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This is what LOVE looks like - Black Fathers in their own words

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*This is a Commentary / Opinion piece*

A personal tribute to the strength and stories of Black fathers—told through the voices of those who live it every day. (Written by a daughter, sister, wife, and witness to Black fatherhood in its truest form.)

I’ve always known that Black fatherhood was beautiful, powerful, and present—because I’ve seen it with my own eyes.

As we prepared to honor fathers in this issue, I reached out to the men in my life whose presence and wisdom have shaped not only their own children but also the people around them. Some are community leaders, mentors, and friends whose voices carry weight not only in their homes but throughout our culture. Others are friends, mentors, and community voices I admire deeply.

I asked them a few questions—not just about parenting, but about legacy, identity, strength, and truth. I told them their opinions, foresight, sacrifice, and knowledge deserved to be amplified. I reminded them that while their work as fathers often goes unnoticed, this was their moment to be celebrated, uplifted, and seen.

Some didn’t usually speak up. Some aren’t used to being asked. But all of them showed up with honesty and depth. And what they shared became one of the most meaningful collections of words I’ve ever had the privilege to hold.

The myth of the absent Black father is just that—a myth. Research shows that Black dads are often more hands-on than society assumes. But beyond numbers, the real evidence is in the everyday moments: the early morning drop-offs, late-night talks, quiet sacrifices, and loud cheers from the sidelines. That’s where fatherhood lives.

This collection is a time capsule—capturing the voices of over five generations of fathers. Some are just beginning their journey. Others carry the honor of being great-great-grandfathers. But every testimony here holds the weight of a birthright: the calling to show up with purpose, to nurture, to lead. And each man accepted that call fully and presently.

What follows is not just a reflection on fatherhood. It’s a living, breathing testimony—a celebration of presence, sacrifice, and love passed down through generations.

“It’s About Showing Up” — Defining Fatherhood
Fatherhood is not just a title—it’s a daily decision. A choice to be consistent, intentional, and emotionally available. These men spoke about what it means to show up, not just physically, but in spirit, in presence, and in purpose.

“Fatherhood is effort,” said Kenneth Miller. “It’s waking up every day and choosing to be better than you were the day before. It’s knowing you won’t always get it right, but still showing up with intention. Realizing you’re not perfect, trying your hardest each day to be a better father. It means paying attention to the details—how your kids speak, how they carry themselves, what they’re not saying—and guiding them even when they don’t realize they need it.”

Jamaal Buchanan called it a role of transformation: “A teacher, a protector, a provider, a molder of life. I choose to show up because my children are a reflection of me.”

Kenard Karter shared how it challenged and shaped him: “My default is to lead with direction, but I’ve learned real fatherhood requires vulnerability and the willingness to grow.”

Peter Jericho defined fatherhood through presence and flexibility: “Being available, a model, and willing to adapt—whatever the circumstance—with love and discipline.”

Marcellus Hunter offered one of the most grounded truths: “It’s not just showing up—it’s engaging. Looking your children in the eye. Helping them grow into who they’re meant to be.”

And Russell White added a quiet but powerful definition: “Just keeping in touch every day with my children in one form or another. Texting or calling.”

“I Became the Father I Needed” — Lessons from Fathers Past
Behind every father is a father figure—a blueprint, a contrast, or a prayer. The men I spoke with shared what they learned (or wished they’d learned) from those who came before them.

David Seaton lost his father at seven. “That absence let me imagine what I would’ve wanted. Now I try to be that for my daughter.”

Justice Hunter saw his father’s good intentions in hindsight: “He wasn’t wrong all the time. Now I’ve got a third eye for what’s ahead. I learned from him, even when I didn’t understand it yet.”

David Olive found his blueprint in faith: “I serve a God who sees everything. My father taught me obedience, and I pass that on.”

His son, Darryl Olive, deepened the perspective: “There’s no guide for being a father other than the Bible. What separates a good father is how he handles mistakes—and how he continues showing love even when the world is hard and unforgiving.”

Dudley Pitter passed down lessons learned through action: “My father taught me honesty, financial wisdom, and how to work with my hands. He shaped me to be self-sufficient and dependable.”

He also shared a memory that still echoes in his spirit—a short poem from his father that shaped his view of perseverance:

“Standing at the foot of the hill, boy, gazing at the sky.
Oh, can you get up if you never try?”

“It propelled me,” he said. “And I carry a lot of nuggets like that from him.”

And Russell White reflected, “Just learning how to be patient. Listening. Through trials and tribulations. Thinking back, I was actually listening to all the individuals in my family and experience by the father figures.”

