I think that woman just called me a pedophile.

That’s what went through my mind when I was once part of a panel of at-home dads on a syndicated talk show. The first question (more of an outlandish statement than a question) came from a mother who said she would never leave her daughter alone with a stay-at-home dad (SAHD). She was afraid a man helping her child in the bathroom would not be able to control himself. You know, because we can’t be trusted around a prepubescent vagina. She had seen some bad stuff go down … once on an episode of Law & Order.

As crazy as this woman sounded, it made me think: She can’t be the only one who feels this way. Other issues raised by the audience were less controversial but no less ridiculous. Here’s the actual TV segment:

Based on that experience, here are five sadly popular SAHD myths stay-at-home fathers regularly:

1. Don’t trust a SAHD with your children

This is one of the most annoying and horrific SAHD myths. One of my fellow panelists answered such a pedophile implication with, “That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, not a ‘dad’ problem.” The audience ate it up!

We were not talking about leaving your child with a stranger. I wouldn’t leave mine alone with someone I was not completely comfortable with, man or woman. Furthermore, I wouldn’t leave my children alone with anyone THEY were not completely comfortable with.

But labeling a stay-at-home father “untrustworthy” simply because he’s a guy? That audience member I first mentioned was dead wrong in her belief that a dad cannot be deserving of trust simply because he has a penis.

2. Fathers can’t bond with children like mothers can

I hear SAHD myths like this all the time: Sure, dads can be great parents, but they can never have the same relationship with their children as mothers.

I don’t deny the hard work and heroic efforts women endure during pregnancy and childbirth. A sincere “thank you” to all mothers. You brought us dads the greatest gift in the world. (So stop with the ties on Father’s Day: they’re ugly and we don’t like them.)

But, ladies, the children are just as much ours as they are yours.

I felt a bond with my children the first time I laid eyes on them. My daughter was a daddy’s girl from day one, often to the exclusion of my wife. (Something that caused tears on more than one occasion.) These things ebb and flow, and Mommy is the favorite these days. Not, however, because of some bond that I was not privy to because I have a penis.

3. Stay-at-home dads are not nurturers

What? More gender stereotyping SAHD myths! I am physically unable to pick up my 2-year-old son without kissing and hugging (and usually tickling) him.

There are certainly times when he prefers his mom, but bedtime is Dad Time. When he knows he’s tired, he crawls into my arms. And when he’s tired, but does not know it, I can calm his screams and get him to fall asleep far quicker than my wife can. I think my scent soothes him. I know his scent soothes me.

Nurturing, it should be said, goes beyond all the hugs and kisses I give my kids. I nurture their spirit, confidence, education, and sense of fun (and sometimes mischief). People who don’t think stay-at-home dads nurture have not seen a stay-at-home dad in action.

4.  At-home fathers are trying to be better than moms.

Are dads better stay-at-home parents than moms? What a dumb, meaningless question. But that is what the talk show producers wanted us to argue. Dads are not better than moms. And moms are not better than us.

Parenting is not a competition!

I don’t work against my wife to raise our children; I work with her. That we parent differently is a benefit to our kids. They get the best of both worlds.

5. SAHDs are the only fathers worthy of attention

Stay-at-home dads are so hot right now! But we are still in the minority. Not only compared to stay-at-home moms, but compared to all the active and involved fathers who go to work (or work from home) every day and are co-equal parents every night. Why are they being ignored by the media?

Stay-at-home dads are at the forefront of the changing image of fathers, but working dads deserve our attention, too. Like working moms, they are trying to have it all and should be lauded for their efforts. It is not being done enough, so I’ll do it here. You guys are defeating the stereotype of the lazy, bumbling dad who doesn’t know his way around a diaper. Keep up the good work, at the office and at home.

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A version of SAHD myths was originally published by Time Ideas before it ran here in 2014. Photo by Juliane Liebermann on Unsplash.

This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

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.

Fathers are incompetent man-children who may be able to keep their kids alive (in a pinch), but not much else.

Mothers are incessant nags who wouldn’t know a good time if it tickled their collective behinds, but they do know to take care of business … around the house, anyway.

WTF!?!

It seems impossibly outdated, yet somehow this view of parenthood as a battle between the sexes rather than a partnership persists.

Give me a friggin’ break.

