Killing myself is no longer an option. Neither is the indulgence of being reckless or careless, self-destructive or indifferent. My life is no longer simply my own to do with as I please. I am inextricably linked to another who is not merely dependent upon me but is emotionally attached to me and to whom my life is significant whether I like it or not, whether I deserve it or not. I am not separate or detached, I am connected and responsible for more than myself. I am a father.
These thoughts, dramatic as they sound, did not spontaneously emerge when I first became a father, nor were they the consequence of some traumatic event or crisis in my life. They simply occurred to me one day when I was quietly reflecting on my relationship with my eldest daughter, Circe, who would have already been about four years old at the time. They didn't signify a sudden change in my lifestyle or attitude. Rather they reflected and crystallised some of the changes that had already taken place within me.
Their significance lay in the fact that prior to Circe's birth, my attitude to myself and those around me had been careless and at times destructive. I had changed during those four years, but this had been gradual, a slow shifting of attitude and deepening of feeling. And there was no question that these changes had emerged out of and been formed by my experience of being a parent.
Such can be the impact of fatherhood. I think it would be true to say that being a father has both challenged and changed me more than anything else in my adult life. More than therapy, more than my partners, more than friends (and enemies), more than politics, education and non-parental work. For although all of the above have affected me in various ways, being a father has influenced my responses and my attitudes to each one of them, it has pervaded all my relationships ever since.
| the more we engage with parenthood the more our ideas of men and masculinity will be challenged |
I imagine this is the case with most parents, mothers and fathers alike. The practical demands of parenthood in terms of childcare and earning a living, the emotional impact of our children upon us, and us upon them, and both their and our relationships with their other parent (and step-parents in many cases), over time all these are likely to challenge our values and attitudes in far reaching and at times very unsettling ways. Being a parent may be ordinary in practice, revolving in the main around the slow and relentless process of daily life, yet its impact is always likely to be profound.
Of course in the vast majority of cases mothers have been, and by all accounts would still appear to be, responsible for the greater quantity of actual childcare on a daily basis. But there is one area in which parenthood is likely to impact upon fathers to a far greater degree, the more so the more actively those fathers engage with their children. This is the area of gender identity, in particular our ideas about masculinity and who we are as men. For I believe that the more we as men engage with parenthood, accepting responsibility for our children and becoming actively involved with their lives, then the more likely it is that our ideas of men and masculinity will be challenged and ultimately changed.
This was certainly my experience. Taking responsibility for my children's welfare, physically and emotionally, in partnership with their mothers, challenged and questioned my identity as a man and my ideas of masculinity in a way that nothing and no-one else has ever done. Furthermore, it confronted what I had initially rejected about masculinity as much as it challenged what I had accepted and taken for granted. This was particularly true when I first became a father in 1976.
Then the independence I had cultivated and the selfishness that went with it was challenged by having someone really dependent upon me. What was more, not only did I have to take Circe's needs into consideration but also those of her mother, Ann. Doing what I wanted when I wanted on the basis that others could do the same no longer held true. Circe did not have the resources I had, she was dependent upon Ann and I. There was no meaningful equivalence here. Similarly, by her willingness to engage with parenthood, Ann was also restricted so that such self indulgence was not an option for her and my indulgence would now be effectively at her expense.
As I slowly recognised the full implications of this, so sacrifice, compromise and collaboration became more important than independence, self gratification and personal ambition. This was hard work for me at first but I am sure it was much harder for Circe and Ann, as they had the additional burden of having to cope with my shortcomings during the time it took for me to fully accept and come to terms with parenthood.
It was during this process of understanding that I had begun to change my careless and destructive tendencies towards myself and others. Circe needed care and stability not chaos and irresponsibility. During my own childhood I had experienced authority as oppressive, autocratic and completely indifferent to the individual. In response to this I had developed a dismissive and anarchic attitude to all authority. This was now confronted by Circe's need for responsible guidance and the setting of appropriate boundaries.
However, my challenge went beyond simply accepting a role of parental authority. For in the process of doing so I discovered an autocratic and authoritarian side to myself that reminded me of nothing so much as my own parents! I hadn't worked through and transformed my relationship with authority at all, I had simply repressed it internally and rebelled against it externally. My radical perspectives suddenly looked rather reactionary!
