undeaddad

explorations of mindful fatherhood


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Quarter Naked

broncos-cheerleaders(2)My son was forced to suffer through several hours of football this past Sunday, as we watched the conference championships. He’s a reluctant football fan, and gets quite squirrelly as the game persists. His mind wanders and he begins asking random questions. Midway through the second quarter he asked,

“Why are the cheerleaders a quarter naked?”

Good question, I thought, but chickened out and punted it to my wife. She responded with something to the effect of, “People think it’s sexy.”

This is the tricky thing with 2nd graders: they’re inquisitive about all sorts of stuff, and the older they get, the more they begin noticing adult things in the world around them. In the case of my 2nd grader’s questions, the answers are sometimes so complex that I’m flooded with a multitude of ways to answer. To respond to his question about “quarter naked” cheerleaders, do I talk about the ways in which women were historically disallowed from playing sports and relegated to cheering on the sidelines? Do I talk about the long history of high school culture in the US, in which the most popular and therefore most attractive girls are chosen as cheerleaders? Do I tell him about how grown men are so similar to high school boys that we continue the tradition of cheerleading in our major sports institutions? Do I mention that one of the few sports his dad enjoys watching is famous for its misogyny?

Thank god for my wife.  “People think it’s sexy” was probably the most pithy answer.

The whole “sexy” thing has been an interesting term to navigate while parenting. It’s a word he knows because it’s bandied about in every day life so readily. One of the ways he’s exposed to “sexy” things is when people kiss in movies or books. It’s been interesting reading the Harry Potter series to him, because as the characters get older, they appropriately deal with more adolescent topics, like flirtation, jealousy, and kissing. It’s been interesting noticing how my son’s reactions (and mine) have evolved over time. At first, reading about or seeing kisses in the movies was simply met with silent confusion and a comical look. At some point, the awkward silence was broken with his exclamation of “Awkward!”  We’re a family of comics, so the break in tension with this comic zinger was often hilarious and welcomed.

And then, something switched to make him say, “Inappropriate!”  My wife and I discerned that it must have had to do with the fact that Harry and Cho Chang get all kissy-faced in school. As a 2nd grader, my son was aware that there’s appropriate and inappropriate school behavior, and kissing obviously wasn’t something (2nd grade) students were supposed to do in school! We weren’t keen on that one, since we didn’t want him thinking it was necessarily “inappropriate” for teenagers to kiss. Thankfully, the reaction evolved to the less rule-based response: “Ooh la la!” I believe that one came from my wife, during Harry Potter’s run-in with the lovely French witches of Beauxbatons Academy. So, that’s now the comic relief when something “sexy” is going on. If someone kisses in a book or movie, if someone’s wearing a slinky dress, if teenagers go out on a date, one of us proclaims “ooh la la” and move along.

I’m good with “ooh la la’s” for now. It’s baby steps for me, until we reach middle school. Then, quarter naked cheerleaders will be the least of my worries, I’m sure.


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Father’s Ode to Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

ryan_lewis_macklemoreBecoming a father has changed my perspective on the world, for better and for worse. Sometimes a reminder of my youth is exactly what I need.

When I was young, I was self-centered.  I cared about how things affected me right now.  Things like politics, corporations, and the environment all took center stage because they affected my situation in the here and now.  Sure, I had vague notions of my future or the future of society, but I couldn’t quite see past my little bubble. After having my son, the impact of these massive forces shifted.  Now I recognize the impact politics, corporations, and the environment will have on my son.  Not only now, but in his future.

The problem is this: in spite of an increased motivation to care about things, my energy to do so has waned to near non-existence.

In my twenties I cared deeply about things.  I’d sit at tables collecting signatures for human rights campaigns.  I’d march in rallies or gay pride parades.   I’d do things to express my beliefs.  Perhaps there was a cynical side of me that believed these actions really had no impact.  Who cared about a letter?  Who cared about a march, or a demonstration, or a parade, then the forces out there were too big to do anything about.  But I did these things anyways, because it was what I could do.

Then I started working.  My time was taken up by my job, by paying the bills, by getting through week to week.  I didn’t have time to do all the things that had previously felt so important, things that had carried so much weight at one point in my life.  Plus, other, younger people were out there doing them, and wasn’t that good enough?