I know my situation is different than the norm. I’m a stay-at-home dad. When my children go to my wife for help, do they look around and ask, “Where is Dad?” No. They ask her for what they need. When we’re both home, do we magically revert to old stereotypes, that she knows everything and I’m just a dumb lug who scratches himself all day? No! We have a partnership in this whole parenting thing.

I’ve seen the memes about helpless dads countless times. For each one, there are a host of women commenting “oh, yeah!” and “preach it, girl!” I usually just roll my eyes and make a mental note of which of my friends is an idiot that day (or who is getting really annoyed at this silly B.S., which can also be amusing).

Parenting partnership is no joke

These moms are probably mostly joking or venting, maybe thinking back to particular instances when their men could have done more … or maybe these moms just weren’t thinking at all. Totally understandable. I’ve encountered my share of arguably sexist memes and, for an instant, saw a grain of truth in them or just wanted to empathize or bond with the dude who posted it. Then I think about the message I’d be sending to the world – about my wife and women – and I keep scrolling. There are better things to like on the internet. But I’m not mad at the women who click “like” and leave messages of support for this view. I feel sorry for them. Their “partners” are not holding up their end of the implicit parental bargain.

However, I’m willing to bet that most parents recognize how valuable their significant other is. If not, something is wrong in that dynamic. It’s possible that dad is slacking and needs to get his act together. Maybe mom is stressed because dad feels his role as a parent is to provide for his family, and not much else. It’s also possible that mom won’t let him participate as much as he’d like to because he doesn’t fold the laundry the “right way” or cook a “perfectly balanced” meal the way she would. A parenting partnership requires some give and take, particularly the giving up and taking of control.

As a stay-at-home parent, I absolutely depend on my wife. Just like she could not put in long hours at work if I didn’t stay home with the kids, I could not take care of the kids all day if she didn’t share those responsibilities when she was home. I would lose my damn mind!

By the time we pick my wife up at the train station, I am ready to hand over the reins. I am all too happy to take on some of those household responsibilities I shirked during the day. After a long day at the office, every minute with the kids is precious for her. Yes, she’s exhausted, but in a different way. What is something of a break for her is the very thing that threatens every day to break me: those crazy kids and all their questions!

Upon further reflection, maybe those memes aren’t as far off as I originally thought. If the moms who liked it are anything like me, they’re probably hiding in the kitchen once their spouses get home. The kids aren’t asking dad where mom is because dad is a useless idiot, they’re asking because there are times when mom doesn’t want to be found! It’s a good thing that, like me, she has a husband in this whole parenting partnership thing who is ready, willing, and able to take on whatever questions, requests, and demands are thrown his way.

Parenting partnership first ran in 2104 and has since been update. Photo by Katie E from Pexels

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.

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 2013.

One thing my family loves about living in New York City is the diversity and the “melting pot” promise of the city. We want our kids to grow up in this sort of cultural and economic diversity. But even in this vibrant, libel city, my skin color still has the ability to raise an eyebrow. Almost on a daily basis. Like all the times people think I’m the kids’ manny.

We are a multicultural family. I am an Indian American. My parents emigrated from India almost 50 years ago, long before I was born. My wife is a home-grown American – for lack of a better phrase. Her lineage includes Irish, Native American, German and probably a few more.

We have two daughters: a 4- and a 10-month-old. Sadly for me, but fortunately for them, they look nothing like me. I don’t mean that they resemble my wife more than me on a sliding scale. I mean that they look nothing like me.

As an Indian American, my complexion is dark. I have brown eyes and dark hair, well, I did before going bald. Our oldest daughter, on the other hand, is a result of a chuckle that her genetic makeup decided to have on me. She is stunning. I am her dad and I am supposed to think that, I know. But she is. She has blonde hair, striking blue eyes and an extremely slight olive tint to her skin. She looks nothing like me. Our younger daughter does have dark hair but sports a bluish-green eye color to die for. She has a similar skin tone to her sister. I’m a lucky Dad with a lifetime of stress and worry ahead of me!

Family and friends throw me a bone every now and then and claim to see some physical feature that resembles me in the girls. It’s nice of them to try.

Neither manny nor adbuctor

Given the extreme disparity of my appearance with my older daughter, I would often (and still do) get looks of interest, confusion, and sometimes even concern. The looks often made me feel as if I needed to justify my relationship to my daughter in public. I’ve been asked directly if she was my daughter by perfect strangers. My daughter, being an extremely bright and observant girl, became conscious of this tension with no provocation. At 2 years old, in response to a quizzical look, she grabbed my leg in a crowded elevator and declared loudly, “This is my Daddy!” Admittedly, I quietly loved this. She got to the point that she would scream this declaration to every stranger that dared to look at us.