In finding a balance between these two extreme positions of permissive freedom and autocratic control, I realised that whilst in some respects the anarchistic and irreverent man I had initially become was a polarised opposite of the autocratic macho patriarch I detested, in many ways I was not very different. In practice both these aspects predominantly conformed to traditional masculine stereotypes. I was still selfish and aggressive and my detached independence left me resistant to genuine intimacy and vulnerability.
What was being demanded of me as a father seemed a much greater step into the unknown, not merely incorporating but transforming both of these characters. Becoming both solid and flexible, caring and assertive, receptive and responsible, intimate and loving, an authority who was vulnerable and could acknowledge his flaws. This really did seem to be stepping outside the conventional images of masculinity I had grown up with.
What both helped and challenged me most was Circe's vulnerability, her dependency and need for comfort and care. Not only her helplessness as an infant but her simple trust and affection touched me and softened my heart, forcing me to re-examine and change the aggressive and often hostile attitudes and behaviours that I had developed during my own childhood. Her need for love and nurture on both a physical and emotional level also made me realise how limited was my initial capacity for this compared to that of Ann, her mother. It was through Circe and with the help of Ann that I learnt what it was to really be with and relate from my heart, to love compassionately and unconditionally.
In these ways fatherhood forced me to re-evaluate not only myself and my perspective on men, women and children, but life itself, what was really important and worth living for. Not suddenly and immediately but gradually and continually. In doing so I became aware of how, on a practical level, our society does very little to enable men to participate fully as parents, and equally, how little in practice it values mothers and children.
But this devaluation of parenthood in general and mothers and children in particular is effectively held in place by us as men. Whilst we continue to elevate the value of paid employment and social status outside the home far above that of parenting and relationship, supporting the pursuit of economic growth and mass consumption over and above community and humanitarian values, and putting our own gratification and ambition before the nurturing and development of our children and our relationships, we collude with and reinforce this devaluation.
Challenging this means having to re-examine not only our ideas about ourselves as men, but our childhood, the values and beliefs we have inherited and developed, and our own parents. Because for most of us as men, much of what we were taught and what we experienced in both childhood and adulthood will have supported and reinforced this devaluation. Becoming a father made me realise that nothing in my life previously had prepared me in any way for parenthood. In fact, the little I already knew about fatherhood seemed to be as much of a hindrance as a help.
| being a father did not seem to have too much to do with children |
My experience of my own father was very much a part of this devaluation. From Monday to Friday he went out to work, leaving the house early in the morning and returning in the evening after we had all eaten and not long before we children all went to bed. On Saturdays he went with his friends to watch Spurs play football in the winter, and in the summer he played tennis. The only occasion that we regularly spent time with him without my mother was on Sunday mornings, when we children had to attend church with him, a rather solemn and frankly, boring experience. Whatever church meant to him he never shared with us, it seemed to be simply an act of duty to attend rather than a spiritual experience of depth and meaning.
So whatever else being a father meant, it did not seem to have too much to do with children! However, he was not particularly unusual in this. Everyone else I grew up with appeared to have fathers similarly defined more by their absence than their presence. As far as children went, fathers seemed to be peripheral figures who acted as an occasional helper to mothers.
This lack of engagement on a practical level was reinforced by his emotional detachment. It did not seem as if our presence made that much impact upon him, except when we made too much of a mess or got into trouble. We could disturb and disrupt him but we did not seem to have any particular positive effect upon him. His life seemed to follow the same patterns it had done before we were born and as long as we did not disrupt that we were okay. I've no doubt that we did have an impact upon him emotionally and we certainly did practically on a financial level. But the emotional effect was never apparent to me as a child, it remained beneath the surface, as it seemed to do with the fathers of my friends.
At school the role of fathers appeared equally devoid of any actual involvement with children and childcare. Neither child development nor parenting skills were included in the curriculum at either of my schools. Yet the assumption was that apart from those few boys who would become priests, the rest of us would get married and have children. We were expected to become fathers, but this was not a subject that required learning about, unlike history, geography, maths etc.
