care deemed feminine and contributes to the durability of unequal gendered parenting arrangements.
In line with political narratives of responsible fatherhood, DADS also taught that fathers, as masculine role models, uniquely contribute to child development. Chapter 6 analyzes how this discourse of paternal essentialism resonated for fathers who found value in messages characterizing them as essential for children’s well-being as men, not economic providers. I show how the “essential father” discourse is a response to gender ideologies and race and class inequalities that intersect to shape cultural norms of good fathering that further marginalize poor men of color. Alas, there is little social scientific evidence supporting the “essential father” discourse as a rationale for fathers’ involvement. I show how the valorizing image of the essential father individualizes social problems attributed to father absence and culturally scapegoats “fatherlessness” for much more complicated structural inequities.
The concluding chapter discusses the social and policy implications of the book’s findings in light of decades-old debates about fathering and its connection to inequality. These implications go far beyond responsible fatherhood programs to the very heart of our national ideas about families, racism, sexism, poverty, and why parenting matters. Policies are counterproductive when they reinforce patriarchal ideologies that children are necessarily worse off without men as parents. There are dangers in the “essential father” discourse, a cultural narrative that ultimately blames marginalized men for the structural constraints they and their children face. But it is hard to challenge an ideology by now so deeply engrained in our political zeitgeist, despite empirical evidence to the contrary.
How might we teach fathers, and all caregivers for that matter, that they are essential without resorting to insidious messages about masculinity that derive their power from the implicit devaluation of mothers, women, and femininity? I provide an answer by outlining a blueprint for a fundamental shift in the political discourse about the importance of fathers, one that emphasizes the value of nurturance and how a father’s importance derives from the ability to be a loving parent who can meet children’s emotional, relational, and material needs. Essential Dads underscores how cultural, social, economic, and political factors shape that ability. Rather than teaching fathers that they are essential to families because they are men, it is essential that we address the unequal social conditions in which fathers like Christopher parent. This book tells the story of how DADS tried to do both.
Admittedly, I started this research expecting to be more critical of responsible fatherhood programs. But after spending hundreds of hours talking to fathers about why they came to DADS, the reasons they stayed, and what it meant for their lives and families, the only book I could honestly write is one that reveals the radically progressive potential of programs like DADS. Ultimately, I endorse these programs. I also make a case for why we must heed fathers’ stories so that parenting policies can be even better.
To that end, it is important to acknowledge that DADS was only one program within a much broader national landscape of fatherhood programs scattered throughout the country that have divergent messages, strategies, and goals. Even so, there was much to be learned from studying in-depth one program that reflected and grappled with the major matters at stake in responsible fatherhood policy, including: meanings of good fatherhood, money’s role in fathering, marriage, masculinity, and men’s value as parents.
Accordingly, each chapter that follows returns to the issues at the heart of Christopher’s story with which we began. What did it mean to him to be a “responsible” father? Is it enough that DADS allowed Christopher to prove himself as a parent, even if it did not fundamentally change his economic circumstances? Did DADS help him navigate the constant conflict he had with Chris Jr.’s mother, Monique? What did the program teach him about the unique value of fathers beyond what women caregivers like his grandmother could provide? How did this shape his commitment to compensate for his own father’s shortcomings through his relationship with his son?
The answers illuminate how U.S. responsible fatherhood policy unfolded in the lives of real men who stand to gain—and lose—the most from how we ultimately decide to regulate or facilitate fathering through policy. Ultimately, those answers also teach us how politically valuing, not just fatherhood, but all caregiving is vital for addressing race and class injustices, especially those that hinder the essential contributions Christopher and the millions of fathers like him strive to make.
2 Being There Beyond Breadwinning
Responsible fathering means taking responsibility for a child’s intellectual, emotional, and financial well-being. This requires being present in a child’s life, actively contributing to a child’s healthy development, sharing economic responsibilities, and cooperating with a child’s mother in addressing the full range of a child’s and family’s needs.
Obama White House Archives (2012: 2)
I used to feel like money made me a responsible father, . . . that being a good father is like cashing your kid out, making sure they got the best clothes or the best shoes. I’ve learned that being responsible is in the love you provide and the time you spend with your kids, the talking to, the reading. . . . Just be there for them mentally and physically. If you can’t afford something, you should still be there, listen to them. If they’re scared of the dark, you should be there for them, laying in their bed with them.
Cayden, age twenty-four, Black father of two, and DADS participant
The above two definitions of responsible fatherhood both emphasize the importance of fathers’ presence, contributions to children’s learning, and support for children’s emotional needs. How they differ is perhaps more significant. Whereas government definitions also emphasize economic providing, Cayden learned from DADS to think of paternal responsibility primarily as loving and caring for his children, even when he could not afford to provide a lot of money for them.
Cayden wanted to give his children more, both more money and more time, which had led him to DADS. He enrolled with the hopes of finishing his high school diploma and finding steady work. Having grown up in deep poverty, Cayden stopped school before his senior year to care for his newborn daughter, Alisha. Subsequently, he struggled to find and keep jobs, went to jail for selling drugs, and had another child, a son named Cayden Jr., with a new girlfriend. He had not seen Alisha in over two years and owed thousands of dollars in child support. But with no high school diploma and a criminal record that left an indelible mark on his employment prospects, he could barely support himself. This, however, was not the full extent of his parenting concerns. Although he no longer believed that money made him a good dad, he admitted a lingering doubt that he was providing sufficient time and love—the two components he now understood to be central to responsible fathering.
Cayden initially told me that he was a good father because he did everything he could for his son and kept up to date on his child support payments for his daughter. Yet, as our interview continued, he confided to me about his fears that he was not a very good father after all, because two years had passed since he had last seen Alisha:
It makes me feel sad sometimes wondering what she’s doing. . . . I just try to focus on the son I have and keep this going. I go to the courthouse and file paperwork, but I try not to let it bring me down because I can’t find her. The police basically say since I don’t have no custody that [her mom] can take her. I have dreams of my daughter being a sister to my son. I even moved to [another state] where her mother was, but I couldn’t make it financially. I couldn’t find work, so I couldn’t pay support. I couldn’t get food stamps, so I couldn’t eat. . . . If I could, if there was a way to be there with her, I would be. I want to be there for her as a father, the same way I’m there for [Cayden Jr.]. I’m not a deadbeat. It’s not like I had the baby with her and just left. She left me.
Cayden paused, shed a tear, and reached for his wallet. He showed me a picture of two-year-old Alisha, beautiful with
