Man hours: fathering
The life a man lives opens a world to his child.
By Sharon McLeod
A busy columnist staffs the demanding press gallery at City Hall in Canada’s largest city; he looks like some kind of urban soldier. Press releases and paper conceal his desk, people constantly interrupt him, and his blackberry buzzes endlessly. The columnist, Royson James, writes for the largest daily in Canada. He calmly negotiates the chaos and carefully screens the calls and emails he answers on his phone but when he says, “I gotta take this,” it’s his son calling. This portrait is a metaphor for contemporary fathering in Canada. This changing and increasingly important role involves mastery: of yourself, of the needs of the people who love you; of the adaptability to deal with the unknown future.
This story is a chronicle about fathering that centers on the lives of three Toronto fathers: a journalist, a youth consultant and a pastor. Theirs is a truth that illuminates the complexity of 21st century fathering. Their stories bring us to intersections of fear, faith, choice and intention. Differences notwithstanding, what we know for sure is that the fine print of a man’s emotional and social history will become the benefit or baggage of his children.
Fathers and fathering needs to be included in the national conversation as much has changed. Fathers are no longer supporting cast members with pay cheques, but co-hosts in the production of family. Failure to analyze fathering in modern society puts us in peril. The profile of Canadian fathers is telling: They are more likely to be employed, own a home and enjoy better emotional and physical health than men who don’t father. Approximately 12 percent of Canadian men are fathers to a child 18 and under and the average age of Canadian fathers now exceeds 40. But the details, diversity and traditions of fathering differ markedly. A report by Statistics Canada, Making Fathers Count asserts that definitions of fatherhood continue to evolve. “Once confined to the role of breadwinner, todays fathers are more likely to be involved in the day-to-day care giving of children,” says the report. What we know from this research is “beyond a simple biological bond between a child and adult male, the current meaning of fatherhood has a social construction,” and this is where it gets complex.
If you listen closely to Canadian men, you learn that there is a vast gulf between simply being a present father and being a psychologically present father. The latter is earned, practiced and comes at a high cost. A cost that means no one is spared guilt, shame and doubt, and all are exposed to the landmine that is, or can be, child rearing in 2011.
Royson James is a lean, statuesque man at six feet, happily married to wife Audrey. He possess a self-assuredness you just know took decades to cement. He is the only African-Canadian daily columnist in the massive Toronto newspaper market, and luckily for him and his readers, he works at the paper with the largest readership, The Toronto Star. James has been fathering for three decades – he says it never stops. He has a 33-year-old daughter living in New York, two sons: a 30-year-old law student, and a 25-year-old entrepreneur, and his baby is a 16-year-old daughter whose social media skills make James feel like a rookie.
In a fight for work life balance, he holds informal summit meetings with friends equally concerned about their children, cries when he doesn’t understand, and is clear that if he had it to do again, Toronto would be meeting the head of the black tiger dads. He is not content with good. For James, social progress means you have to do better than the generation before you. The son of an orderly and maid, this first-generation son of Jamaica says ‘go big, or stay home.’ With this benchmark he reminds his children, and the children he loves by extension, that a college degree, a drug free life, and a clean record are not exceptional, but rather, expected. The puzzling piece is that even with all his success, James doesn’t think he’s there yet.
The difference between here, and there, is social capital.
Social capital says May Friedman, mother of four and Professor of social work at Ryerson University is about men “maximizing the impact of their connections to facilitate opportunity for their children.” The catch is, “it’s highly potent, but slippery and intangible all at the same time,” Friedman says. “You don’t know you have it, till you have it, and once you aspire to it, you know you never had it.” It’s men understanding that the places they go, the people they know, the books they read and the attention they pay to their souls converts to currency for their children.
To amass this capital one must be intentional, resilient and engaged. The complexity is in the notion that social capital comes down to what some men do, and what some men have.
Nation Cheong knows that when it comes to fathering, deeds speak. A father of two by age 20, he has perfected the cosmopolitan hustle. Build, own, change, heal and then repeat. He is a single father who admits, “what people don’t know about single fathers is that they cry.” A youth consultant, artist and documentarian, he is our reminder that informed parenting always has a yield, and never goes out of style. Single fatherhood is viable, at times necessary, and can, with a commitment to psychological presence, be transformative. For Cheong, it’s a happy ending built on lots of difficult days.
The implication for Canadian fathers is that social capital must, in our generation, be elevated to its own intelligence. Men, and their co-parents with, must concede to the belief that their children are raised by more than just them. Friedman says living a visible and connected life is an investment that raises children literally and figuratively.
Social capital, as Friedman sees it, is not “everything I learned from my father, it’s everything I learned because of my father.” The linking of social capital and fathering should not suggest that fathers are more central to our well-being than mothers; it’s the idea that mindful and intentional fathering matters more than we ever thought it did.
Frank Dell’Erba, a.k.a. Pastor Frank, belongs to the new school. He preaches endless reflection, and a willingness to say you are sorry. Loving his wife Irene and parenting is about putting yourself second, acknowledging your fear and stretching your faith. Balancing church, family and his own commitment to self-care prove tiring – but love, he says, is a decision. He is deliberate, meek and self-aware — assets, he knows will sustain him. Second generation Italian-Canadian, he borrows from his father’s wisdom, and makes it a habit to learn from his past. Lessons, he says, mean knowing when to do things differently. What he is determined to do for his children, a son of three and daughter not yet a month old, are the things he needed more of. Dell’Erba has a dignity, a grace and a gift for helping the souls he has a penchant for getting. His fathering journey teaches him love, forgiveness and grace daily — all the things he knows God has for him.
For men whose master status is father, pride must be put in its place. These storie affirm that Canadian fathers are not a monolith, but a tapestry of lives with distinct trajectories where failure and progress sometimes share the same street address. What makes James, Cheong and Dell’Erba the same is a quest for balance and the humility to admit what they don’t know. It’s admitting that for the time being, there are more questions than answers.
Looking into the lives of men is about lessons learned daily. Lessons shaped by the past, and complicated by culture, masculinity, privilege, migration, age, race, intellect and loss. All devoted to service, it is not strange that these men are as concerned about other children as they are their own.
James knows the mark of a good parent is concern for all children, and he worries some vulnerable families are in danger of being left behind. This informs his volunteerism, exceptional service and devotion to the black and faith communities in particular. Anticipating the needs of his and other young people keeps him up at night, and makes him open to new schools of thought, accepting that you can never know enough. The son of blue-collar immigrant parents is clear; we need to be doing better with all the opportunity this country affords. In his mind mothers have done their part, its fathers that must now catch up.
That for him starts with no apologies for wanting more, way more. For him, average is not an aspiration, it’s slothfulness — which ensures mediocrity will be a constant companion. He decries ‘just enough,’ and wants his kids, who he says benefited from massive amounts of social capital, to come out boxing.
James’s lesson can be ours. Essentially, Man hours is a celebration of involved, active fathering — the kind of fathering that if embraced could mean the transformation of the Canadian family.
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