One day during my daily Green Line commute, I noticed a young brother with a little girl slumped in his arms wearing a “Daddy’s Girl” beanie. He removed her pacifier and placed her in a pink stroller. For what seemed like the rest of their ride he stared at the little girl as she slept. One could only imagine what he was thinking. Was he reflecting on his life? Thinking about his hopes and dreams for the baby girl lying in the stroller? Or he could’ve just been contemplating what was for dinner that evening. As the train slowed at their stop, he snatched up the diaper bag on the seat next to him, unlocked the stroller, and exited the train. It was a beautiful and tender moment. Thankfully I have the pleasure of witnessing these moments often.
Due to hundreds of years of pervasive dehumanizing images of Black males and publications like the Moynihan Report, which outlined the “deep roots of Black poverty in the United States,” Black men have not been afforded the luxury of being collectively seen as nurturers and caregivers. The stereotype that Black men are not fathers is interwoven into our collective consciousness. In spite of high unemployment rates, mass incarceration, and gun violence, so many Black men are determined to be fathers. It’s unfortunate that even as a Black man, I find it difficult to speak to the intrinsic nature of fatherhood without it being grounded in the pain and struggle of the Black experience.
Black Fatherhood
Antonio with Toniya and Ra’Shon in WoodlawnCredit: W.D. Floyd
