I’m a Dad. WTF?

There are no rules. There are no magic spells or formulas to master. I’ve read tons of books and came away more confused and frustrated. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, “I’m a dad. WTF?”

Most of the parents I admire were parented well. They had moms and dads who they could apply Bruce Lee’s idea of: “Absorb what is useful, discard what is not. Add what is uniquely your own.” My parents were horrible, so I am building my parenting style almost from scratch. Growing up I had two friends whose parents treated me like I was their own. I was Harry and they were the Weasley’s. I noted what made me feel safe and loved, and I try to mimic that — filtered through my own style — with my daughter. These last eight years have not been easy.

Raising a child is a tough slog, uphill, with volcanic ash and magma raining down on you. Trying to raise a child in a society that privileges capitalism and all its attendant evils (overconsumption, esteem connected to bank balance), over a child’s well being, is hard enough. Now add gender (bias) and race (racism) to it. With the ash and magma, you’re also being sprayed by broken glass, shuriken, and feces. And seriously, I wouldn’t change a thing.

I love being a dad. I am also blessed with a partner who is a damn good mom. Together, we are a great team. We have our strengths and our weaknesses and can cover for each other in a way that enhances our family cohesion. I joke that I’m the play parent while my wife is the cuddle parent. We have our roles, sometimes they overlap, but we have our lanes. Sometimes this hurts. It would be nice to be the parent my daughter runs to when she is crying, or the parent she curls up with.

Not to say that we don’t have affection, or that she doesn’t trust me with her emotions, but we tend more towards vanquishing dragons than talking about complex playground social dynamics. If I’m honest, I’m probably not well equipped to handle most of the emotional stuff because some of the things my daughter shares makes me want to knuckle up with some eight-year-olds. I’m listening to her, shaking my head, thinking, “I’m a dad. WTF?”

The intrigues and the alliances and the ostracizing of kids who don’t fit certain molds — there is money to be made in reality shows that cover the lives of third-graders while they’re at school. The drama is incredible. Here is a true example of what I’m talking about:

My daughter is a fool for Hamilton. She has the entire soundtrack memorized and she’s read the Hamilton: The Revolution book. This is something she and her mother share. I’m out of the look on this one. One of her peers is also a fan. This little boy steps to my daughter and asks her if she knows what a “whore” is. She tells me this story and then asks me what it means. I’m of the mind if you’re old enough to ask in proper context, you’re old enough to receive a proper answer. I explained to her what it meant. She then asked me, “So kind of like what people think about Kim Kardashian?” This shocked me a couple of ways. How did she know who Kim Kardashian was? How did she contextualize it that way? We had a very long talk about the sexism, objectification and the social criminalization of women’s bodies. We also talked about how you can’t knock a hustler’s hustle, unless the hustle is detrimental or damaging to others. Just because we think someone is useless doesn’t mean that other folks don’t find them (and their offerings) valuable. We concluded by exploring what our family valued and how that will be in conflict with most popular culture. And she got it. She asked so many amazing follow-up and clarifying questions. I was doing that daddy shit! The next day we were driving on Gilman in Berkeley, CA and every corner by the freeway had a group of homeless people. My daughter begins to wail. It was so intense I had to pull over. I crawled in the back and held her. I talk too much, so I waited to see if she would offer up what she was going through. It took her a minute then, in the quietest voice I’ve ever heard her use, she asked, “Why are there homeless people? Why are people okay with people not having food or houses? Don’t they have people to love them?” I cried right along with her.

I had nothing.

“I suck at this parenting shit,” spun around my head for a week.

It was a lesson I haven’t forgotten. The lesson of: parents are human and humans don’t always have the (right) answers.

Few things force you to know your talents and weaknesses like being a parent. It is an education with a pretty steep learning curve. What follows is what I’ve learned. It isn’t the truth it is my truth. It isn’t the way it is a way. Maybe you’ll find something valuable, maybe you won’t.

- You won’t have answers for all of your child’s questions. The important thing is they feel safe enough to ask you.

- Kids of color have experienced racism, bigotry, and prejudice. They may not have the words to explain it to you. Be watchful and mindful.

- Girls (and kids who identify as girls) have experienced sexism and misogyny. They may not have the words to explain the impact of this to you. Be watchful and mindful.

- If you have a partner, the healthier your relationship is, the healthier your child will be.

- You’ll suck at a whole lot. This doesn’t mean that you can’t learn and get better.

- If you have a partner, each of you will have a different relationship with your child. Not better or worse, just different. Play parent. Cuddle Parent.

- Money is not a substitute for time and attention. As someone who grew up violently poor, I have some level of poverty consciousness. Since I came up broke, but do okay now; I never want my daughter to feel the sting of lack. Not even for one second. So sometimes I confuse buying things for love and affection. Our best days have been using toy swords and wands to fight all kinds of mystical beasts.

- Patience isn’t a virtue. It is a constituent part of your parenting. It is a keystone to your foundation.

- Kids are young, not stupid. Treat them as the budding intellects they are. Why listen to (or sing) nursery rhymes when there’s Jimi Hendrix and The Specials?

- Your kid will get hurt (physical and/or emotionally) and you can’t do a damn thing about it. This is parental mortality. When you realize that parenting doesn’t make you superhuman. It makes you all too human.

- Sometimes all you can offer is a hug and a kiss. Sometimes this is all they need.

- If your kid does dangerous playground tricks, this means they trust you. Despite the near heart attacks you experience. Your kid doing some Parkour shit is a good thing.

-Representation matters. If you want them to be it, expose them to it.

Like I stated, these are my lessons. My truths. Hopefully they spur you to reflect on yours.

I just reread all of this. I’m a dad. WTF?