The most prevalent examples of fatherhood tend to be built around the same story. It’s one about lazy, uninvolved, and at its worst, abusive dads. These often come accompanied by complaints about men not taking on their fair share of the physical and mental load of parenting. These stories of weaponized incompetence fill pages and pages of books, magazines and social media. Rarely do these tales offer corrective advice or give solutions.

Meanwhile, the handful of positive stories about fatherhood that have made headlines in recent generations tend to center on people later discredited or found disreputable (hello, Bill Cosby!) or sports stars who are gone from home half the year. Not that you’d find even these or any stories about dads in parenting publications and websites — unless, of course, it’s related to that one day in June.

It can be quite refreshing when fathers are ignored, though. For a minute, we can at least imagine we are part of the parenting world. The quiet doesn’t last long, though. Soon, more words are written. Did you hear about fathers who go on fishing trips with the boys and — wait — they end up in a strip club? And the question that is asked, if one ever is, is this: Why are all fathers like this?

That’s where I want to push back.

Dads need support, inspiring examples

Richard Reeves of the American Institute of Boys and Men has written much about the issues our gender faces. (His Substack is fascinating. He also wrote the book Of Boys and Men which is also a great read.) One of his many concerns is the lack of environments where boys can exist and learn from each other. But not as some “old boys’ network” of the past, but as a new way forward. Somewhere young males can develop their emotional intelligence and build friendships. Sounds great, right?

Another upcoming book, BoyMom by Ruth Whippman, is another great read about the issues facing our sons. She is one of the first to actually go into the “manosphere” and talk to incels or “involuntary celibate” males. One of her major research findings is the lack of good examples of masculinity. But after reading it, I also noticed — once again — a lack of good examples of fatherhood.

Society seems primarily to want fathers who are stoic men of action. These are the dads who “man up,” ignoring their own problems while fixing the world for everyone else. Other times, it wants dads who can cook a 12-course meal, make $200,000 a year, and do so without so much as a thank you. What it doesn’t show are examples of a dad who simply exists in the same space as his children and peers, parenting the best he can without feeling like he is letting someone else down. Why? It’s not dramatic. It has no diabolical twists and turns. It’s a straightforward tale of a man who works hard to fulfill his paternal responsibilities and shows up. Every. Single. Day.

Positive fatherhood role models are out there — right out in the open — and everyone seems to miss them. For some reason, at-home dads are rarely held up as the example of what fatherhood and masculinity could be at their best. Instead of showing these fathers (and other good ones who are not at-home dads) caring for their family, giving out hugs like it’s a beer share, or spending countless nights sleeping next to a crib, we inevitably hear, “Why aren’t dads doing more?”

We are. But it’s not very dramatic and, thus, rarely headline-worthy.

The silent story of fatherhood

I recently wrote about football player Jason Kelce’s retirement announcement. In that article, I used the phrase “silent story of fatherhood.” It served as a nod to Jason’s description of his dad, Ed, who supported him every step of the way from childhood. No fanfare. No awards. No recognition. And that is fine. But this is a story I think is way more common than the clickbait articles that allegedly “speak for fathers.”

To me, this is what at-home dads are. It’s what single fathers are. It’s what married fathers who work 60 hours a week and come home and still find the energy to let a toddler crawl all over them are. None of us want condescending credit or hollow compliments. We just want to spend time with our kids, and we’d appreciate it if we got some support along the way. We would love to be part of a world that recognizes our difficulties without turning them into a competition with other parents. And, we would like to turn on our computers and TVs and see a better example of fatherhood — one that speaks more clearly and personally to our reality.

Using these fathers as springboards, we should be able to change the story of fatherhood. We can develop narratives that show what we do well, what obstacles we face, and how we try to overcome them. We will still need to call out the bad fathers who leave their kids and never come back or who refuse to change a diaper but because they don’t deserve our respect they will serve far fewer words in our story let alone headlines.

Fathers DO have their own support groups: either online or in real life. Some are even specific types of fathers: at-home dads, dads with daughters, and so on. In these places, men can come together, simply exist and support each other like Dr. Reeves recommends. We can talk about the latest sports news and, just as confidently, tell another dad, “Hey, I don’t think I’m doing so well.” It’s where we can be vulnerable and further develop our emotional intelligence, just as Ruth Whippman wishes for her sons. It’s a place where we can be whole human beings, not the fraction of ones that much of the world has taught us to be. We should hold these men up as examples of and role models of fathers working to be, if not acting like, strong, competent and caring parents. I know they are because I see them every day.