One time, close to her third birthday, I was bringing her home from a friend’s house a little too close to dinner time. On the walk to the subway, she began to melt down and cry for her mommy. The tantrum began to escalate and I picked her up to get on the subway quickly. A concerned passerby actually followed us for about four blocks out of concern for her. It wasn’t until my daughter finally spat out, “Daddy, I want to go home,” in her tantrum that the person actually turned around and left.

I suppose I should have felt a bit thankful that a perfect stranger was trying to ensure the safety of my daughter. I’d certainly want that should she actually be in a situation that required help. In reality, I was mildly offended at the assumption that she could not possibly be my child.

I don’t appear to get as many looks with my younger daughter, I think as a result of her dark hair. Regardless, as my girls get older, I find myself less and less conscious of the looks I receive with them. I do find myself occasionally fighting off the urge to yell at all the moms at that park, “No. I am not the manny! I’m their father thankyouverymuch!”

Thus, even in a city as diverse and incredible as New York, you really never know what sort of family you will run into. We certainly have all kinds. I think to some degree we all try to fit people into molds that are comfortable to us. I think it’s natural and I am sure I have done it myself. My own experience has taught me to take the extra conscious effort to make no assumptions and remind myself how amazingly different our families can be.

Photo: © zinkevych / Adobe Stock.

My journey into the world of AI-generated art began two weeks before Thanksgiving. I sat down in front of my computer to experiment with Midjourney, an artificial intelligence program that creates images from text descriptions. I entered the command “/imagine” and a message from the Midjourney bot appeared: “There are endless possibilities …”

Excited, I typed out the image in my mind:

A young african american man wearing a white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, is flying through the clouds and space as if in a dream.

Midjourney generated four versions that the beloved painter and art instructor Bob Ross might have called “happy little accidents.” In each, the clouds look like unruly cotton balls. The man has no discernible face. He also does everything but fly through the clouds: he walks on them, sits on them, or has his head lost in them. The images were garbage.

After a few days of studying the text-to-image prompts of other users, I refined my descriptions. Finally, through trial and error, I learned how to guide AI to generate images closer to my vision. I’ve turned my daughter into Princess Leia, myself into a guardian angel, and reimagined Santa Claus as Batman.

AI-Generated art and Black fatherhood

As a Black dad who blogs, I was curious to see how AI imagines fatherhood. One day I typed: young african american father holding sleeping baby, illustration. Midjourney produced four touching images that evoked my early, sleep-deprived days of dadhood when I cradled my daughter in my arms to help her fall asleep. I posted one of the images to Instagram and titled it “The Whole World in His Hands.”

The comments from other Black dads were positive. I imagine they felt seen.

That inspired me to create more AI-generated art drawing from my own experiences or those of fathers I know. I made images of Black dads teaching their sons how to tie a necktie. Reading books with their children. On date nights with their spouses. Spending time with their daughters. Essentially, Black dads being present in the lives of their loved ones. Images that are all contrary to the “absentee father” myth prevalent in news media, politics, and pop culture.

I would occasionally forget to use the descriptor “African American” before “father” in my image prompts and Midjourney would, predictably, generate images with white fathers. It didn’t bother me at first. But after the second and third time, I started thinking, “Why aren’t Black fathers included in AI’s default definition of fatherhood?”

So I did an experiment. I typed “fatherhood” into Midjourney 10 times. The bot generated four images each time creating 40 images of what it was programmed to associate with fatherhood.

Only one image was of a Black father. One out of 40.

And none appeared to be people of color.

According to AI, the default image of “fatherhood” is a white father holding or hugging a child.

“I am invisible”

The issue of bias in image generation systems shouldn’t be surprising. As digital artist and academic Nettrice Gaskins noted in a recent Instagram post: “The processes by which machines learn to recognize images is like how humans see things. Neural nets are fed millions of images from databases; they use input from humans to classify and sort image data and come up with probabilities of what the final images will be. Artists can change the parameters for how a network or system identifies, recognizes, and processes these images, which gives them a certain amount of power to influence or make decisions about which images are generated.”

Still, it felt like the kind of distortion Ralph Ellison famously described in his 1952 novel Invisible Man: “I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination — indeed, everything and anything except me.”

