African Fathers and Their British Sons: A Culture Clash
Being human. Being a person. Qualities all fathers possess but don’t always utilize. Now evidently everyone is human, but when I say human I mean it in a manner that is more qualitative. Being approachable. The capability to have an unrestricted and balanced exchange of ideas, but most crucially; implementing accountability.
I find that such tropes either don’t exist or are severely lacking when thinking about Black but specifically African fathers. As a second generation British-born Nigerian, it can be assumed that my relationship with my dad can be challenging. My father tends to approach parenting on a step by step basis. Do this, achieve this, then do that. Very black and white. No thought given to the grey areas of parenting, the moments that cannot follow a uniform process. Historically marked by definitions like provider and protector, our fathers are socialised into believing their duties outside of the home are more important than what is done inside the home. Their primary concerns are your education, career prospects and exerting their authority. That is how their love is often presented. Tenderness, playfulness and laughter are rarities in the dynamic of an African father and son.
So when poet and visual artist IGGY LDN granted me the opportunity to attend an advance screening of his latest project ‘Fatherhood’, the title alone immediately enthused me. The short film attempts to narrate the many complex feelings black sons have towards their fathers. Feelings often disregarded and relegated to the crevices of a young man’s soul.
Following the screening, I was left with a lot to ponder over. First and foremost that in order to improve the conditions of our relationship, I must see him as person — not just my Dad. I must acknowledge the trajectory of my Dad’s life before I was around. However, this is hard when there are many issues at hand that continue to drive massive and potentially irreparable wedges between us. Issues that mirror and echo the experiences of many other British-African boys like myself.
“So how do you fix this shipwreck history of Dad meets son, son becomes man”
A major root behind the contentious nature of these relationships is that there is no desire on their part to understand that we’ve been socialized in vastly different ways. We’re obviously descendants of the same ethnic group and culture, but it is unmindful to think that our outlooks will be totally parallel. British-African households are a petri dish of post-colonialism. Children reared from such families will naturally adopt postmodern thinking shaped via western education, social media, technology and most importantly a multicultural reality. A reality at odds with the “traditional African” mentality that sometimes can border on absurdity. Herein lies the problem: we second generation African sons find ourselves struggling with this dichotomy. We are technically British but the homes we live in are supposed to be representative of our native land, our real “home”. African fathers don’t take into consideration that our lives outside the home substantially inform our worldview. There is always this expectation for us to level up to African thinking but never the other way around. For the sake of healthy co-existence it needs to be understood that there will be inevitably a blending of these cultures. Simply put. It’s impossible to raise a wholly “African” child in the western countries you decide to transplant yourselves to.
“Excuse me while I peter pan on your dreams”
It is no surprise then, that we are not always viewed as individuals with agency. Typically more so as a mimetic representation of our parents. Successors to pursue their dreams and uphold their values. South African author and university lecturer Christopher E.W. Ouma claims “Traditionally, sons in Africa are born into a genealogical order: taking over the baton from their fathers, they are born in the name of the father”. Although these expectations ring true for most cultures, in an African context, this assertion is complicated by the fact that as Ouma posits “the new realities in their postcolonial worlds provide for possibility and the invention of a new discourse in the name of the son. Newfound sources of identity that seek to displace, even to delegitimise, the discourse of the father”.
London’s individualistic culture affords me the opportunity to be radical in a way that scandalises the cultural collectivism of many African nations. I don’t have to think as my elders do. Shared attitudes and beliefs have their place and can prove key to socioeconomic and political transformation. However, in regards to interpersonal sometimes you just have to agree to disagree. Instead of trying to forcibly indoctrinate beliefs that we can’t stand by. We shouldn’t be reprimanded for attempting to express what is true or morally sound to us. I can’t identify as being totally British or totally African but being raised somewhere as culturally diverse as London has allowed me to be privy to discourse resistant to normativity. As British-Africans we have a wider variety of social stimuli to weigh up and evaluate. Providing us with the legitimacy to not necessarily undermine but critique what we’re supposed to be emulating. In this case, systems and conventions that birthed repressive ideas about sonhood.
Respect. A word that agitates and causes me to disengage whenever I hear it used in an argument with my father. In my household it is used to justify lack of accountability and familial subjugation. This is a word that over time that has become distorted to me. It’s often conveniently coupled with the biblical reference “Honour your mother and father”. I don’t disagree with this sentiment and absolutely understand that I am supposed to honour my parents. However it seems somewhere along the way, African parents have corrupted how it is employed and most importantly how it is earned. Furthermore, religious systems shouldn’t be commissioned in such an ignoble fashion to encourage your irrationality. African parents can never be wrong. The child is always to blame and any resistance to this conclusion is mark of ‘insubordination’. Eternally made to sustain this warped sense of reality where the actions of our parents are at all times completely reasonable.
