““You’re your Father’s son”. ”
That’s my mother's favorite phrase to use whenever my actions remind her of the resentment she harbors for my Father. Their dynamic leaves me with more questions than it does answers. Nevermind her disdain for the man. I'll let God address that in his time.
Me and my Dad are as thick as thieves, while also being nothing alike. My Father is a reformed drug dealer and addict, NYU graduate, social worker, and work’s at the post office. He once dropped an Album in a rap group called The Homeboys. He's tall, smart, charismatic, and smooth with the kind of voice that makes people feel comfortable no matter what his lips are saying.
My Dad, like most young men was my first superhero. Growing up he was invincible. He could do no wrong in my eyes. Simply put; he was perfect. That was until the day I came home from elementary school to our Coney Island apartment and saw his belongings lying outside our home.
We never talked about that day. But that was the moment our relationship began to change. It was the first time I saw my Superman bleed.
Over the years my relationship with my Dad has shifted. I remember at one point wanting to physically fight him. I remember feeling as tho I never had a Father, like my Dad was just some dude in the street -- and I was simply responsible for my own life without his input or guidance. I remember the moment my Dad became my enemy. I also remember the moment in which I fell in love with him again, and eventually became friends.
It started with a conversation.
ME AND MY OLD MAN
SUMMER '16
I believe that lessons can be learned thru conversations. My Dad, is not the fighter that my mother is. My dad thrives in, and loves to communicate using his words. He loves to talk to me about basketball and music. The stories of how he and my Uncle Donald worked with Michael Jackson. How my Uncle Jerry was nominated for Grammys. How he snuck into a James Brown concert at the Apollo theater in Harlem when he was kid. My Dad loves to talk, and till the day I die, I will always listen. He's at his best, and most authentic self when he is communicating and reflecting on his feelings and experiences.
I just wish he talked to me more about how much he loved my Mother, or any woman for that matter.
My Dad is 60+ years old and we've never talked about his relationship with my Mother. To be specific, he has never had a conversation with me about how much he loves my Mother, or any woman that he has dated over the years. Sure I know he loves my Mother, but my knowledge is based off an assumption. It's based off me seeing him engage with her in certain moments. But from his mouth, to my ears, I do not know the nuances of the feelings he has for my my Mother. Sure I know he's attracted to her. I don't know about his experiences over the years regarding loving my Mother or any women he has dated. All I know is the assumed love that my Father has for my Mother.
Why is this important for me? Why is this important for men? Why is this important for Black Men, both Fathers and Sons alike?
I remember when my Dad taught me how to ride a bike. Before I ever touched a pedal, he had a conversation with me about riding a bike. He went thru some of the specifics like, "hold your handlebars tight" and "grab this lever to stop the bike from moving". I come from a family of ball players who love the game of basketball, so me and my Dad would always talk about sports. He's a huge Knicks fan, and he loved watching college basketball. We would talk for hours about the nuances of the game of basketball, or about his love for music and fine dining. We would have conversations about his experiences navigating the streets of Harlem and growing up in Jamaica Queens 70s and 80s. He would talk, and I soaked in every single last word.
But as I sit here. 30+ years old and single. I wish my Father spoke to me more about the love he felt for my Mother. I wish my Dad's ambition and zeal wasn't limited to conversations about grown men playing a game. My parents were married for almost 20 years. Surely there are some stories in there? There are experiences, emotions, feelings, actions etc, that are learning experiences. Ones that if shared, could potentially serve as sources of support and reference for me.
I always wondered why whenever I heard a Black Man speak of or reference their wife or girlfriend, it was often done with a level of reluctancy. I was always curious about why my Dad, my friend’s Fathers, and men I grew up around, spoke of their partners/persons etc. with this hyper sense of obligation instead of genuine love and passion? Maybe society and family structures times were different back then? Maybe they were too busy working to share? Maybe they were sharing genuine feelings? I don’t know tbh.
I wish I knew what went on in my Dad's mind the moment he fell in love with my Mother. I would love to talk to him about the feelings and thoughts he had the first time he knew he let her down, or when he knew she was "the one". I would love to know the lessons learned throughout their relationship. What areas and moments he was most proud of, and which moments he wished he could have back. I wish all Fathers, especially Black Dads, talked to their sons about more than Lebron Vs Jordan.
I wish fathers normalized stories about the love they experienced for their person/partner, and the moments they became their partner’s person. There is a greater opportunity for growth in dialogue, than there is in the wilderness of silence. There are lessons to be learned and feelings to be processed. Me and my Dad will continue to grow in our relationship. One day I might be a Father. I'm not certain of much, but I can guarantee you this: My kid will know real love. My kid will experience love first hand in both how I love them, in their observations of how I love my wife, and though the conversations I have with them about the love I came to know upon meeting their mother.
See you at wrk.