Why this was would become clear on the rare occasions when fatherhood as a role would arise in a lesson. For the responsibilities involved never seemed to extend far beyond financially supporting wives and children by being in paid employment. School itself reinforced this message, not only with its limited curriculum which focused almost exclusively on the public world and the skills needed to function as a paid employee. It also made it explicit that this was where status and meaning resided. Gainful employment was the purpose of a man's life and the earning of money was the most important aspiration to fulfil. Being a father made no difference to this, it simply gave added emphasis to our need to be employed and earn.
| it is no longer unusual for a man to be an active parent |
Alongside this limited role of providers there did seem to be a vague idea that as fathers we should also be protectors. It was still considered valuable for a man to have a career in the military and to be willing to fight for one's country when necessary (although even here one still got paid). But being willing to be protectors in this context was neither specific to children nor to the role of fathers. What was being protected had more to do with national sovereignty and material wealth than children and family life. In practical terms fathers were unlikely to be protectors of their children in any meaningful way. For how were they supposed to protect their children if in practice they hardly saw them? It seemed clear that mothers would have to do most of the actual protecting simply by dint of their doing almost all of the childcare.
What is striking about all this is how empty of meaning the role of father was in terms of direct involvement with children. However, this did not mean that fathers had no impact upon their children. More often than not they were still seen as the ultimate authority in the home and when they were present domestic life would generally revolve around their needs. Peripheral did not usually mean insignificant, but the significance was that of the father for the children, created by them in response to their experience of him. This significance was embedded in a general impression that what he did outside the home was much more important to him. His behaviour and public face made it appear that his children were of no great concern compared to his work and his personal interests.
This is not to suggest that such fathers did not feel anything for their children, or that they considered their children unimportant to them. But such feeling and meaning that they had remained private and hidden. How fathers lived their lives in practice did not in the main demonstrate that their children were more than peripheral to them. Whilst their lack of engagement with their children made it difficult for them to really get to know them, leaving their relationships lacking in intimacy and emotional depth.
This external image of peripheral and non-involved fathers was very much reinforced by the social organisation and cultural expectations of men at this time. My own father was not very different to the fathers of my friends. He and they behaved in what they believed to be the appropriate way for a man, with little public deviation from this. Their attitude to fatherhood reflected the traditional images and expectations of masculinity. Being detached and independent, unemotional and invulnerable, non-intimate and rational, devoid of anything feminine, controlling and when necessary authoritarian and punishing. For my father and most of his generation their acceptance of these values reinforced and maintained this limiting (in human terms, including intimacy and fatherhood) yet privileged (in terms of material benefits, social status and family authority) masculinity.
However, this limited view of fatherhood does appear to be changing. The last twenty years or so has seen a gradual shift in the way fatherhood is both perceived and practised. Whilst recognising that the majority of childcare is still carried out by mothers, there has been a definite change in the expectation and actual exercise of fathers' involvement with their children. Taking responsibility for a significant amount of childcare, being nurturing and loving on a material and emotional level, collaborating as parental partners with mothers, all these are increasingly seen as part of a father's responsibility.
| old model of fatherhood has lost cultural legitimacy for many |
It is no longer considered unusual for a man to be an active parent rather than a distant father. Acknowledging openly that as fathers our children have an emotional impact upon us, that we feel attached to them and that they are important to us, has become not only acceptable but desirable. Fatherhood has become more visible and meaningful, although this still remains essentially a cultural phenomenon, one that has not yet been reflected in the political sphere.
For these changes would appear to have developed despite public policy, at least in Britain, where the political agenda for the past twenty years has continued to be dominated by ideals of economic growth and mass consumption. Within the public realms of employment, education and health care, policy generally continues to undermine and devalue parenting whilst effectively discouraging fathers from being active parents.
Long working hours and inflexible approaches towards parental leave, the continuation of women being paid less than men, the emphasis on public career and paid employment alongside the defamation of single mothers, the 'glass ceiling' that excludes women from senior management and other positions of influence and power, the continued exclusion of parenting from the education system. All these are just some of the examples of a public policy that has failed to reflect or respond to the cultural changes around fatherhood and parenting.
But perhaps this is unsurprising and not only because public policy makers tend to be the last rather than the first to notice cultural change. For whilst what is expected of fathers has changed, there seems little evidence to suggest that the majority of men are currently managing to fulfil these expectations. Or that they are actively campaigning for the conditions that would help them to do so.
