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Fatheralong
ByPerhaps this is not for me to say, but evolving definitions of "man" and "father" seem, to my mind, deeply consistent with the goals of feminism. My own relationship with Kenyatta has been an ongoing study in learning to understand the value of "women's work" and why it's a bad idea to, even subconsciously, process it that way. I'm talking about basic things--like picking up your socks. On our kitchen cabinets, right now, there's a sign that says "CLOSE THE DOOR!!!" which I put there because my male-privileged ass (and Samori's male-privileged ass) always leave them open. We take it for granted that someone will close them. Guess who that would be?
What I'm
trying to get at is some sort of cultural shift in our discussion of
men, and their family duties, which mirrors the shift we're pushing for
in the roles of women. One can hew to the very traditional view that
fathers, and in their absence male role-models, and mothers, and in
their absence female role-models, are essential to the business of
making young men and young women. But at the same time take the more
radical step of interrogating what we mean when we say "father." And
all of that can be done with the understanding the young men and women
are being made in all sorts of circumstances these days. An effort to
reduce absentee fatherhood, isn't the same as an effort to condemn
families which, for whatever reason, lack fathers.





























This is a good point. Also, I'd like to see some sort of dialogue in which fathers come to understand that time is as important as money--in fact, in my humble experience, as a Dad and as son, it's actually more important.
There needs to be some understanding of how men process the inability to provide for their families. I spent a solid eight years like that. I can't imagine how I would have felt had we been truly broke down and unable to provide for Samori.
When I was working on the book, I talked to my Dad about his own father, who he last saw alive when he was nine. Now, my Dad has seven kids by four women. I've said that many times. (To people who are new here, can read about that here and here.) Anyway, when I was interviewing him for my memoir, we talked a lot about the moment when he decided to leave the Panthers. He had five kids, by three women at the time. The oldest was five, and the youngest wasn't even one. I wasn't born yet, and had my Mom not urged my Dad on (it's all in the book) neither me or my younger brother Menelik would be here.
He talked about leaving the Party, basically, to go fulfill his obligations as a father. And how, at that moment, he gained some insight into my grandfather, and how a man could be so overwhelmed by the prospect of providing, that he just walks away. There is deep-seated depression, a kind of emasculation in not being able to do, what feels like, your most elemental job--protect your family. My Dad didn't walk obviously, but always helps to understand the other side--even as you offer a rebuke. Condemnation has its place. Condemnation, with no deep sense of what its condemning, is vanity.
I think men take the financial troubles of a family differently than women--rather men have the luxury to take them differently. But some understanding, followed by some redefinition, would help. If we're going to do away with the notion of man as the hunter, as the dude's whose job it is to go out and kill things, (and I'm fine with that) then there has to be some emphasis on man and woman as protectors of the home, and some expansion of what, precisely, protection entails.