And we need to do all this in a way that does not demean women and mothers. They need to be celebrated for their sacrifices as much as we need to be recognized for ours. Parenting isn’t a competition, so we should stop treating it that way especially when we speak and write about it.

So come to a dads’ group gathering sometime. Talk to the single dad who is an expert at French braids and who can also build you a deck. Find the at-home dad who gave up his career for playdates, doctors’ appointments and volunteering behind the scenes at his child’s school plays. Listen to the divorced father who would rather have a tea party with his child than a tee time at the links.

We exist. You just have to look and listen.

Fatherhood story photo by Pavel Danilyuk via Pexels.

Editor’s Note: If you are having a mental health crisis, call or text 988 to get in touch with the National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

I’m a big fan of the 2000s TV show Gilmore Girls, a show about as manly as the title suggests. It follows a single mother and her daughter living in a small Connecticut town. In this town, there is a diner owner named Luke, a surly guy who seems angry about everything and annoyed by everyone. We eventually learn he is a big softy. His gruff outer demeanor is a façade to protect himself from a world constantly threatening to hurt him. Basically, he’s my spirit animal.

In the Gilmore Girls episode, “But Not as Cute as Pushkin” (season 5, episode 10), Luke has a “dark day.” Once a year, Luke disappears. He flees town. He is cryptic as to why he behaves this way. No one knows where he goes, but everyone in town knows about Luke’s Dark Day (except his girlfriend, which is ridiculous, but never mind). This is an accepted part of Luke’s existence. Without dropping any spoilers (18 years later), Luke uses this day to go off and feel his feelings.

Recently, without me being fully aware of what was happening, my well-managed (or ignored?) feelings had begun to break free from my toxically masculine bulwark of denial. The week prior, I had slowly become a bit of an asshole. Everything made me grumpy. I was short with everyone. I had no patience for my children, and as a stay-at-home dad, I let my daily chores slip. The house was a mess, our diet was garbage, and everything was off.

All because I was resisting my own Dark Day.

Death, aging leads to depression

I know the main source of my emotional descent. About a year ago, my brother died. My relationship with him was complicated. His passing, while not shocking, hit me far harder than I had anticipated. As the anniversary of his death approached, those feelings came back. All the good. All the bad. I thought I was finished with the pain and trauma, but grief is an insatiable ambush predator.

A few months before the anniversary of my brother’s passing, I visited my parents. They both have serious health issues and live in a nursing home several states away. My dad’s mind is slipping away. Talking with him was tricky, and the view of his diminished body was particularly traumatic. My mom’s mind remains sharp, but she can no longer walk and has lost use of most of her limbs. The nursing home, while seemingly filled with nice people, is gloomy and old. The environment is sad, and so is seeing my parents in that place, but with their increasingly complicated medical requirements, there’s not much else we can do.

After I had spent the day with my parents, my wife asked how I was doing.

I replied earnestly and honestly, “I can’t really deal with it right now. I’ll feel my feelings when we get home.” We were in the middle of a family vacation, and I couldn’t really afford an emotional breakdown. I genuinely had every intention of dealing with the feelings when I got home. I’d cry it out in the shower. That’s what we all do, right?

I could list all the things that happened when we got home. All the excuses to keep avoiding my feelings. I promise I had some good ones. In fact, I deleted a very self-indulgent list from my rough draft. But the reasons don’t matter. I have mine. Other dads will have theirs. There’s always an excuse. Instead, I let my depression and darkness seep out slowly and cloud our home for weeks.

Healthy, right?

When the fire passes, healing begins

Look, I’m not here as a writer because I have all the answers. I’m here because I’m willing to admit I’ve screwed up.

I should have gone from my parents’ place back to the hotel and told my wife I needed 20 minutes. Then, I could have collapsed on the shower floor and had a good cry. I would’ve felt better (secretly I don’t feel I deserve to feel better, but that’s a whole other story). I would’ve saved myself weeks of inner turmoil and spared my family weeks of torture.

It’s true most men want to be seen as strong. Emotions make us feel weak, but it’s weak to pretend to be strong when you’re not. It’s weak to hide from your feelings. If you need your Dark Day, go off and have a Dark Day. Have the strength to face your emotions. Let the emotional fires consume you, knowing that when the fire passes, healing begins.