Representation matters. It matters because it validates experiences and lifts aspirations.

That’s the reminder I’m taking with me into February — Black History Month — as I continue my artistic adventure with Midjourney. As Gaskins encouraged, I have the power to influence the images generated by AI. I have the power to widen the visual representation of Black fatherhood.

“There are endless possibilities …”

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.

City Dads Group has joined a national online campaign to help combat stereotyping and change inaccurate perceptions about Black fathers.

The #CelebrateBlackDads social media initiative, launched by Dove Men+Care highlights stories of Black fathers caring for and engaging with their children. The positive tales of love and commitment include several from City Dads members, contributors and supporters.

According to a recent research study commissioned by Dove Men+Care, less than half of Black fathers polled think social media, mainstream media, and popular culture portray Black fatherhood accurately.

“All caring fathers deserve to be seen, respected, and celebrated,” said Carlos Gil, Global Brand Vice President of Dove Men+Care. “We know how important a dad’s care is, and the transformational effect that care has on everyone around them. But too often, the care that Black fathers have for their kids and family is not seen or celebrated. It felt incredibly important to help break down the barriers that limit who is seeing the true stories of these fathers.”

#CelebrateBlackDads is the latest addition to the grooming product company’s Commit to C.A.R.E. (Care About Racial Equality) initiative, launched in 2020 in the wake of the murder of George Floyd at the hands of police. This campaign initially launched on Father’s Day 2022 with the support of country music star Jimmie Allen, vlogger and influencer Beleaf in Fatherhood (Glen Henry), and Black fatherhood network The Dad Gang. 

City Dads has been a longtime partner and supporter of Dove Men+Care’s ongoing mission to shatter stereotypes about what it means to be a man and a father. Some past campaigns, City Dads has worked with them on include advocating for universal paternity leave and recognizing father figures.

To learn more about the campaign and find more inspiring Black dads, visit DoveMenCare.com/CelebrateBlackDads.

Photo: © WavebreakMediaMicro / Adobe Stock.

“OK, dad, do you need my help?” the polite medical assistant asked.

I assured her I was fine.

“Oh, ummm, do you want me to help with her pants?” she asked this time.

Once more, I assured the kind woman I was fine.

She would ask if I needed help two more times. By the final question, I was clenching my fist as hard as I could, hoping it would keep me from saying something ridiculous.

For the record, I’m always at risk of saying something ridiculous.

It’s not the medical assistant’s fault. She was trying to help a seemingly hapless dad handle a 2-year-old. A 2-year-old who really, really had zero interest in being at the doctor’s office. A 2-year-old who felt duty bound to wage a war of not-so-quiet resistance against each and every request made – no matter how politely asked.

This moment was a challenge for me, of course. It’s never easy to force your kid into doing something, but I was getting it done. I’m a professional father at this point, after all! This tiny, unruly, curly haired resistance fighter is my third child. I’ve got this. In fact, any time I’m in charge of just one kid, I’m having an easy day.

So no, I don’t need your damn help!

Gender roles and stereotypes

There are many societal forces at play when it comes to parsing out the origins of gender roles. I dare not dip my toes into that ever-expanding quagmire, but whether I like it or not, as a house husband, I am on the leading edge of redefining what it means to be a male caretaker of kids and home.

Despite this reality, it’s no surprise when a woman in a pediatrician’s office spots a dad alone with a kid, she naturally assumes something has gone horribly wrong: Poor ol’ dad is stuck taking the kid to an appointment! He likely has no idea what he’s doing. He definitely needs help. With EVERYTHING!

I admit, at one point in my life, I believed the trope. Maybe the slew of useless sitcom dads that populated my childhood evening TV time influenced my thinking. Those TV dads ALWAYS screwed things up. They were chronically unsure of how to handle young kids. Diapers? Comedy gold. Alone time with their kids was called “babysitting.” And, in general, they seemed completely unable to handle a pregnant woman. Household chores were a mystery. Without a female partner’s guiding hand, only bedlam followed.

Full confession: Sometimes I do need help. This isn’t the angry rant of a prideful male feeling emasculated by the woke mob. I’m simply suggesting the default response to a father out with his kids shouldn’t be to assume he is in over his head. Fathers aren’t babysitters. Fathers alone with their children are just parents parenting.

