My son, N, is so full of love that he cannot contain it. He is constantly giving kisses and monster hugs (much to the chagrin of his baby brother). His displays of affection make me smile, but they also make me want to protect him from those who would take advantage of his loving nature and crush his gentle heart. I was not like N as a kid. There was a point in my life when I would have never considered expressing affection for another black man, or any man for that matter. I was too cold, too hard. It was difficult for me to even love myself let alone anyone else.
In retrospect, I understand why it was so hard for me to express love. I cannot remember ever hearing a man say “I love you.” I can only remember them talking badly about each other and telling me to watch my back. Rather than love, they taught me fear.
My mother tried her best to put love in my heart, but her efforts were not enough to save me. Without a strong, male figure in the home, I had no one to emulate, no one to show me how to love. I’m not saying that women cannot be role models for young boys because that’s not true. What I am saying is sometimes a boy needs a man to talk to.
As I grew into adolescence, I started hanging with some of the older neighborhood boys, fighting, drinking, and getting into all sorts of mischief. If someone we didn’t know stared at us for too long or (God forbid) touched us in any way, we felt compelled to attack. It sounds pretty silly now, but back then it seemed like the right thing to do. I really don’t know why I felt threatened by these young men. Maybe I saw things in them that I hated about myself, maybe I was venting my frustrations about my father’s not being around, or perhaps I was simply insecure. Whatever it was, it kept me on the defensive.
Sometimes I would see men embracing, shaking hands, or otherwise displaying emotion towards each other. Of course, I would always label these men as sissies or punks, but in reality, they were neither. Unlike me, they were secure in their masculinity and could express themselves without foul language or violence. They felt safe in the presence of other men because they knew how to love.
Fortunately, a conversation with my father turned my life around. We hadn’t spoken in years, but something made me pick up the phone and call him. The conversation was heavy with silence. We had so much to say, but didn’t know how to say it. Then out of nowhere, he said, “I love you.” I was stunned. This was the first time that I had ever heard him utter those words to anyone. Hearing him say them to me was almost surreal. I almost cried. I felt confused, happy and relieved all at once. For years, I had been hating my father for not being around when I needed him, but those three words eased the tension of several years. It was as if I had been in the dark for several years and someone had finally turned on the lights. On that day, I told a man “I love you” for the first time and it felt good.
Though it took several years, I can finally tell another man that I love him, and mean it. But more importantly, I can believe it when I say it to myself.
So dads, hug your sons, give them a kiss, and let them know that you love them. You will all be better men because of it.
Stay strong,
Mocha Dad
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Mocha Dad,
You speak the truth. I pray that more people see this blog and comment on it. I grew up with my Dad in the house, and still I seldom heard those three word from him. You and I grew up not far from each other. You are right about the tough guy menatality. It was not normal for another male to shaow anything other than agression towards another male. That has got to change. I tell my son (and my daughters) that I love them many times each day. Keep up the good work and spread the word that men are allowed to tell their sons that they love them.
Erroll
You know as I have travelled the world I see men express affection differently from holding hands, to kisses on the cheek. We in American have a more European way of connecting with other males, but in some African countries it is totally different. It is nothing to see two men holding hands. Of course here you would be thought of as gay. Anyway it affects how we as men interact with our sons and what we teach them about male interaction. Good post.
I have to co-sign on this. I didn’t hear those words from my Dad until after he was recovering from his triple bypass surgery.
I didn’t even know how to react. However, I will say this, If I had to choose between hearing the words and actually being in a loving positive environment. I’ll choose the latter every time.
I didn’t hear the words growing up, but I KNEW what it was to be loved. I seen other families that threw the words around a lot, but never demonstrated it to each other.
When I was a kid, I thought my Dad traveled too much as a preacher, building homes and churches (yes, that was selfish), and all of those things a foolish teenager allows herself/himself to believe. My Dad was one of those “old-timers”, reluctant to show their feelings, believing if you ate, you should already know you’re loved.
But I would sit on the sofa next to him anyway and neither of us would speak, sitting in companiable silence. He would ask “Now, what do *you* want?” He tried to sound stern, but I could always see the hint of a smile on his face. After I felt satisfied with his huge “hug”, I would get up and leave. I saw this big smile escaping his face when I left.
That was good enough for both of us until he became ill. I broke my “code” with my Dad 12 years ago. I would never end a phone call without saying a heartfelt “I love you.” Sometimes I could even get him to do likewise. I definitely believe in saying that 3 letter word, even to my son and he expects a reply when he tells me the same.
I am thankful that I was there when he passed away, holding his head in my hand and telling him how much I loved him. You can never get those moments with the ones you love back again. You really do have to love them while they are still here. The last phone conversation I had with my Dad, he asked “Was there ever a time you asked for something you needed and you didn’t get it?” I thought for a moment and realized the answer. “No.” We talked for almost 2 hours. When the conversation ended, I said, “Daddy, I love you very much.” He replied, “I love you too Shug.” I never spoke to him again.
I am grateful one of us broke the “code of silence” before it was too late.
[...] The major reason: He didn’t show love. See my earlier post “Learning to Love.” [...]
[...] Pick: Mocha Dad presents Mocha Dad » Learning to Love posted at Mocha Dad. This is a very powerful post and important for every dad to read. [...]
Wow, that was a great post, Mocha Dad. Very powerful. I was fortunate to have had a great relationship with my father. He died when I was 18, and I miss him greatly as I try to develop my relationships with my boys. I’ll always try to do it like he did.
Glad to hear you are connecting. I hope it continues, and is also a potential positive relationship for you son as well.
That is a powerful post. Will be calling my Dad today.
Sounds like you have a great son–and he has a great Dad.
Very touching article. This is so true even if you have daughters, like myself, and makes me want to run give them a hug. My dad always made it a point to tell me that he loves me even after my parents got divorced and I can only imagine how you needed your father. Glad to hear that you are connecting and I hope to hear more.
…oh yea…added you to my reader!