Elmer Smith | We need to talk about fatherhood
I LOVE THAT Chris Rock bit about what a guy gets for being a real father.
"All he gets," Rock says, "is the big piece of chicken. That's it, the big piece of chicken."
Some of us also get to control the TV clicker and exclusive use of the big, soft chair in the middle of the room. But that's about it.
Unless you place some value on being the most important man on earth to a person who may remain under your spell for the rest of his or her life.
A lot of us have been reaping that benefit for years. But we don't seem to know how to talk about it.
We're a lot better at talking about what it costs a child to grow up without a father. There has been so much data compiled on that subject, you can get cross-eyed reading the numbers.
Children without a father are more likely to go to jail, less likely to finish school, more likely to have health and psychological problems, more likely to abuse drugs and alcohol, and to resort to violence.
The rising homicide rate in Philadelphia and other big cities is closely correlated with the rise in single-parent households. There were 5 million single-parent households in 1960 and 24 million counted in the 2000 Census. Three out of four were headed by women.
It's a self-perpetuating malaise because girls raised in homes with only one parent are five times as likely to become teen mothers as are girls raised in two-parent families. You see where this is going?
But you could run those numbers in neon lights on two-story billboards without convincing most of these missing men to become real fathers.
It's the wrong message. Nobody is booking passage for that guilt trip.
Those of us who have made the decision to be real fathers didn't sign up after a sermon, and we don't all stay out of a sense of duty.
Plain truth is that most men have never learned to talk about being fathers. Somehow it always ends up sounding like signing up for the draft.
That's a man thing. I've heard men who have been happily married for 30 years make it sound like they're being held hostage. We rarely talk about our children the way mothers do.
Women talk about their children and it makes you think everybody ought to have one. Men make it sound like something that happens when you're not careful.
It's a tougher sell for a lot of young men today than it was for me. They see more baby's daddies than custodial fathers. Marriage comes later, if at all.
The men I grew up around and paid attention to were all fathers. They were the most respected men in my world. If they showed up at a parent-teacher night at school, teachers couldn't wait to talk with them.
By the time I became a man, I wanted to be a father. But I didn't want it for my yet-to-be-born child. I wanted it for me.
We can tell that story. If we're going to arrest a trend that threatens to destroy the fabric of life in our communities, we must tell that story.
Young men don't just need to hear what's going to happen to their children if they're not there to raise them. They need to hear what it feels like to teach their sons how to ride a bike or catch a ball.
They need to know that no one, not even a mother, can make their daughters feel desirable and worthy of being loved the way they can.
They need to know there is nothing you can shoot up or snort up or rub on that can match the feeling you get when you see your child starting to walk like you or talk the way you do.
A lot of us have had moments like that, defining moments. That's what we get out of being fathers.
That and the big piece of chicken.
[from philly.com]
current mood: bustin'
current noise: "new friend request" by gym class heroes
I LOVE THAT Chris Rock bit about what a guy gets for being a real father.
"All he gets," Rock says, "is the big piece of chicken. That's it, the big piece of chicken."
Some of us also get to control the TV clicker and exclusive use of the big, soft chair in the middle of the room. But that's about it.
Unless you place some value on being the most important man on earth to a person who may remain under your spell for the rest of his or her life.
A lot of us have been reaping that benefit for years. But we don't seem to know how to talk about it.
We're a lot better at talking about what it costs a child to grow up without a father. There has been so much data compiled on that subject, you can get cross-eyed reading the numbers.
Children without a father are more likely to go to jail, less likely to finish school, more likely to have health and psychological problems, more likely to abuse drugs and alcohol, and to resort to violence.
The rising homicide rate in Philadelphia and other big cities is closely correlated with the rise in single-parent households. There were 5 million single-parent households in 1960 and 24 million counted in the 2000 Census. Three out of four were headed by women.
It's a self-perpetuating malaise because girls raised in homes with only one parent are five times as likely to become teen mothers as are girls raised in two-parent families. You see where this is going?
But you could run those numbers in neon lights on two-story billboards without convincing most of these missing men to become real fathers.
It's the wrong message. Nobody is booking passage for that guilt trip.
Those of us who have made the decision to be real fathers didn't sign up after a sermon, and we don't all stay out of a sense of duty.
Plain truth is that most men have never learned to talk about being fathers. Somehow it always ends up sounding like signing up for the draft.
That's a man thing. I've heard men who have been happily married for 30 years make it sound like they're being held hostage. We rarely talk about our children the way mothers do.
Women talk about their children and it makes you think everybody ought to have one. Men make it sound like something that happens when you're not careful.
It's a tougher sell for a lot of young men today than it was for me. They see more baby's daddies than custodial fathers. Marriage comes later, if at all.
The men I grew up around and paid attention to were all fathers. They were the most respected men in my world. If they showed up at a parent-teacher night at school, teachers couldn't wait to talk with them.
By the time I became a man, I wanted to be a father. But I didn't want it for my yet-to-be-born child. I wanted it for me.
We can tell that story. If we're going to arrest a trend that threatens to destroy the fabric of life in our communities, we must tell that story.
Young men don't just need to hear what's going to happen to their children if they're not there to raise them. They need to hear what it feels like to teach their sons how to ride a bike or catch a ball.
They need to know that no one, not even a mother, can make their daughters feel desirable and worthy of being loved the way they can.
They need to know there is nothing you can shoot up or snort up or rub on that can match the feeling you get when you see your child starting to walk like you or talk the way you do.
A lot of us have had moments like that, defining moments. That's what we get out of being fathers.
That and the big piece of chicken.
[from philly.com]
current mood: bustin'
current noise: "new friend request" by gym class heroes
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