“Let your energies form into synergies so that they become my own energy”
I recall a time when retelling numerous anecdotes about my parents to an ex of mine. Immediately she made the connection to how these circumstances have played a part in the development of some unfavourable personality traits of mine. Including a tendency to be highly defensive, overreact and be on edge when placed in particular environments. I was conscious of these predispositions but it was not until that conversation that I realised that these behaviours stemmed from the belligerent nature of my relationship with my dad. It is during our childhood and adolescence where our premier social interactions take place with the hosts of these interactions being our families. These pivotal years which include the positive/negative reinforcement of particular feelings and actions heavily inform our temperament and how we later see ourselves and relate to others. It can inspire resentment towards our fathers but also significantly damage a child’s mental psyche as they’re being routinely denied of a voice. Thus having our feelings processed in ways that are neither productive nor recuperative. Bell Hooks once wrote “Our parents thought that patriarchal authority was always right and that children really held the same status as slaves whose primary task was to obey”. Many times in jest my siblings and I have likened the dynamic we have with our parents to that of neo-slavery or a business relationship. Under this dynamic, nothing is up for discussion. I’m expected to follow their every order and my mind-set must reflect theirs because according to them why would I ever need to consider another perspective?
What men like my Dad don’t see is that by raising their children in such an unyielding way is that you’re missing out on opportunities to have real frank discussions with them. Where children can ably express themselves with no judgement, breeding teachable moments between father and child. Moments where you realise as a father that you made a mistake or handled a situation incorrectly or unfairly. A commitment to being honest with yourself and overlooking your ego. I’m not suggesting a thorough destabilisation of the hierarchy, this should always be maintained and valued. However, as your son grows into adulthood, there should start to be more of blurred line between father and comrade. Otherwise you risk an insincere bond with your son where they are closed off and they become as unapproachable as you were during their formative years. You reap what you sow. You can’t suppress someone for so long, and then be perplexed when they don’t grant you the same openness that was lacking when they were growing up.
Yet, in the midst of harnessing bitterness towards our fathers, it’s easy to forget that they were young once. There are reasons why they are the way they are. It doesn’t absolve them of their actions nor is it easy to gloss over but I’ve understood we must exercise a degree of empathy.
My dad was born Nigeria just a few years before independence was gained from Britain, undoubtedly a turbulent period in the country’s history. Even following emancipation, Britain’s rule and dominance was still ubiquitous and played a large role in the discord between the Eastern and Western regions that would eventually incite the Biafran War of the late 60s. At such a stormy time, I can imagine creating a world where emotional bonding could occur with his sons wasn’t on my grandfather’s agenda. His focus was on ensuring his wife and children were safe, educated and nourished. Combining these arduous dynamics and the inflexible nature of masculinity in Nigeria, this would be the template of parenting that my Dad would follow and adopt. He would later migrate to London in the 80s, a decade when instances of racism and discrimination were more overt in comparison to the insidious biases of today. Add to the pot a series of undesirable jobs just support my family which would have scratched his self-esteem. These pent-up frustrations and feelings of inadequacy would then manifest into how he would oversee his household. The only site he could freely govern. Unfortunately by replicating the nature of his father’s parenting, he was failing to grasp how he was negatively impacting familial bonds. His focus was on survival and being stable. Like many other of his generation he didn’t have the luxury we have as millennials to spend time being introspective.
“You could have taught me things, you could have told me things, I wish you told me things”
As a young adult, I see that life can be very taxing and in some cases; tragic. It is now much easier to fathom that there would have been a plethora of personal and professional struggles my Dad met. Struggles he’s possibly not worked through internally. It is safe to say I don’t really know my Dad and this has proven to be a considerable hindrance to facilitating growth in our relationship. If more candid conversations took place, the end result would be a mutual understanding of eachother. One that is more holistic and recognises our differences. Lack of fruitful communication engineers tension, dysfunction and ignorance on both our parts.
“Mister Mister, You seem to have neglected that we are born perfected in more ways than projected”
It’s pessimistic but I’ve long accepted that my Dad is who he is and it’s unlikely there will be any significant improvement in our relationship. In spite of this I remain enthusiastic about how my generation will re-write the script for black parenting. We have the benefit of being cognizant of the damage that has been done to us. The expansive dialogue being had around mental health and masculinity is proof that the one-dimensional ways of our parents will die out with our generation. Knowingly and unknowingly we have reproduced traits we didn’t appreciate in our fathers but we know that these gradually need to be unlearned. We have the tools and ability to break the cycle and raise children in a way that’s less harmful and more restorative.
No longer will sensitivity and intimacy be relegated as ‘feminine’ traits. Men no longer pardoned from being stoic and emotionally passive. Black men are racialized differently to black women, we are almost instantaneously seen as men from a young age. It is vital that a black father advises and prepare you for the world that awaits your innocent black frame. Society will try rear its ugly head, imposing the idea of patriarchal masculinity as the paragon of manhood. You need a black man who has undergone his own evolution to instill alternative and broader approaches to masculinity and self-definition. Taking the time to genuinely get to know you, continually growing as you grow. Cultivating a fully functional and emotionally healthy person. To me, this is the true essence and nature of fatherhood.