Everyone reading this has something they aren’t dealing with. I’m the hypocrite typing this with a truckload of my own baggage, but I’ve been making a very real effort to feel the feelings when I need to feel them. I’d encourage you to do the same. Yeah, it sucks, but you’ll feel better, and it’s a really great way to justify an excessively long, hot shower.

Feel the feelings photo: © altanaka / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one comes from 2014.

There’s a theme circulating on the Internet right now, mostly related to prom season – dads who threaten their daughters’ dates.

I’ve seen it on T-shirts, tweets, Facebook messages, and other places. The posts usually include a reference to the father’s guns, bullets, and, sometimes, boots. A list outlines the father’s expectations for the potential boyfriend and usually ends with a comment that if some boy mistreats his daughter in any way, then the above-mentioned guns/bullets/boots will be used on said guy.

These are well-meaning dads who want to display their devotion to their daughters, I’m sure. And as the father of a little girl, I get it.

I understand the love you have for your daughter, but let me be clear. If you mistreat any of my sons when they show up to your 1950s doorstep to take your daughter out on a date, you’ll have to answer to me.

I do not take disrespect lightly and that rings true from adult to child. I’m teaching my sons and daughter to respect others, so don’t be a jerk and act like a tough guy when my boys come around your girls.

Because you know what? If you act that way, they won’t come around and your daughter will probably sneak out to meet them anyway.

I get it. I get that you want to preserve your daughter’s innocence. That you want to be the only man in your daughter’s life. But you won’t be. So instead of bragging about how you’ll threaten your daughter’s dates with your guns and the “whooping” you’re going to give that boy if he breaks her heart or mistreats her, teach your daughter:

To stick up for herself and others.

To be wise and independent.

To be smart and courageous.

To value her own image and hold it in high self-esteem.

To make good choices.

To hold on to something that’s worth waiting for (and that means having “The Talk” with them). That’s what I’m teaching my girl … and my boys.

So go ahead and post your blah-blah-blah and that you have blah-blah-blah and you’ll do blah-blah-blah if some guy does blah-blah-blah.

But I suggest, instead, that you quit talking and start raising. (And encouraging, for that matter.) Throwing out ridiculous threats won’t stop boys and girls from doing anything. The best way to protect them is to raise them to make good decisions for themselves.  Have frank discussions about the risks of engaging in certain behaviors and the benefits of waiting for the one that may change their lives for the better. And you don’t want to risk scaring away the person that could do that.

Threaten daughter’s dates photo: © Mdv Edwards / Adobe Stock.

It shouldn’t be controversial to say an adult should never hit a child. That feels as reasonable as any statement could be, but a few might disagree. I can imagine eager fingers excitedly typing out varied scenarios and positing endless “what ifs” to find a way to work around this simple statement of fact: an adult should never hit a child.

Yet I’ve seen a spate of disturbing videos circulating on social media spaces of late. I’m disappointed these videos exist, but perhaps more disturbing is the reaction to them.

The videos depict adult, male teachers physically punching children. Each instance is a little different, but they follow a common formula. Student is misbehaving. Student is mouthing off. In short, the student is being a complete monster, and in one case, saying extraordinarily offensive things to the teacher.

In response, the adult, grown-ass male teacher physically attacks the student.

I’d like to think I’m pretty immune to the internet’s nonsense, but in this case, I find myself unable to shake the gross feeling these videos generate.

None of the behavior by the students is appropriate. Criminally underpaid teachers deserve honor and respect. The parents of these students have failed their kids. Past teachers have failed these kids. Society has failed them, too. And, yes, these kids do need to be taught a lesson. That lesson, however, should never be printed on the bony edges of a teacher’s knuckles – however smug that minor’s face may be.

Alpha Bros and toxic masculinity

I’ve been a father for a little more than 8 years. In all that time I have physically beaten my children zero times.

No swat on the bottom.

Not a pinch on the back of the arm.

Not even a slap on the wrist.

I never thought I would be that type of guy. My parents used minor physical deterrents to bad behavior, and I’m not traumatized, so I fully intended to use a similar strategy with my own children. When it came time to dole out corporal punishment, though, it never felt right. It didn’t make sense to hurt a child physically.

Have I gotten close? Sure.

