Holidays bring family together. You get a chance to be around your loved ones and spend time with them away from the hustle and bustle of the rat race. This holiday season was a little different. Unlike most holiday seasons, many of my loved ones didn’t show up or couldn’t make it to the prescheduled events. But there was one constant. My moms and pops. I cannot remember a year that I’ve ever not been able to spend some time with them. As I get older, I’ve learned not to take that time for granted.

But spending time with them also made me very aware of spending time with my own children. As a father, I cherish every moment I can be around them. Alas, all of them weren’t able to come home for the holidays, and one of them doesn’t celebrate the holiday as we do. They are grown now, so their family, their choice. But the youngest one, my hard ankle daughter, was at every family function as usual.

When you are raising children, most people treat their boys different from their girls. They use a different approach, because they look at girls as being more fragile and delicate. I think there is definitely some merit to that, but I also realized that I raised my daughter, in her words, “like a Nigga”. I tend to give her the same lessons and tough love that I did my older sons. I always focused on raising my sons to be great husbands, strong fathers, and overall great human beings. And as feminine as my daughter is, I think I’ve raised her to be a great husband, strong father and great human being. LOL.

The girl is strong minded. She has an incredible amount of resolve and stubbornness (The force is strong in her). Her fire isn’t easily quenched. See, my father used to often debate me on any and everything, just to see where my mind was (he told me later in life). Our arguments were epic. Many on the outside couldn’t understand the dynamic. Most would look at our arguments as me, the son, being disrespectful, due to me holding my ground against my father. But my dad never took it like that. He knew my challenge was not personal, it was more like sparring, and he was exercising my critical thinking and my ability to stand ten toes down, even in the face of authority. My daughter and I tend to have these same encounters. My sons and I do as well, but my daughter is the pinnacle of fight back. She almost loves the sport of it. My sons will listen with an intent to draw some wisdom, mid argument we may come to an understanding. But, oh no not my daughter, she may not HEAR me for several days. But the good thing is she usually does HEAR me after a while.

From the outside, some may not understand our dynamic. In the same way they cringed at me talking to my father in a certain way. Our patriarchal society cringes even more at a daughter speaking to her father strongly. But as for me I love it. I love for all my children to be strong. I love that they can look at a situation and speak to the injustices, with no regard for the perceived authority that is attached to the status quo.

Hopefully as my children grow and have families of their own, they will continue this practice—allowing their kids to speak, think, and explore their own ideas. The freedom to question, to push back, to stand firm. These are seeds my father planted in me, and I’ve tried to plant them in my children. With any luck, they’ll continue to grow for generations to come.

I became a father as a teenager. I’ve made a ton of mistakes along the way—trial and error, mimicking what my parents did, and leaning on the only book I ever read on fatherhood—the Bible. As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that a “figure” is simply someone representative of another. God grants us the same freedoms my father granted me. Therefore, my dad was just representing his Father Figure. I hope I’ve been at least a decent Father Figure that represents my Dad to my kids. And my future hope is that all three of my children will be great Father Figures to their children.

Especially my Daughter… LOL