Though less prevalent and under-discussed relative to "mom guilt," "dad guilt" is a thing, too, and I must confess I struggle with it often. "Mom guilt" seems a bigger deal because society's expectation of female parents is truly and literally impossible, captured in part in America Ferrara's epic rant in "Barbie." I have great empathy for this, and shudder to think if I was similarly expected to carry such a heavy burden.
At least for me, "dad guilt" is less about what is expected of me, which in some circles is stunningly little, and more about what I perceive to be the consequences of my performance or lack thereof. And it's good that I take seriously the impact I can have on our kids. Because, while their lives will be shaped by many people over the years, and ultimately is in the hands of the Almighty, their dad plays a key role in their healthy development and positive self-image.
Jada I have obviously known the longest, as the oldest. I believe that father-daughter relationships set the course for how a young woman perceives herself, thinks about what she wants in her life, and sets expectations for how she is to be treated in romantic relationships, in the home, and out in the world. Will I be a positive role model for her in all these ways? Will I be available when she needs me? Will I be able to read her when perhaps she cannot even read herself?
Aaron is my fellow Taiwanese boy, so though we are naturally very different I know I need to conduct myself in a way that he will look up to me, and where appropriate look to me for advice. As with me and my dad, we are growing up in different generations and cultures, and so there is this need to both lean in to what is timeless and unmoving, and also translate those things into markedly different contexts. Am I giving him enough affirmation? Am I giving him enough tough love? Does my sense of balancing these things square with his, and if it doesn't is that good or bad?
And then there is Asher. I do not know what it is like to grow up with ADHD, nor what it is like to be Black. I think I feel most deeply my shortcomings in being able to parent him. I literally cannot offer any direct guidance on things that are most defining for his identity, how he will be perceived in this world and how he will navigate this world. Sure, I can provide him with resources, put him in settings, and connect him to people that can be helpful as he figures out his own life journey. But I myself have very little to offer him but my love and empathy, which respectfully I understand is an important foundation for any little boy but which I know falls short of the preparation he requires to safely and productively grow into adulthood.
This "dad guilt" is, perhaps, the opposite of the typical "mom guilt." Rather than hearing "you're not doing enough," us dads get positive vibes like "you're so involved." But what pulls on my emotions is not how my performance looks to the outside world but whether it is enough for our kids. I appreciate the former, because who doesn't like to hear positive affirmation? But I feel the latter, because I know I fall short and I feel that deeply. And whether I'm being too hard on myself (honestly, sometimes I am, but most times I'm not), the fact of the matter is that I don't do enough, and to echo Ferrara's speech, I literally can't do enough.
The thing about parenting, and love, and life, is that "falling short" and "flowing over" are actually not opposites but very close to each other. It's one thing to beat oneself up over things we could've done better. It's another thing to be completely at peace that we've given all we can, and yet realize it still isn't enough. Then what? Wallow in having fallen short? Or watch the world flow over? Here's where I think societal expectations, or at least our own interaction with them, does come back into play. Because, from the world's eyes, the evidence is clear that things have fallen short. Yet, take another look and things are flowing over. How will I choose to see things?
No comments:
Post a Comment