Have I been beyond frustrated and had to assault an inanimate object? Yep – way more often than I’d like to admit.

But nowhere in me exists the desire to physically hurt my kids.

Part of me wants to dig into the teachers. I want to point out how weak and pathetic their actions are, but I’m capable of extending a little grace to these folks. These teachers have been through more in the last couple of years than I can fathom, and they finally snapped. I’m not excusing their actions, but I’m not looking to pile on. Their lives have been destroyed by these videos, and rightly so. I don’t need to add to that fire.

My issue is with the toxic masculinity crowd: The Alpha Bros sharing these types of videos to celebrate a child being physically dominated by a larger male.

This group of losers thinks it’s weak if a man kneels and hugs an angry child instead of screaming at him. These same folks think women are inferior. They behave as if any show of nonviolent emotion is a demonstration of weakness. They are desperate to be thought of as in charge and are likely to describe themselves as “an entrepreneur” while selling supplements online while living in their mom’s basement. These Alpha Bros have a 4Chan following, worship guns, and in general, have so little self-esteem, their only ability to feel good about themselves comes when celebrating the misery of others.

These are the trolls cheering on the teachers who physically attacked their students. They share these videos and talk about how soft society has gotten. “It’s good to see a real man finally standing up and doing something about it!” they type. In their world, a real man is one who is easily threatened by the words of an adolescent who poses zero physical threat.

If these are the hallmarks of a real man, I shudder to think how pathetic I am.

Define masculinity without the nonsense

I hug my children. I cried at the most recent episode of HBO’s The Last Of Us. My wife makes ALL the money. I must be pretty pathetic. I mean, how Beta is it to type angry words about all the big bad Alphas?

But you know what? I work on my own car – a German car, too. I mow my own lawn. Also, I use charcoal to grill large chunks of meat. I own firearms. I work out and even run ultra-marathons (OK, it’s been a while but still). My favorite sport is Mixed Martial Arts (MMA). But I also have an orchid collection and cry when Apple applies emotional music to rolling pictures of my kids. Soooo, there’s that.

Regardless of how we chose to define and measure masculinity and manliness, the pinnacle of manhood can’t be violence. A real man practices restraint. He knows the difference between wisdom and nonsense. These new Alpha Bros are devoid of wisdom and represent the worst of us men, not the best.

As fathers of the next generation, it is our duty to model healthy, masculine behavior. Yes, men do have specific needs. But there are healthy outlets for these feelings (sports, exercise, hard physical labor). Our job is to teach our young sons these healthy outlets. We need to point out the weak behavior of these imaginary Alphas, and lead with love and kindness.

Now, back to some MMA fights and my bourbon. I’ve had a long day of mending socks and cleaning the kitchen. This Beta life is brutal.

Photo: © Maria Sbytova / Adobe Stock.

In a few months, I’ll be able to once again hold a newborn in my arms. This time, a sweet little boy. I’m looking forward to the moment I get to meet him. But being the planner I am, I needed to make sure I felt prepared for what that meant. I knew how to be a dad for a girl, but could I do so for a boy?

As someone who’s taken a deep dive into feminist issues to be more conscious of how to raise our daughter, I felt a little intimidated by what it would mean to raise a boy. 

When I bring that up, everyone tells me raising a boy is easier or it should come so much easier for me to father a boy than a girl. A 2018 Gallup poll of Americans even said 2-to-1 that they thought raising a boy is easier. But if that were the case, would men’s mental health issues be as prevalent as they are today? Doesn’t the way society dictates gender norms have a lot to do with the commonality all men feel in our resistance to sharing our true emotions? 

I know how much impact toxic masculinity can have on a child. I know its effects can stay long through adulthood. I’ve worked on my own traumas relating to that in order to make me better for my family. But how can I prevent my child from being damaged by this and repeating a cycle? 

I don’t know the answer yet. I suspect the reason this is even an issue is we are quick to box what we expect from each gender at such an early age. I’m doing it now, but I am trying to learn to parent without expectations of who my children will be. We have to let kids be.

We need to be careful not to persuade them to like certain things simply because they are male or female. As responsible parents, we must give them the environment to explore whether it’s playing in the dirt or with dolls. Kids like what they like (I tried preventing my daughter from liking princesses, for example, but she’s all about it now).

Also, I know that the learnings I’ve had regarding feminism and raising my daughter should only be amplified for my son. Raising a child on empathy and respect should be a priority, regardless.