It’s not babysitting; it’s parenting

Once, I was at the zoo. At the time, I only had two kids. I had them in a stroller. I was wearing a backpack, and the stroller was kitted out with all the survival equipment one needs to endure an outing with tiny monsters. This was during the work week, so the other parents — equally kitted out, equally with their hands full — were mostly women.

I had dozens of people look at me and say, “Wow, you’ve got YOUR hands full!” Each time, I smiled and made increasingly smart-ass replies (remember, always about to say something ridiculous).

I noticed the same comments were not being made to the equally encumbered women around me. They had their hands full, too. However, only the bumbling dad needed encouragement.

I accept that the previous generation of men bare some burden for the bumbling dad archetype. Some may call the past generations the “greatest,” or behave as if they were somehow part of a time when the United States was “better,” but many fathers back then dropped the ball. A lot of absent dads discarded their children, either to chase careers or other women with whom they could procreate. So maybe men earned this judgment on their own. Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, I think it’s time society stop assuming that a dad alone with his child is in over his head.

Equal roles require equal help

I’m genuinely glad good people desire to do good things. It’s one of humanity’s most endearing qualities, but our broad assumptions need to become more enlightened. We need to start seeing a father as sharing parenting duties equally with a mother. (Well, OK — dads can’t grow humans, eject those humans, and feed same humans with our bodies, so, you now, there’s that.)

A father’s parenting duties isn’t limited to ball fields and arenas. It’s not just the garage and the backyard. A father can take his kid to the doctor, to ballet, and anywhere else his kids need him. It’s not punishment. It’s not a scheduling fail. People — it is called parenting, and dads do it, too.

And now I’m not sure exactly how to end this. I sure could use your help.

Just kidding. I got this.

Photo: © Jacob Lund / Adobe Stock.

Our longtime partner Dove Men+Care is teaming with the National Basketball Players Association in an effort to better society for Black men.

The Commit to C.A.R.E (Care About Racial Equity) Now Initiative will showcase, honor and celebrate the humanity of Black men while addressing issues such as public safety, safe and fair voting, community engagement and the accurate portrayal of Black men in media.

“Black men and our community have been suffering far too long from the negative portrayals that have been built into our society, which is why we are honored to partner with the NBPA to help drive transformative change and amplify the voices and work of the players,” Esi Eggleston Bracey, chief operating officer of the men’s grooming products parent, Unilever N.A. Beauty and Personal Care, said in a news release. “We all have a responsibility to advocate for racial equity, including challenging the misrepresentation of Black men to help save lives. This partnership will help us work towards a brighter and more just future.”

The Commit to C.A.R.E. Now Initiative asks people to help by doing two things:

1. Sign the Commit To C.A.R.E. Now Pledge

The pledge says signers will:

• Educate themselves and start courageous conversations about racial injustices, particularly with Black men.
• Take personal responsibility to stand up against racism, lead by example and spread the message.
• Be an advocate for the cause by supporting legislative change that will help save lives.

2. Sign a petition for The George Floyd Justice in Policing Act

The petition encourages the U.S. Senate to pass legislation (H.R. 7120) that offers a comprehensive approach to hold police accountable, end racial profiling, change the culture of law enforcement, empower our communities, and build trust between law enforcement and our communities by addressing systemic racism and bias to help save lives.

Black Men Care video released

A recently released video for the initiative features pros Chris Paul, Donovan Mitchell, Aaron Gordon, Jaylen Brown and Danny Green promoting their work to correct the depictions of Black men in media and culture that too often rely on harmful stereotypes.

“Our partnership with Dove Men+Care is groundbreaking because it emphasizes the humanity of our players and calls on the world to see them as men – not just as athletes. We are eager and committed to systemic change that will make the world more equitable for them and for all Black men,” Payne Brown, president of THINK450, the innovation and partnership engine of the NBPA, said in a news release.

The Commit to C.A.R.E. Now Initiative is one of many Dove Men+Care has taken over the years to try to try the public’s perception of modern fatherhood. City Dads Group has worked with them multiple times on campaigns to champion men in their roles as fathers, such as the fight for paid paternity leave. This year, the company has placed more of an emphasis on matters of racial violence and injustice.

In June, it launched “Father’s Day Taken,” a pro-fatherhood fundraising initiative to remember the thousands of black dads who have lost their lives due to racism and violence, and the families left behind. DM+C established a fund to invest $1 million to support these families in need.