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Father: The Invisible Man

  • CGreven
  • Jun 15
  • 6 min read

Recently, someone told me that Father’s Day was the most overlooked holiday in America. That statement got me thinking… is it? Are fathers really overlooked, either on their holiday or in general?


Full disclosure: I have never been a father. I don’t see the content that is sent to male-identifying individuals with children, and I don’t clock a lot of conversations or jokes about dads.


I have, however, worked with and spoken with many, as clients, friends, and, of course, family. Over time, I’ve come to recognize patterns in these individuals: stressors, struggles, concerns, frustrations, and wishes (for themselves and their children).


Although there is overlap with mothers (blog article to come- don’t worry, Mamas), what I have seen with dads are feelings of: 


  • Disempowerment: dads don’t always feel their voices matter in the household. 

  • Confusion: dads are often unsure of the best way to help both their partners and their children.

  • Overwhelm: dads feel especially overwhelmed by their kids' emotional dysregulation.

  • Loneliness: dads are four to five times more likely to experience social dysfunction after having children than mothers.


So how and why are Dads fading into the background? 


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Dads- and men in general- are largely stuck between two competing voices, both of which have their allure and their drawbacks.


On the one hand, we have “the manosphere”. According to these voices,  Dads are exalted because they are the masters of their domain, providers with progeny, and have fulfilled their evolutionary role to a “t". 


(Well, that sounds nice, doesn't it?)


However, the manosphere places emphasis on subjugating their spouses, aggression as a means to assert power, and a tenacious work ethic (aka “hustle culture”) in order to prove your value in this world.


(Admittedly, less nice.) 


However, the manosphere still has an allure. Besides telling men they're awesome, the primary message aligns with the view of fatherhood that is deeply ingrained in our subconscious. 


From a historical/cultural lens, we know that a lot of the people becoming fathers in the last twenty years experienced hazing or harassment growing up related to not being “masculine” enough: they were punished by adults or peers for crying, they were not given a strong emotional vocabulary, and they were discouraged from expressing anything besides anger. Their “worth” and identity were determined by their achievements, and they received the message that, not only was it their job to provide for their household at all costs, but that was the only safe way to show they cared.


Because that 1950s blueprint still lives rent-free in all of our minds, the manosphere resonates with the construct almost like a comfort zone, despite the dissonance many modern men may feel about the outright misogyny.


That dissonance comes directly from the voice competing with the manosphere: pop-feminism. 


At its core, Feminism is the belief in equality regardless of gender. Most real people in modern America are feminists to some degree (up to 80%!): even people who hate the word actually believe that gender-based discrimination is bogus. As such, many modern fathers chafe at the manosphere’s broad messaging.


However, feminism also has a dark side. Often, female-empowered messaging morphs into vitriolic and contemptuous messages about our male-aligned counterparts, as if putting them down raises us up.


This can look like content that tells fathers they aren’t doing a good enough job, that they are lazy, that they are making their spouses do too much, and that accuses them of manosphere-level crimes for what would otherwise be considered a standard infringement (aka an honest mistake).


So men get stuck: do they have to be the aggressive, lone wolf provider of the house, or do they help where they can, then be told repeatedly that it isn’t good enough?


A Modern Man


I will openly admit that before getting married, I often took a tone of cavalier condescension and half-joking judgment about men. I believed men just “didn’t get it”, and, because they had been underestimating women for centuries, it was my job to set them straight.


Not far into my marriage, I had to rethink that approach because, as it turns out, it was hurtful to the person I cared about most. What I saw as “playful”, he saw as hurtful, and, as he pointed out, when someone made jokes about women being in the kitchen or being incompetent, I wasn’t laughing. Those conversations absolutely helped me grow into someone who saw men struggling just as hard as women to feel worthy.


It opened my eyes to how often men are called incompetent.


While there are arguments to be made about attacking the patriarchy, I want to be clear that this article isn’t about “the patriarchy”; it is about fathers. Individual patriarchs. Dudes who struggle, frankly, because of the patriarchy.


Let’s be real here. Modern fathers:


  • Change more diapers than their fathers.

  • Spend more time with their children than their fathers.

  • Do more chores than their fathers.

  • Consider “father” to be a more important part of their identity than their fathers.


Yet, despite all that, they are inevitably portrayed as being aloof, regressive, or clueless about parenting.


Mister Cellophane

Not only are modern fathers caught in the middle of this lose-lose battle, but they are often emotionally backburnered, ultimately fading into the background of their household. 


We have created a perfect storm for resentments and misunderstandings between parents. Fathers are being called to step up and be more engaged in parenting, and they are largely heeding that call, while mothers are being called to share their needs with their partners (both good things). Fathers are acutely aware that they are doing more than previous generations and may feel proud of stepping up, but if they miss the mark and their partner tells them as much, what follows is discouragement and frustration.


Only exacerbating the problem, fathers also withdraw from their social circles: sometimes to prevent an argument, sometimes as a show of solidarity with their spouse, sometimes because they are too fried from the pressure of being “the provider”, and often because they just want to be present and help, even when they do not know how.


Then, the Coup D’Etat: the attention and care from their spouse gets hijacked. The primary caregiver is wired to give the most attention to their children. It is our evolutionary imperative; there is nothing wrong with that. However, energy is kind of like pie: when you’ve given enough away, you don’t have much (if any) left. If mothers are the primary caregivers (and most of the time they are), guess who most frequently doesn’t get pie?


You guessed it: fathers.


*Importantly, “pie” is not a euphemism for sex in this metaphor. It is emotional energy and support, which we all need.


So, let’s do a quick recap:

  • Fathers lose social spaces and support

  • They become trapped in their work to provide for their family

  • They get caught between being better than the fathers before them, while not living up to modern ideals 

  • Their partners are giving significantly more brain power and energy to their children, so any emotional support they were getting is now cut dramatically

  • They have no time or space to be themselves


Fathers are becoming adrift, all while projecting that “stoic strength” that society expects from them.


Wow, dude. Being a dad is hard.


Father Figures

One of the pitfalls that most humans fall into is that we compare battle wounds. When we are in enough pain, we begin to minimize what others are feeling because there is no way it is as bad as ours.


We have finally started opening up more conversations about motherhood and what makes it so complex, painful, and beautiful- and I am glad to see and be part of those conversations. What we miss, though, is how fatherhood has its own unique challenges and pain points. Dads deserve compassion when they are hurting, rest when they are tired, and validation when they’ve given effort to the best of their abilities.


So, to the fathers out there who are imperfect but trying, who deeply love their children, who feel the weight of keeping your family afloat, who want to make your partners happy without always knowing how, who are committed to being better than generations before you, I want you to know that I see you.


I see the burden you carry, being caught between competing messages of who you are “supposed” to be. I see you needing to be held after a hard day at work, and either feeling left behind or too afraid or unable to ask your partner for support because you see how burnt out they are from handling another tantrum. I see you compromising your need for community to keep the peace.


You do not have to erase yourself to be a good provider.


None of us are effective caregivers when we are pouring from an empty cup, and you cannot parent from a place of total isolation. Reconnect with that friend you haven’t spoken to in months. Voice your confusion or needs for support with your partner instead of withdrawing. You are allowed to have needs, too.


For the rest of us: If you love a father who is trying, remember that validation is fuel. We don't have to minimize our own struggles as mothers or partners to notice theirs. 


This Father’s Day, let’s give them more than a tie or a grill accessory. Let's give them a slice of the pie: acknowledgment, compassion, and the reassurance that they are seen.



 
 
 

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