Finally, I know that there’s so much more to learn. I’ll need to keep up my self-education. By learning more about men’s health, feminism, gender identity issues, and doing more self-work, I hope that I can continuously be better, for both my son and my daughter. 

A version of ‘Raising a Boy’ first appeared on Being Papa. Photo: © kieferpix / Adobe Stock.

All the dads of my group gather around as one pulls out his wallet. His smile is huge and, even though he would never admit it, there is a tear in his eye as he pulls out the little photograph.

“That’s just precious,” one says.

“Hey, congrats man,” another says.

The picture is well-worn, and you can tell that he has shown it hundreds of times in the last two days alone. To his parents, his friends, even to strangers on the street. He can’t help himself because none of us can. He’s trying to be humble but there is pride in his voice every time he talks about her.

“It was a rough go there for a bit, and I was scared,” he tells the guys.  “It could have gone either way.” The stress of the last year is evident as his shoulders appear more rounded than they had been before. “But it worked out. And just look at her. Beautiful.”

All the guys agree, and then start getting their wallets out of their back pockets. We can’t help it. We all have pictures to share.

“This baby right here,” someone chimes in, “she’s gonna be amazing.”

“How much longer?”

“A couple of weeks unless something goes wrong.”

I put my hand on his shoulder to offer support.

“How many gallons?” I ask.

“50. Think it will be enough?” he says.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The dad who showed his picture first puts it back in his wallet. Everyone pats him on the back, and we all talk about the next steps. Geothermal model? Maybe have twins, one tank to hold a reserve for the other. There’s a lot to choose from when it comes to a quality water heater.

I know this because my dad’s group has been talking about them for freaking years.

Water heaters. Really?

Yes, really.

I would like to say that as dads, we are better than this. We are not the cliches that we have been portrayed as. And yet, we are.

What do dads talk about when they get together? Water heaters. How many BTUs, gallons and installation? Tank or no tank? Are you going to hire out the install or are we all getting together to bring this baby into the world together?

All. The. Time.

“Hey, guys,” I asked, “Maybe we cannot discuss water heaters today?”

They slashed my tires, and I’m close to being kicked out of the group.

These are the same families I’ve been quarantining with, and I’m considering going to a large concert to get the virus just to have something else to talk about. But no, I wouldn’t want to take attention away from the new water heater. That would be selfish.

We took a trip together last week and rented a house in the country away from the world. A beautiful barn-type structure that had three floors. The kids could play on the top one, the middle floor was for adults, and the basement was for the dual water heater system that the owner had dropped some serious coin on. I bet my wife how long each dad would hold off before he checked it out and then commented on the system.

I won the bet.

“Hey, did you see the water heater down in the basement?” asked the first dad. “She’s a beaut!”

“I sure did!” said another dad. “Reminds me of my own!”

“Really impressive. Quality install, too!” the third dad said.

The fourth dad just pulled out his wallet and they all gathered around once again, each touching the image of the now frayed photograph that came in the weekly mailer. My wife fell asleep mid-conversation. I tried to slip away but was punched repeatedly for not showing the proper respect.

Now, my dad’s group will say that I’m making up this whole story and adding a flair that didn’t happen. They’ll say that they don’t have a photograph and that they don’t talk about water heaters that much. That it’s just Shannon being funny and trying to give them crap for talking about water heaters so much.

My response?

Ask them about the water heater in the rental house, and I guarantee they will tell you the exact make and model, and how it was installed, and they will all look wistful while they do it.

As for me, a stupid water heater is a stupid water heater, and I don’t need any more information about them. We don’t have to be the cliche dads society expects us to be. We can talk about something else.

Like, for example, my new weed eater. She’s amazing. I got her on sale and when she hums, it’s the music of the gods. Here, let me show you a picture.

Photo: © Konstantin Kulikov / Adobe Stock.

We are constantly fed conflicting messages about how to be a man. and these mixed messages can be confusing and harmful to children. If you let the media teach masculinity to your son, he might be drawing on a plethora of bad examples of “manliness”: Men not caring what others say, using anger to get their way, or thinking that the world owes them something simply for existing.

