The emotional void created by a father's absence in a boy's life didn't present itself to me until late 2006.
In my first year of graduate school, one of our assignments was to take an inanimate object of great meaning to us, and to speak to it in front of the rest of the class. Although to the ignorant the assignment seems asinine, it was profound as we began to realize, with person after person, the amount of memories and emotions attached to things like old teddy-bears, pictures, baseballs, and so forth.
One day, a classmate of mine, Cary, brought in a one-hundred dollar bill, and began communicating with it. As a class we learned about how the bill's monetary worth was completely irrelevant; its value was that it symbolized the support that Cary's father had for his son's dream of becoming an actor. And in fact Cary's grandfather bestowed the same gift to Cary's father, when it was clear that the younger man was not going to budge in his determination to do what he wanted. The hundred dollar bill said "I love and support you, son. You have my blessing".
As emotional as Cary was in telling the story, I was reduced to a complete wreck once the realization hit me that I never had the love and support of a father or father-figure, to guide me through my youth, to give me wisdom, to teach me how to be a man, to show me how to navigate in the world, to help me find my way as best he could.
I ran from class and broke down into sobs in the bathroom, asking myself why I never had that fatherly love and support--and why he never even tried to reach me in all these years. It made me think of a quarrel I had with my mother at fourteen, where I mumbled something under my breath and she snapped "Why don't you say what you have to say to my face, like a MAN?" It was a hurtful, ridiculous remark--who was around to teach me how to be one??
Don't get me wrong, I know no relationship is perfect--many men have had destructive relationships with abusive, dysfunctional fathers. There's no denying that. But when those relationships work...the son benefits immensely from it. And no woman can teach a man how to be a man. Interestingly, Dr. Robert Glover, whose book No More Mr. Nice Guy has made a huge impact on my thinking, asserts something that I agree with: young girls also need strong men present in their lives, so they learn what a real man acts like and thus learn to embrace, not fear or loathe, masculine energy, and form healthy relationships with the opposite sex.
And it's especially important for black men to have strong fathers, because only another black man can truly empathize with and help another black man cope with the nuances of living in a country as racist as the United States, in a world that continues to devalue blacks as sub-human.
Since The Void presented itself, I've been on a hunt for trust-worthy, reliable men to look up to...and I've mostly failed, with two exceptions that I won't mention here. In fact, one of my many frustrations with the acting profession is the ease with which people grow distant, especially in a city as busy as New York. I've been so ready for an acting mentor for so long, and that person has yet to appear; it's unfortunate since history is rife with stories of successful men who had the backing, support, and counsel of older men to guide them along.
I vow never to abandon my own children. Even if things between myself and their mother don't work out, there is no fucking way I'm leaving my children behind like that. They need me, and I need them. I will value myself enough to know that I have much to share with them, and they will have much to teach me. There is no excuse, ever, for ditching your children.Sons need their fathers.
End of story.
