BLOGGER'S NOTE: This essay originally appeared in my new book "Raising My V.O.I.C.E. (Verbalizing Orderly Impressions through Creative Endeavors)".
August 2005
I am my wife’s biggest fan.
I rooted for her during her playing days at the University of Tennessee. She was a shooting guard on the women’s basketball team, winning national championships in 1989 and 1991 under legendary coach Pat Summitt.
I rooted for her when she got her first government job. She spent seven years investigating waste, fraud and abuse in the Tennessee valley.
But most of all, I rooted for her when she gave birth to our son Caleb, now 20 months old.
My wife’s climb up the corporate ladder has been a testament of God’s grace. Even as I write this piece, I find myself wondering if, and when, her ascension will ever slow down. Current trends say it won’t. When she sets her sights on something, she doesn’t stop until she gets it.
She was recently selected to participate in her current employer’s career leadership program. This program is allowing her to test and build upon her innate leadership abilities during assignments in Memphis, Tennessee and Washington, DC. The next rung on the corporate ladder waits, as she will undoubtedly apply for (with my full blessing) and secure a mid-level or senior management position within her agency.
You should know that I used to work as well, rising from humble beginnings – single-parent mother with very few resources – to direct a program in Central Massachusetts that prepares 70 low-income and first-generation high school students for college. I supervised a staff of three full-time employees and 12 part-time/seasonal. I resigned from this position in August of this year to become a stay-at-home parent, or what many refer to as a Mr. Mom.
Actor Michael Keaton, the star of the film aptly titled Mr. Mom, made being a full-time domestic look easy after he mastered the tricks of the trade. He tended to the needs of his child, maintained the household, and even got a chance to mingle with the neighborhood housewives. The housewives and I haven’t gotten together to ruminate over tea and carrot cake, but I’m close to cornering the market on the other two.
Most men my age – I’m thirty-seven – would frown at the idea of staying home with the kids. I used to be in this number, asking, “What kind of man would I be?” Your days are spent changing soiled diapers, and reading book after book after book to your child. But that isn’t the worst part. Caleb has the mindset of a tornado, blowing through the kitchen cabinets to pull out pots and pans or rummage through closets to find items that had been missing for weeks, months even. Repeatedly picking up after my son has become an expected part of my daily routine.
But my daily routine also includes my wife’s Honey-Do List. She wants me to clean the house, wash the clothes, pay the bills, and have a hot meal prepared for her at the end of her workday. You better believe I balked when the realities of my decision hit me. She’s getting off easy, I told myself, her only concern being the rigors of her job. When will I get a home-cooked meal prepared for me? But, seconds later, it dawned on me: We are both doing what we can to keep the family moving forward and upward.
My wife has been the primary breadwinner for as long as we have been married. People outside of us think I, the man of the household, should have a problem with that. I’m not going to lie; it was a hard pill to swallow at first. I asked myself, “Isn’t the man supposed to take care of his wife and kids?” My response: It really shouldn’t matter when both slices of the bacon are being fried in one skillet.
A new day is upon us. Gone are the days when men are the only ones working full-time jobs to make ends meet. I love June Cleaver, the devoted housewife who doted over her two sons, Wally and the Beaver, and always had a hot meal waiting on her husband Ward when he stepped through the door at the end of his workday. But attorney Claire Huxtable defines today’s woman.
Today’s woman is intelligent, strong, bold, and committed to pushing herself through the glass ceiling. That doesn’t mean they are any less responsive to the needs of their husbands or children; it just means they have personal goals that must be achieved. Claire Huxtable was a practicing attorney in Bill Cosby’s native Philadelphia, but the rigors of the job didn’t prevent her from spending quality time with her four children.
For so long, husbands have asked their wives to put the pursuit of their goals on hold, assuring them that they can keep the house afloat on one income. Yes, they recognize that their wives earned undergraduate and graduate degrees from accredited institutions of higher learning. And, yes, they understand that the cost of living in most cities is forever on the rise. But they don’t make this request selfishly. Many men have been raised to believe that women, because they give birth to children, are wired by the Creator to be more nurturing to their children.
All of us, specifically men, have the capacity to be child nurturers. There was a time when I felt differently, however. On one hand, I can count the number of soiled diapers I changed before my son’s birth. The same holds true for the number of feedings I administered. But being a father has shown me that it’s not about the number of diapers changed or feedings administered; it’s about being present in the life of your child.
As a black American male, I have heard countless reports about how we have failed to establish a presence in our children’s lives. My own journey saw my father living in the same city, but very rarely spending quality time with me. He would readily admit that back in the late 60’s and 70’s, he was both young and irresponsible. I once thought he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
Today, my father and I get along well. As an outsider looking in, you would probably think that it had always been this way. The bitterness that I once harbored toward him for being a deadbeat has disappeared. It has been replaced with a burning desire to have him present in my future, make up for the opportunities we missed to really get to know each other.
Not being present has seemingly been the most significant knock against black American males since Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation. Prior to this proclamation, they were taken from their women and children against their wills to do the bidding of their white masters. Now, we have the freedom to decide what’s in our best interest.
But this longstanding freedom isn’t encouraging black American men to keep their families intact. If this were the case, the U.S. Census Bureau wouldn’t have reported in 1996 that nearly three out of 10 (27 percent) (black American) children under 18 lived with only one parent, or that approximately four million (black American) grandchildren lived in the home of their grandparents. Black American males are noticeably absent from their children’s lives. Consequently, I think that’s the major reason why many of us are not reaping the full benefits of our civil rights.
My son is at my feet, playing with the keys to our apartment, trying to unlock the dresser drawer. He looks up at me, smiling, perhaps knowing that his search for a keyhole will be fruitless, and I see the six teeth that he will be using to tear into some of Memphis’ famous barbeque ribs. I’m proud to say he will never know what it’s like to not have a dominant male role model in his life. I will always be present. Not just because I’m his father, and that’s where I’m supposed to be, but because I have learned a valuable lesson.
Men, true men, become selfless rather than selfish when it comes to sowing into the lives of their children. They see the future when looking into their children’s eyes. Thinking about the possibilities that this future may hold motivates them to be there to impart knowledge, wisdom.
Like most men, I would like to see my son take up sport – track and field, football or basketball perhaps. But if he’s not athletically inclined, I won’t be disappointed. I would prefer that he do everything he can to protect the integrity of the family. We will continue to have high hopes for him, but his relationship with us is what’s most important. Because this relationship is rooted in love, we will cheer him on in his quest to find himself, his way in the world. And, as his Mr. Mom, I pray that he will know and appreciate what it really means to be a man.
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Copyright 2007 Jeffery A. Faulkerson. All rights reserved.
Posted By: J. A. Faulkerson
Wednesday, August 6th 2008 at 9:29AM
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