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Fathers’ Day
Brett Webb-Mitchell
Twenty-four
years ago, my family status went from “married, no children,” to “married, with
one child.” My daughter’s birth in a hospital in London, England was a gift to
her mom and I. We celebrated her birth with enthusiasm, complete with flowers,
balloons, and Guinness Stout (it was England, after all). My daughter’s birth
was my inauguration into the lesser-celebrated holiday of “Fathers’ Day.” As best as I can figure it out,
husbands and fathers who were envious of Mothers’ Day created Fathers’ Day at
the turn of the last century. Call
it father’s envy.
I
remember holding my sweet daughter close to my body, her small arms and legs
moving slightly because she was wrapped tightly in large, warmed blankets. Deep inside me I knew that her life was
going to be nothing like my life, and I almost wanted to apologize to her then
and there. I wistfully told her to
be ready for the ride of her life. While straight white parents in a
middle-class suburb of Portland, Oregon, raised me, my daughter would have a
life that was radically different than mine. It all has to do with who I am: at
the time of her birth, I lived two lives: one life was as a husband, father,
Presbyterian pastor, doctoral student and rising scholar who was trying to live
out his parents dreams for his success. The other life was one in the closet as
a gay man who lived a life filled with apprehension and an overwhelming sense
of self-doubt.
Read more on://www.parentsociety.com/uncategorized/fathers-day/
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