However, modeling healthy masculinity at home can help your son get a real grip on what being a good person looks like, and show your daughter how a well-behaved man should act. Here are five traits of healthy masculinity and how you can teach masculinity by modeling them at home:

1. Fairness

What it is: One of the most important aspects of positive masculinity is the idea of being just. To be just means being fair and doing the right thing even when nobody else is around. If you’re reading this article, you’re probably a dad who wants your child to be a good presence in the world and being just leaves a great impression.

Top traits:

1. Looks out for others
2. Makes sure everyone is treated fairly
3. Holds other people accountable.

Teaching it: We can teach masculinity through just actions by being judicial at home. If your child does or says something inappropriate, kindly and calmly let them know that their actions and words have power and consequences. When we’re just, we work actively toward making the world a more equal and fair place.

2. Integrity

What it is: Acting with integrity can take many forms, ranging from being honest to doing hard work. Either way, all forms of integrity demonstrate a trustworthy competency. When we act with integrity, we show others they can open up to us and rely on us.

Top traits:

1. Keeps his word
2. Admits when he’s wrong, how he can grow
3. Tells the truth

Teaching it: It can be hard for us to admit our faults, but it’s so necessary. Showing our children how to be trustworthy and maintain our word is crucial, and you can do it from home. Make sure your son knows he can always tell you the truth, that you appreciate him, and that you are honest with him. Being able to admit when you’re wrong, change your mind, and thoroughly listen to others’ words can show your child it’s OK to make mistakes and let others take the lead.

3. Emotional Openness

What it is: Men tend to freeze up when it comes to showing emotion because it has been framed as “weak” or “feminine.” However, being able to show and manage our emotions is as important for health as a good workout.

Top traits:

1. Channels his anger properly
2. Shows affection to those around him
3. Isn’t afraid to let others know his feelings

Teaching it: Emotions are often labeled as feminine things, so lacking feelings is thought to be more masculine. This false perception creates a damaging precedent. It tells young men not to show love or ask for help — two of the most important things all humans need.

At home, your child can greatly benefit from seeing you when you’re hurting, when you’re proud of them, or even how much you love them. You teach masculinity in a positive way whenever you let your child know feelings are nothing to be ashamed of.

4. Confidence

What it is: How many times have you let other people’s opinions define you? One of the most important aspects of being a good man is to be confident in yourself and to embrace who you are. It’s great for children to see their dads let their personality shine, so they don’t feel embarrassed of their own identities.

Another defining feature of confidence is approaching situations and saying, “I can handle this.” Whether it’s a father-daughter dance, fixing a car, or disarming a bomb, confident men know they’re up to the task. But they also know how to say “I need help,” as over-confidence can be a vice instead of a virtue.

Top traits:

1. Says “I think I can do this.”
2. Allows himself to be happy and likes his interests.
3. Knows that he deserves a place in the world.

Teaching it: To demonstrate confidence at home, practice giving your child pep talks or reveal your own self-motivation strategies. Encourage them to surround themselves with friends who accept them for who they are. Also, try to remind your child that sometimes even the most prepared person can be in over their head.

5. Leading by Example

What it is: You can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk? A big part of how to teach masculinity in a positive way is leading by example, showing your child what “doing right” looks like! They’re going to look to you for guidance so don’t be scared to show off. When your child sees you take initiative, they will see the value of tackling problems and acting selflessly.

Top traits:

1. Being curious about the world
2. Asking “What can I do to help?”
3. Doing the hard work that needs to be done

Teaching it: To show how setting a good example is a masculine trait from home, show your child what good behavior looks like. Yard needs mowing? We get out there and mow it! Need to stop at the store? We surprise our partners with flowers! Pick up that piece of trash, say thank you, and do what needs to be done.

Teach masculinity step-by-step starting today

Now, some of you might be reading this article and saying “Wow, that sounds like a lot,” but these are all abilities you already possess!

As a dad, it can be tough to know how to raise a son to be a great person. Modeling healthy masculinity helps you raise your son into the good man you want him to be. While these five actions are only pieces to a healthy model, they’re a great place to start!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andy Earle is a researcher who studies parent-teen communication and adolescent risk behaviors. He is the co-founder of Talking to Teens, a ghostwriter at Write It Great, and host of the Talking to Teens podcast, a free weekly talk show for parents of teenagers.

Teach masculinity photo: ©Monkey Business / Adobe Stock.

“Is Father’s Day outdated?” That’s what Mary Schmich, a columnist for the Chicago Tribune, asked in 2018. For me, the answer is a resounding “no.”