To date there have been no major campaigns or public marches by men demanding shorter working hours, company crèches and flexible parental leave, let alone demanding equal pay for women and parenting skills as part of the national curriculum! Instead the areas where men have chosen to campaign are those of child support payments and court custody decisions. Wherever one's sympathies may lie with these issues, it is clear that the central beneficiaries of these campaigns are the men themselves rather than their children. The emphasis remains tilted towards father's rights, children's needs being a secondary and at times almost incidental concern. This reflects the old model of patriarchal fatherhood rather than one of collaborative and engaged parenting.
Nonetheless this old model of fatherhood has not only lost cultural legitimacy for many, it is increasingly being recognised as pathological and inadequate. The expectation for fathers to be more involved with childcare seems irreversible, with far reaching consequences for men and women alike. For the more we recognise the importance of our involvement with all aspects of our children's lives, the more we as men are going to have to make intimacy and relationships a priority, both with our children and with our partners. Sharing responsibility for childcare is not only a statement of commitment towards our children. It is also a recognition of the value of our partner, not only as a parent but as a human being whose needs are no less important than our own.
The foundation for a collaborative relationship as parents is a relationship of equals as partners, based on trust, love and mutual respect. Our partners need our support and encouragement, both in the home and in the workplace, before any children are born as well as after. And the truth is we need the same from them. For ideally our children need at least two parents who not only love them but also love each other.
However, while we continue to discourage boys from acknowledging vulnerability and valuing intimacy, most men are going to struggle with these demands even with the best intentions. In our culture we reinforce such emotional illiteracy by directing boys during adolescence towards physical and material achievement in the public sphere. So that social status and approval (whether peer based or adult based) and material wealth (whether legitimately gained or the proceeds of criminal acts) take precedence over relationships. Young men in our culture gratify and take risks with their bodies, but the task of adolescence is to explore the heart, to risk intimacy and develop empathy, to develop one's identity through the heat of relationship outside one's family. The ground of identity and meaning is found within our hearts, it is not gained through seeking approval, wealth and status.
| wisdom and vulnerability of parenthood rather than the rebellion and insecurity of adolescence |
If we began to perceive the task of relationship and parenthood as preceding that of personal career and public achievement, for men and women alike, our education systems and our organisation of employment would need to radically change. Part time work that allows shared parenting would become a priority, and one oriented towards younger rather than older people. Furthermore such work would need to be flexible enough to allow for the varied demands of parenting, including birth and infancy, school holidays, sickness and school hours. Alongside this our education system would need to reflect in its curriculum such a change of emphasis, particularly for boys.
This would likely bring about a radical change in boys' experience of adolescence. Internal realisation and self definition, honed through relationships and empathic connection, is what creates a solid ground of identity. For identity is not only about defining and refining one's own beliefs and values. To do this meaningfully one has to become more aware of one's own particular needs and desires, as well as those of others, and to develop the capability to achieve satisfaction through a mixture of creative self care and negotiation with others. And to tolerate disappointment and frustration without resorting to blame and punishment, neither to oneself nor others.
This contrasts very much with the current process of male adolescence, oriented as it is towards physical and material self gratification within a public identity grounded in either peer or adult approval. The resulting lack of genuine self definition will invariably leave one insecure and lacking in heart, with little empathy and a need to maintain an image of competence and strength. It is unsurprising that the world of paid work, dominated as it is at the most senior and influential levels by men, is so oriented towards status, personal profit, exploitation and environmental destruction. And so little concerned with children and intimate relationships.
This current model of male adolescence makes little sense either from a social or a psychological perspective. Being able to manage the responsibilities of a family, collaborating together as parents and learning how to mutually provide for our children whilst becoming appropriate authorities for them, would seem to be a far better preparation for purposeful achievement in the world at large. Having learnt the value of responsibility and authority, self sacrifice and collaboration, and knowing the inter-relationship and interdependency of family life, we are more likely to see the world around us from a similar perspective.
Then when our children no longer need such focus and attention, achievement in the public sphere can emerge as our priority. It seems more likely that coming from an experience of collaborative and responsible parenthood, we will see our task as one of public service that contributes towards the good of all, rather than the gaining of personal profit through the exploitation of others. Career and ambition become fed by the wisdom and vulnerability of parenthood rather than the rebellion and insecurity of a self centred adolescence. For having accepted and lived with the intimacy of our relationships with partners and children, we are in a better position to accept the greater intimacy of our relationship with all humanity and the planet itself.
Copyright © Achilles Heel Collective
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