Personal Identity Project: {Black} Fatherhood

Daddy D and I have had countless discussions on race and identity in the years before Alina was conceived. Surprise surprise, always initiated by me. I have approached him with every angle of “what if’s” or “and then what’s” I could think of. I desired to know and feel his experience as an African American man the best I could. I love him, and want to understand how his ethnicity has impacted his identity. Because although I myself am a minority, I will never pretend to know what its like to grow up as a Black man in the United States.

The thing about my husband, however, is that he pretty much is THE most optimistic person I know. He genuinely sees the good in people. Not that he is unaware, or blind, to the struggles his skin color presents him. Just that he does not grant it much warrant, and therefore thought, in his everyday life. This is in stark contrast to my over analytical, at {too many} times defensive, and {always} protective stance of who I am, who my husband is. And you better believe I am all those things and more when it comes to who my daughter is. Maybe that’s why my husband and I are such a good match. When I say “OMG, did you see how that lady looked at us”, his responsive is usually a simple “nope”. I love that about him.

So when the Father’s Day fiasco went down at My Brown Baby, and I wrote my subsequent post about the blogging drama, I asked my husband what it meant to him to be a Black father. His answer, in a nutshell, was “I was raised by an amazing Black dad. Its all I know, all I’ll ever know. I just want Alina to be happy and provided for, like all good Dads want”.

As a wife and mother, that assertion was more than enough. The strength and confidence in his identity gives my ever-doubting state of mind a solid peace on which to rest my life. But, the thinker in me wanted more; a better understanding to what I knew, undoubtedly, had an impact on how a man parents their child. In a moment’s time, I knew where the next stop would be on this thinking train.

I met Jermaine many years ago, when we were both young and working feverishly for a nonprofit servicing “at-risk youth”, who are some of the coolest kids I’ve ever met. Jermaine now works as a Marriage and Family Therapist in San Diego, California and blogs at A Beautiful Mess. Jermaine is a wonderful person and an amazing father. Thank you for contributing to my Personal Identity Project, my dear friend!

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Being a black father holds a duality that I am very used to. In my life, there has always been “Jermaine”, and then the awareness that I’m “Black Jermaine”. At school, work, or other social settings, it’s been necessary to have a black filter. A question that comes up often in my busy mind is “what should I not say when a police officer pulls me over?” Or, “is this outfit professional enough for a black man?” These are issues that my son may experience one day. Granted, there are things that are universal to fatherhood. However, there are also things specific to being a black father.

For me, being a father is about the everyday moments that people don’t see. It’s more about the grunt work of parenting, such as preparing meals, giving baths, playtime, nursing scrapes and ailments, and being a disciplinarian- the bad guy. Like many fathers, I value the conversations on the ride to and from daycare, and the walks around the neighborhood. These are the simple things that are so important in building the relationship with my son. I appreciate the admiration from those who see a black man at the zoo with his son, but fatherhood is not for show. Many folks see this as a novelty, due to the many stereotypes about absentee black fathers. This is just one of many stereotypes that my son will have to face in his life as a black man.

As a black father, I feel the need to prepare my son for a world that has often been unkind to black folks. However, I have to be careful not to impose my experience onto him. Even though he was born during a time when a black man was elected president, I still worry about how the world will treat him. I think about the stereotypes that still exist, such as all black men being athletes, rappers, criminals, violent, sexually aggressive…I’ll stop here. I worry about how he will handle the micro-aggressions, which are the more common form of racism in the post-civil rights era. Micro-aggressions are the subtle racial slights that are often unintentional, but sting nonetheless (“wow Jermaine, you speak so well!”). Also, he may encounter internalized racism from within the black community. The reality is that I will not be able to shield him from this. As a black father my duty is not only to guide my son, but to also instill a sense of identity that will hopefully armor his pride. This begins with his name.

I believe that people take on the characteristics of their names. My son was given my middle name, Rashad, which means “wisdom”, “good judgment”, or “right guidance” in Arabic. My hope is that with guidance from his mom and dad, he grows into a wise, well adjusted man. I also wanted him to have a name that represents him as a black man. When his teacher is taking attendance on the first day of school, I’d like for him to be proud of his name. No offense, but the names “Timothy” or “James” could easily be a black kid, or a white kid. No mistakes will be made about who Rashad is. He will be the handsome, brown skinned kid, with the million dollar smile.

Jermaine Simpson: I’m a family therapist with an appreciation for people’s journeys and life experiences. We all have a unique story of how we came to be who we are today. A Beautiful Mess is my perspective on life’s struggles, triumphs, and quest for happiness. Besides being a therapist, I’m the proud father of a wonderful son. I’m also a student of life. For over 10 years, my passion has been helping children, teens, and families improve their quality of life. I also enjoy being a college educator and giving back to my community.

Comments

Happy For Life says:

July 23, 2011 at 12:25 am

Love it!

Weather Anchor Mama says:

July 23, 2011 at 5:41 am

Love this post! It’s a shame that there are so many people that would still say racially inappropriate things like “wow you speak so well.” I am a black woman and I remember hearing that a lot growing up (from white people).

I recently overheard a co-worker mentioning how shocked he was after meeting black musicians who delivered the positive message to other young men about the importance of speaking English and not “Ebonics.” He went on to say how “shocked” he was to hear it. He thought he was paying these “black guys” a compliment. However, I found it a bit insulting. There seems to be that if you’re a hip hop musician, then behave and speak a certain way. Your post is great food for though. Grassi!