As long as there are men, fathers will be relevant and worth celebrating. And, I don’t just mean “father” as though it were interchangeable with the word “parent.”

A parent, in my view, can be of any gender or none at all. If you are willing and capable of taking on the responsibility of parenthood, you can be a parent. A parent’s responsibility is to educate, entertain, guide, protect, provide for and love their child. My success as a parent is evidenced by my child’s success at growing, learning, thriving and finding joy in the world.

However, I feel a critical part of being a father is teaching my daughter how to interact with men and how to have realistic expectations of the males she encounters. This means accepting masculinity in all its forms, not just the garden variety.

I embrace the title of “father” despite being an atypical dad. I don’t bring home the bacon, but I do all of the cooking (bacon and otherwise). I do most of the cleaning, too. I get my daughter up for school in the morning and pick her up in the afternoon. I braid her hair and pick out the cutest outfits for her. Seriously, I dress her very well. She’s the cutest.

The “emotionally unavailable dad” stereotype doesn’t apply to me, either. My wife is more emotionally restrained and less effusive than I am, by far. I’m not sporty, competitive or brutish.

In short, I’m not playing a role. I’m just being myself.

Masculinity comes in many forms

I believe that if my daughter sees that I’m not a stereotype, she’ll be more prepared to accept other men who don’t fit the traditional image of manliness. If I’ve done my job, she knows and understands no single correct definition of masculinity exists just as no single correct definition of father or mother does.

Father’s Day is a great time to ask yourself what you are teaching your kids, be they sons or daughters, about men. It’s also a good time to reflect on what your dad taught you, if anything, about being a man. For example, my dad taught me that it’s OK for a man:

• to cry without explaining
• to appreciate beauty in all its forms
• to sing with all his heart
• to be afraid
• to have and express emotions

He also taught me being a dad doesn’t mean you stop being human.

In our society, men are struggling to find identity as long-held cliches and toxic behaviors are questioned or patently torn down. Men now must examine their own complicity in a system that has rewarded their worst characteristics. It has been a long time coming and we’re really only at the beginning of what is sure to be a sea-change in gender relations.

For this reason, it’s more important than it has ever been in my lifetime that fathers play an involved and conscious role in shaping our children’s impressions and expectations of men.

Defining the future of masculinity is a unique job that fathers are tailor-made for. Let’s keep Father’s Day relevant by being men worth celebrating. Let’s make Father’s Day a day when we celebrate the best of what men can be and those who showed us the way.

About the author

Erich Larsen works remotely from Scottsdale, Ariz., as the communications coordinator for a professional dental society in California and as a freelance graphic designer. He is a co-organizer of our Phoenix Dads Group. When not working or parenting, he draws, paints, writes, sings, cooks and travels with his wife and daughter.

Tea party photo courtesy of Victor Aragon

Michael Reichert says that just as we no longer believe a girl’s destiny is set by her biology, we need to think the same about boys. The old “boys will be boys” notion of masculinity is not inherent in their DNA.

That and our understanding of how boys learn are among the many things Reichert, the founding director of the Center for the Study of Boys’ and Girls’ Lives at the University of Pennsylvania, says people need to change if we are to raise a new generation of men who can form strong relationships without falling into the macho stereotypes and sexist behaviors of the past.

Reichert dives further into the subject on the latest episode of The Modern Dads Podcast. He discusses the findings in his new book, How to Raise a Boy: The Power of Connection to Build Good Men, along with how parents can talk to boys about the #MeToo movement and gender equality.

Since 1984, Reichert has maintained a clinical practice in the Philadelphia area that specializes in working with boys, men and their families. In addition to direct patient care, he has served as the supervising psychologist at an independent boys’ school and has had the opportunity there to create and lead a program designed to enhance boys’ emotional literacy.

In addition to How to Raise a Boy, Reichert has publish numerous articles and several books. These include the books Reaching Boys, Teaching Boys: Lessons About What Works — and Why and I Can Learn From You: Boys as Relational Learners. He currently writes a column for Psychology Today.

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“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I ask my son at the dinner table. Normally, when such a powerful fatherhood statement like that comes out of my mouth, he’ll freeze. But not today.

Today, my boy has decided that it’s time to become a man. He grips the slice of pizza tighter.

“Mine,” he says. Such a simple statement but it is as loaded as that slice. He knows this. That’s not something you say to your father and expect to NOT to mow the yard. He doesn’t hand over the beautiful hunk of meat lovers pizza. Instead, he puts it on his plate. It lands with a challenge.

