEEM right. I digress.
In any case, I think it’s important for me to acknowledge that my relationship with my father is the context through which I write. I’m claiming that. And if what I am about to say sounds ignorant or fluffy, understand that I told you from jump who I am. That’s what you’re supposed to do in identity work…
Each year, I get anxious on social media. It began with the facebook statuses that thanked single moms for doing the job their fathers couldn’t. And then to retort, the folks with fathers started calling out the other side, saying they need to “let real men have Father’s Day”… And then somehow that turned into a slew of articles with the Father’s Day lens, usually asking “Can the Black Community Celebrate Father’s Day?”. And then some pundit starts talking about how fatherhood was stolen from us during the era of slavery, and that it is not culturally valued to have two parents in the home (not entirely correct, this would be the version of history that lacks content and context. HistoryBeta)
All of these things, all of these feelings, all of these words are not necessarily untrue. I don’t think the issue is about Father’s Day, or even about social media. I think this is about the ways that I’m noticing Black folks’ imagination of themselves.
Father’s Day is the moment when we get a chance to reflect on the structure of the Black American family. It’s when we take a moment, look at the Father’s Day Experience that American Consumer Culture wants us to have, and then we compare our lives to that standard. Oh, you aren’t going to a Father’s Day sale at Macy’s? Oh, you don’t need to buy your father that new lawn mower he’s been begging for? Well damn. What kind of terrible life it must be to be Black.
That’s what they WANT you to think. But let me tell you what it really is.
There are Single Black moms. There are also Single White moms. There are many Single Divorced White moms. There are White moms who never intended on raising kids with a partner. There are White moms who don’t believe in marriage. There are also Single Asian moms. There are many Single Divorced Asian moms. There are Asian moms who never intended on raising kids with a partner. There are Asian moms who don’t believe in marriage…. Please tell me you’re catching a pattern.
The reality is that here in America, we have a permutation of possible family structures. The true thing of concern is not that there are families without fathers, but that there are fathers without families. Even worse? Women are more likely to work jobs that pay less, and in this, the feminization of poverty strikes female-headed households even more dangerously. But will I sit here and demonize the woman who’s living just enough for the city? Nope. Because patriarchy is a mugg. Shorties be out here doing what they can, and this world just makes it harder.
I understand the frustration and the concern. I am also frustrated and concerned. But demonizing Black women for doing what must be done is not the way. It’s also probably not the best idea to bash dads either.
I just hope that at some point, we can move our discourse and our disgust from this. There are many things to be angry about. You dislike female-headed households? Cool. Tell me that it’s because economically, America is not set up for this type of household to “prosper”, and that you have committed yourself to making this world a better place for Women. Telling me that it’s important for a boy to “see a man to be a man” is not enough. That meme devalues the roles of women who have raised strong men, and it also assumes that all parent-partners are heterosexual. Let’s be real here.
I suppose more than anything, I worry that days like these bring out the self-flagellating tendencies. That we beat ourselves up for not matching a prescribed standard of existence. What’s worse is that this happens in the public forum. I will never forget the way I felt when I heard President Obama say “Every kid cannot aspire to be the next LeBron or Lil Wayne”. I agreed. I felt him. He was right.
But then I wondered… Whose kids was he talking about?
Somewhere in Farmington, CT, some lil’ Brad is driving around in his parents car jamming to “UOENO”. Somewhere in Bed-Stuy, some lil’ Jamal is riding the B44 jamming to “UOENO”. Who’s wrong?
(I’m not arguing that Black folks go out and do rachet stuff just because White folks do it too. That can get you into trouble. We all know how the justice system [mis]treats those who have been kissed by the Sun)
The argument is this: We have to stop demonizing the WHO, and instead, question the WHAT.
(This is the point in the program where we make a reference to white privilege and we all remind ourselves that everybody can’t do everything. That’s what a privilege is. The ability to do and be what you choose.)
Ultimately, this day and other holidays are perfect times to be reflective of how we treat our brothers and sisters. Do we reach out to the coworker whose father has passed? Do we invite a friend to our brunch? Do we share love with the world? Or do we funk it up by being stank? Do we take the time to proactively thank the Father Figures of this world? Think about the custodian who allowed you into your office building earlier than usual, or the bus driver who frequently lets you onto his bus even when you don’t have enough on your metrocard, or the chef at school who always made sure you had a double portion of meat on your sandwich and never charged you extra for it (thanks Al). Again, I don’t know what it’s like to not have a father, and so this may read as someone who’s prescriptively bossing this world into “getting over it”. That’s not the intent.
I just believe that if there was more love in this world, more unrestrained, unbridled, unwavering, unconditional love… This place would feel sweeter. It would taste richer. Like Dad’s turkey burgers. Grilled pineapple on top.