“In That Moment, I Knew They Saw Me” — Feeling Seen as a Father
To be seen as a father is not about applause—it’s about impact. These moments, often quiet and fleeting, stay etched in the hearts of men who give everything to their children.

Peter Jericho remembered his son’s preschool graduation: “He wouldn’t go on stage until he saw me. Then he introduced me—‘Hey, this is my dad.’ That was a moment.”

Kenard Karter recalled his daughter choosing to live with him in Chicago: “Her decision told me my voice mattered. She saw me as a consistent, fair, guiding presence.”

David Seaton’s moment came through sacrifice: “I was working seven days a week after an employee quit. My daughter told my wife, ‘Daddy is working hard.’ That made it all worth it.”

Marcellus Hunter, in a moment of deep loss, found strength: “At my wife’s funeral, I stood up for our family. I wanted to show my children that it’s okay to be strong—and okay to hurt.”

And for Russell White, the clearest affirmation came in growth: “Seeing my daughters mature and grow into healthy, well-adjusted human beings.”

“This Is What I Want Them to Remember” — Values That Endure
These fathers are not just raising children—they’re shaping future adults. With every decision, they’re planting values they hope will take root.

Kenneth Miller wants his children to “be solid and stand-up people.”

Justice Hunter said: “No matter what life throws at you—go forward, never backward. Last name is Hunter. Go get it.”

Jamaal Buchanan emphasized resilience: “No shortcuts. If you want it, work for it. Stay focused. Don’t quit.”

Dudley Pitter said, “Responsibility, loyalty, being a person of your word. Yes is yes. No is no.”

Darryl Olive shared the invisible strength of fatherhood: “Your kids don’t always see your pain, your exhaustion, your sacrifice. But that’s what makes you a father—you keep going anyway.”

David Olive reminded us, “Start the learning process early. The sooner, the better.”

Russell White hopes his children always “appreciate the little things.”

“We’ve Always Been Here” — Rewriting the Narrative
The world has long tried to define Black fatherhood through absence. These men defy that narrative with every early morning, every hug, every hard conversation.

“It’s sad society sees Black fathers as anomalies,” said Kenneth Miller. “Like we’re not supposed to be involved. But we are.”

Kenard Karter echoed the call for a new vision: “The world isn’t used to seeing us as emotionally aware, consistent. But we’re out here—redefining what strength looks like.”

Jamaal Buchanan said, “The idea that we’re not around is false. Every Black man I know is a present, engaged father. We’ve got to debunk that narrative.”

Peter Jericho reminded us of the stakes: “They’ve spent centuries trying to make us look weak, dangerous, irresponsible. I refuse to fall into that trap.”

Dudley Pitter added, “I was present. Every morning. Every night. That’s not rare—it’s just not shown enough.”

And Russell White made it plain: “The only thing I care about is the opinion of my children.”

“The Standard Is Ours to Set” — Fatherhood in This Moment
To be a Black father today is to raise children in a world of noise and pressure—and to guide them with clarity, love, and truth.

Jamaal Buchanan warned: “Our children are under attack—from music, from tech, from culture. We have to be conscious protectors.”

Marcellus Hunter said, “Being a Black father means doing the work and surprising people with how well we do it.”

Justice Hunter agreed: “We have to keep setting the standard. People will ask—how did he do that? That’s the goal.”

David Seaton framed it as legacy: “I’m building something for my daughter—a legacy of possibility, not regret.”

Russell White concluded, “Spiritually, being a father who happens to be Black is extremely rewarding. I appreciate the job I’ve done thus far in every waking moment.”

This Is the Legacy
This story isn’t just about fatherhood—it’s about Black men choosing to love boldly, lead honestly, and parent with heart in a world that often misunderstands or overlooks them.

These fathers aren’t invisible. They are everywhere—in car lines and bedtime prayers, on sidelines and at graduations, behind late-night homework help and early-morning work shifts. They are present. They are powerful. They are permanent.

Before we close, I want to say this plainly: every voice shared here matters. Every story, every answer, every bit of honesty—it all matters. Because Black fathers matter now more than ever.

Reading and hearing the wisdom these men have gathered—lessons they’re still living and learning in real time—is more than insightful. It’s a treasure. A privilege. A sacred archive of love, legacy, and growth.

They are protectors. Healers. Coaches. Disciplinarians. Comforters. Mentors. And always—fathers.

This is what Black fatherhood really looks like.
And this is something each one of them—and all of us—can be proud of.

With gratitude to the following contributors:
Kenard Karter, Kenneth Miller, Marcellus Hunter, Justice Hunter, David Seaton, Jamaal Buchanan, Peter Jericho, Dudley Pitter, David Olive, Darryl Olive, Russell White

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