“You want to rethink that?” I tell him.

“Not really.”

Such moxie for an 11-year-old. I’ll admit, my respect for my son grows. Not enough to give up the pizza, though. You can’t ask a man for the impossible.

“I suggest you consider what you are doing,” I say.

“I’m having dinner.” His voice is cool.

“With that gigantic piece? Are you sure you want to do that?”

I’m trying to give him a way out. It’s simple. That slice of pizza has all the best toppings, and there are so many of them. When he picked it up, the weight of the sausage and pepperoni bent it in the middle and only the cheese prevented a disaster. That’s a dad slice.

In reply to me, my son takes the a tiny and embarrassing piece of pizza out of the box and slaps it onto my empty plate. A sausage rolls over ham and onto the floor. There is hardly anything left on this piece. It’s the consolation prize of pizza slices. It’s the “thanks for participating” trophy.

I look down at the puny thing and then back at my son. This has gotten serious.

“Boy, you need to tread real careful here,” I say. “Some decisions you can’t take back.” There’s a threat in my voice, and I know he hears it. He doesn’t react so I also know that he doesn’t care.

His defiance to my authority, to my position in the family, has come quicker than expected.  It was only a matter of time before the youngling challenges the adult’s position. We all know this. Fathers count on it because we all also remember when it occurred with our own tribal chiefs back in the day. But so soon? No, I was not prepared for that.

The boy takes a bite. Sauce pushes into the corner of his mouth. He savors it, pulls the pizza away as the cheese makes a magical bridge to his tongue.

“You’re pizza is going to get cold, Dad.”

I consider my options. The traditional way to approach this is to go out in the front yard and slam our heads together until only the victor stands. There is something to be said for tradition. I’ve always been better at brute force. I could also stand and beat my chest real hard, thus proving my manliness to the point that he is overwhelmed with the display. Then he will hand me the big slice of pizza. I can only assume that his mother will be impressed as well.

I stand and put my hands on the table like the family CEO Gorilla that I am.  I make sure my forearms are nice and flexed.  Total power move. I take my plate and slide the small slice of pizza back into the box. It lands with a wet whimper.

“Son, give me that slice of pizza. That’s dad’s slice. It’s bigger. I’m not going to eat this weak thing you handed me. You’re not big enough to pull this off.”

He pauses. Looks at his sister who is no help at all, and then takes another bite. My chest muscles flex as a show of dominance.

My boy has always been smart, there’s no doubt about that. But he seems to have miscalculated here. You do not take dad’s big slice of pizza. It’s just not done. At least, not until you are ready to back it up. There’s a betrayal in the very act. I taught the boy how to play video games, throw a baseball, and held him when he was sick. Those acts require loyalty, not whatever this is. Not this … complete disrespect.

“I can’t give you the pizza, Dad,” he says. His tone is better; more subservient.

“You will give me that pizza,” I say.

“Mom says you have high cholesterol and that pizza isn’t good for you.”

Betrayal takes on many forms.

There’s a moment in Return Of The Jedi where Luke cuts off Vader’s hand. We all cheered because when we saw that movie back in 1985, we were all sons rebelling against our fathers. “Take that!” we all felt. Now Luke is free! He has become the master! But in this scenario, I’ve had my hand cut off. Somehow I’ve evolved to the point that I’m Vader.

I sit back down. The boy is right. I’m not supposed to eat pizza and when I do, I’m supposed to take it easy. It’s not healthy.  Kale salad is healthy. My world has gone dark green and is covered with some sort of crap olive oil dressing and not pizza toppings

I don’t know what to say. My boy beat his chest and has won. Where do I go from here?

“Love you, Dad,” my son says, and I think he means it even though the family dynamic has obviously changed. The large piece of pizza no longer goes to dad.

“Love you, too, boy,” I tell him. I know I mean it because as a father I see Vader’s story arc different than I did so long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away.

We never consider the pain that Vader felt. He’s just a dad that wants what is best for his son and is willing to give up his hand for his boy. That I can understand. If he can give up a body part, then I can give up the last piece of pizza. Maybe one day, my boy will do the same for his son.

My boy has become a man, and I like what I see before me as he gnaws on what was once going to be my crust.

Photo: Miguel Andrade on Unsplash