Lift up Your Skirt and Find Your Balls

As African American men, we find ourselves in precarious and difficult positions daily in life that the average denizen will never experience. Namely due to social, economic and historical factors, we have a hard job of just maintaining respect and our life. The conundrum is that we are few in many, especially those of us deserving of the title of men.

As it stands, we are a dying breed although many self proclaim the title of being a real per say, man. I just think the aforementioned has a responsibility to his community and family as being one. That includes making to the best of his abilities, a stable living environment free from detrimental factors both in the home and neighborhood. This means being responsible enough to provide and take care of our children and our women. It also entails being able to sustain tolerance for scrutiny, criticism, and plane old meanness that will be directed towards breaking us down.

We should be able to critically make decision that look at our families and communities first, even if they may be to our disliking. We should not desire outcomes such as that which lead to the arrest of former Atlanta Falcon Asley Ambrose who is reported to have pushed his wife in the face and threw a glass vase at her after she responded in self-defense. According to police reports, when she tried to call 911, thge brother of the former falcon, Naim Shakir, 24, "tackled her and held her down while Ashley Ambrose kicked her in the side and hit her in the face, according to the report."


So I guess I state this as challenge to us men who claim to be real but are never there at PTA meetings for our kids, never changing diapers, not treating the women in your lives like queens, being faithful and respecting the relationships and commitments of others. More importantly, it means if you cannot do any of these things, then lift up your skirt and find your balls.

State of the African American Father

Once, I was asked what being a father means to me. The question was asked of me one night before I was to leave on the overnight business trip the same night that Indiana and L.A. were playing game three of the NBA playoffs. I had never really thought about it before – probably because I knew that “IT” (fatherhood) was something that must be done rather than just thought about. And there was always something to do: to PTA meetings, taking my son to practice, ironing clothes, cooking meal and listening. What does it man to be a father? I mean it has to be a bit more than introducing a sperm cell to a precious ovum. It has to be more than seeing one’s child once or twice a week or month. What does it mean, and what is the state of fatherhood in our community? This was the question and I thought hard.

I thought hard about the fact that I was a single parent; I had been married, but it did not work out a result of unforeseen circumstances. But, mulling the questions of parenthood, I found it difficult to try to conceptualize something that I live; something so paramount and significant that words and thoughts can’t adequately depict its essence. It seems when you become a father – which is no less true for mothers – that you effectively begin a phase of having no social life. For the single father, this is mostly by choice, for you come to realize and internalize that there is no one thing or event more valuable than your children. I came to see that time really does fly by, and my infant son has become a little man with only one month until his eight birthday. I love cherish every moment of fatherhood, and I love having a son. For me being a father is responsibility that is earned with a combination of hardwork and effort, dedication and most importantly, love. It is an endless season in which summer, fall, winter and spring become one and the years often form a conglomerate book of memories and photographs.

Anthony T. Stringfield is CEO of the Living Room Media Group. an Oakland, California transplant, he has been in Atlanta for roughly nine years. “For me,” he says slowly, “I’ve been with little Tone for about 10 and a half years. Being a single parent for all that time has had its trials and tribulations for sure, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. When he came into the world, it just completely slowed my roll.” He says that his son is like a brother to him and that their relationships has steadily grow over the years. “His mother didn’t ever get involved in his life. She calls about twice a year, on Thanksgiving and Christmas, but it has not turned into any real experience for him. She being 3,000 miles away in France did not allow for him to have that access, that immediate access to her.

“Being a father means a lot to me,” Stringfield continues. “I would expect it too mean a lot to a lotta brothers out there. I want him to learn the streets, but at the same time, I don’t want him to earn the streets. Fatherhood slowed my life totally down.” Stringfield admitted that if it has not been for becoming a father, he would have probably ended up ubiquitously wither “dead or in jail”. Parenthood granted him something else that he needed: stability. “I guess God moved inside of me,” he says.