Then we had our son, and I seemed to have even less time and energy to get out there, to put my voice on the line.  But also, that cynical side crept up again, thinking that it really didn’t matter if I wasn’t out there.  Nothing changes anyways.  My political activity boiled down to voting, because it was the one thing I felt I couldn’t ignore.  I became more interested in what was on TV, who was winning SYTYCD, what was inside that next basket on Chopped.  My sphere of interest shifted from NPR to the TV Guide Channel.  And with that shift came the hazy stupor of media fog.  My ideals didn’t shift, per se, but I didn’t do much about them.  My political activity boiled down to a few dollars donated here and there to various causes.  I wonder if other fathers, fresh out of the fog of their children’s early years, find themselves in the same spot.

The problem was that I didn’t find anything inspiring.  Media had effectively deadened me.  Nothing seemed to get me vocal.  I’d watch some Daily Show, but it only served to depress me.  I’d turn on NPR, but felt too insignificant to do anything.  This might seem stupid, but I found a new burst of energy and motivation in what seems like a very unlikely place: in the music videos of a white hip-hop artist from Seattle.

It started with Macklemore & Ryan Lewis’s track Thrift Shop, which set them on the national stage.  The track was infectious, and its anti-couture agenda really spoke to me.  I was the kid in his 20’s who only shopped at thrift shops, and thought it was so much cooler than buying off the rack.  But the song that really made me stop and think was the the duo’s Same Love video, a track dedicated to embracing homosexuality and a rally-cry for gay marriage rights.  One of my friends mentioned hearing it, well before it hit the radio, confessing that the track brought tears to his eyes.  I was incredibly touched by the story of the song and by the images of the beautifully crafted video.  As time passed and I gave more thought to the song, my admiration for these artists grew.  Here were a couple of hip hop artists supporting people who are typically vilified by their own music genre.  They were also artists who were relatively new to the national stage, and yet were investing time and talent into producing a video and gaining play-time for a politically motivated song.  In spite of the backlash it might provoke, and the topic’s impact on their budding stardom, these artists chose to promote the song.

I started searching for more tracks, and found pieces that were equally moving, such as Wings, Macklemore’s childhood memories of his desire for a pair of Air Jordans and his realization that kids he knew got murdered for theirs.  There’s also Ryan Lewis’s Fake Empire, a short film that lambastes corporate silencing of individual voices.  As I did more searching, I was increasingly impressed by the depth of these men’s voices and their strong convictions, even when these convictions ran counter to what a lot of popularized hip hop glorifies: a hyper-hetero, hyper-masculine celebration of money and brands.

But it’s really hard to swallow artists who are super self-righteous in their approach.  Artists who take themselves so seriously that they become caricatures of themselves.  That’s another reason why I love this duo.  These guys are goddamn hilarious.  If you’ve ever seen And We Dance, you know what I mean.  It’s rare to see any male artist, let alone a hip hop artist, dress in gold lame and dance around in a blonde 80s hair-band wig.  Macklemore even plays the asshole neighbor that beats on the door.  Hysterical.  Then there’s the Can’t Hold Us video, in which Macklemore plays the frenetic hairdresser in a long blonde wig (again), cutting the hair of the featured artist on the beach.  Every time I see something by this duo, I’m blown away by the message, the humor, and the artistry.

And who would have thought, a nearly-middle-aged, suburban White dad would find inspiration from a pair of hip hop artists.  But yes, it has happened.  Seeing their messages embodied in their work has caused me to reflect on my own beliefs.  It’s made me realize that I cannot sit idly by any longer.  Instead, I have to get up and make my voice heard, even if it takes time and energy.  Isn’t that what art is supposed to do?

And yet why do I connect this ode to my fatherhood?  Because dads like me need wake up calls every once in a while.  I used to have the energy and the motivation to want to inspire change.  And yet at this time in my life, with a so much on the line, with a son who looks up to me and relies on me as a positive model of manhood, I have a tendency to sit on my ass.  I have a tendency to really on a younger generation of individuals to speak up and inspire change.  But I can’t do it any longer.  I have to keep up the motivation and the will to fight, because if I don’t, what type of a future will I leave for my son?  I’m thankful for the inspiration these artists have enlivened in me, and hope to keep the motivation alive and make my own voice heard.