“It was really pride at first, but as pride turned into something that I thoughts was more than I could chew. But in the process, I realized that if I just took small bites, it wasn’t that hard,” Strinfield says. “And now since I am recently remarried, I can see how valuable the dual parent situation is. Looking back on it all, I say being father is a blessing that I would not trade for anything in the world. I wouldn’t trade the frowns for the smiles. Most definitely its been real.”
“My baby is like all the money in the world for me,” says Clarence Harris, founder of the check First Mortgage of Cincinnati, Ohio. “My wife and I had problems, so the doctors had to actually merge my sperm with her egg. It took about for or five attempts. Harris smiles as he continues. “The day I found out, I was in a car accident,” he says. “I was sitting there and all mad and she comes driving around the corner smiling and says she was pregnant. I cheered up immediately.”

He admits that he was hyped and that he “read a “hupla” articles and books” but that was short lived. “I figured that instincts would start to kick in because in all actuality I didn’t want to read a lot about white babies, because all of the books were written by white men,” he says. “I just figured being a man would make my father instincts come out.”

“When I found out I was about to be a father, I zoned, it was like I was thinking about names, him being a boy, what instruments he would play, how he would laugh and every thing else,” he recalls. But like most men staring down fatherhood, his attitude changed. Harris admits, “After I knew my wife was pregnant, I became concerned about her eating habits and everything. My wife worked practically right up until she gave birth, and I didn’t like that, knowing how hard we had been wanting children.


“Now my baby is one month old, he says with pride. “The biggest thing about the delivery was that I had never prepared to see something come out like me, round head and all, it was like looking at the mirror. I got here in my hands and forgot all about my wife.” He says that fatherhood based on his experiences could be broken down into one are: protection. Harris feels his job description with respect to his little girl is to provide support and protection for her forever.

These faces of fathers are often neglected in the real world with respect to media and the overall image of African American men. Let’s not forget; as the descendents of slaves were frequently removed from family responsibilities for the sake of profit by rapacious slave masters, brokers and merchants. Many young men like myself have inherited this sordid legacy, and never really knew or ere raide in households with their biological male parental units. Being basically inaccessible and/or available, we have managed to define being a father in a different perspective.

I will not blame history alone for these occurrences. Self-determination would have manifested another result if many fathers were steadfast in their belief of the family. And for the record most African American men were determined to preserve their families for we as people have survived conditions no one else has confronted. Therefore, it is not unusual when men are overlooked, as Harris was when he was at the hospital. The doctors and nurse always seemed to speak directly to his wife. “I had to straighten them out a few times and explain that the baby’s father is here and got just as an important part in this baby’s life as the baby’s mother does,” he says.

Many have viewed or felt this invisibility either first hand or vicariously. In all truth, church of the world in which we reside, through various news speak sources, purports consistently that men such as those speaking within this article and others such as myself do not exist. Often they talk about us, “black fathers” as if we were invisible. As if we were invisible. As if speaking of African American men as being fathers is taboo or politically incorrect. But the record is otherwise. We have demonstrated that we do exist and that is not because we are individuals. I coach both Little League baseball and basketball and see fathers all over the place, actively involved, from all walks of life.

To say it is troubling that we are often overlooked is an understatement. In our own communities, it seems as if we can only see ourselves. And we see ourselves often,. We see each other at MARTA stations, parks, PTA meetings,school plays and birthday parties. We seem to bon on site, exchanging looks and facial expressions tat only our kind can know. Marvin Davis, a native of Memphis, Tennessee, is that father of tow boys ages eight and five years old. Martin says being a father “is definitely a responsibility that I take strongly.” The business executive continues, “what I mean is that I see that as of now, I ma here to raise two black boys to not doubt themselves for any reason, economics, skin color or nothing.”



Davis reinforces his perspective by saying he is “trying to build string minds that can work and function in a structure and system designed to defeat them.” With all of the may roles he must play, he's says that he can definitely tell you want fatherhood is not. “It is not just bringing your check home and saying ‘I am clothing and feeding my kids.” He says that fathers help children to know that no matter what, there is and will be one main person that they can go to “who ain’t got no other motivations but to help them be better.”


So what is being a father about? I can’t really say, but these men have given us some food for thought. Being a father is a commitment. It is a commitment to supporting a family and working hard in spirit and time to make certain nothing will manifest that brings harm to ones seeds and they may grow, they may never develop or survive without consistent and compassionate care. Fathers, we salute you, for we truly know that we need no reward for what we do, either hand what we experience through daily interaction with our children.