(ThyBlackMan.com) I was raised in a Caribbean American household with both parents present throughout my entire childhood; my mom, a West Indian immigrant and my dad, a New York born Southerner. I was exposed to cultural traditions from both sides of the spectrum which all build upon my beliefs as a woman today. One memory I have as a child growing up was the constant pressure to do good in school. My mom attended school in Louisiana on a scholarship and graduated at the top of her class.
It was here that she met my dad and began what would become a lifelong journey with him. My dad, born in New York City, raised in the projects of the South Bronx by a single mother, attended school with the assistance of my grandmother’s church. His dream was to become a doctor and to this day, he will tell you that he came so close to med school, he could slap himself. Needless to say, he never attended med school, but he did become a paramedic with the city for 15 years. This, he believes, was ‘his calling’ and ‘the only way he would get so close to the white coat without having to go back to school’ as he puts it.
As the years passed, I saw a change taking place in my parents that I couldn’t understand. Work became more and more stressful for my dad, as he dealt with the arrogant and self-centered emerging generation of young lieutenants and captains in the ranks of the uniformed services. My mom complained more and more about the complaints of my dad as the rent
rose each year and the price of everything went up. As a man who always demanded respect, my dad contemplated leaving his job many times. Because this was even an option considered by my father, my mom’s respect began to decline. After 15 years, the day came when my dad left city service unable to handle the distribution of power.
My mom then became the main bread winner in our household. With each month of his unemployment, the cordiality between the two declined and the respect began to quickly diminish. Oddly enough, my mom’s career was picking up rapidly. As she climbed the ranks, my dad’s minor jobs and achievements went unnoticed. It was like he shadowed my mom’s footsteps, and I, his daughter, saw his pride being bruised again and again.
A man without reputable work is as valuable to his family as a man not being around for his family at all. I used to think a job just paid the bills and provided food on the table. Being an adult in today’s society, I see now more than ever that employment defines you as a person. It defines all that you are. All that you’ve been. Some may think that in order to be considered successful, you need to be a lawyer, or teacher, or banker. Having love and health is no longer considered wealth.
For my family, initially, my dad was the successful one. The one who would go out and spend money on gifts for his “girls”, my mom and I, because it was payday. The one who would take his family on trips for weeks and come back with a souvenir for everyone, including the mailman. My dad was the one who everyone knew would move his family out of their two bedroom apartment into a huge home in New Jersey someday. Today my parents remain in the apartment that they’ve had since they moved in together after marriage.
The change in my parents’ relationship definitely came about after they realized that the man of the house was no longer “holding” the house down. My mom’s affectionate, playful side soon became cold and callous as the stress of bills and late notices took over. She often vented to me her disgust with the way things were blaming it all on my dad. The man, who was once the breadwinner and head of household, now became a resident it seemed in my mom’s domain. Bills began to pile up and threats from bill collectors became unbearable. At this point, there was a complete coldness between the two. Talks of divorce and separation ensued. What used to be a happy home was now turned upside down and turned inside out. However, the two never gave in.
One of the wedding vows is to have and to hold in sickness and in health for richer or poorer. As a people, we already deal with enough issues without abandoning our mates when things get tough. The value of a man is not in his pockets, but in his heart. His worth is not how much he can pay toward the bills but how much attention he’s willing to pay to your needs that money can’t buy. Not everything in life has to revolve around money. Marriages have become financially based, which is sad.
Women are actually warned about marrying a man with debt or bad credit. So many of our strong black men and women fall victim to certain circumstances which prevent them from being well off. Sometimes those circumstances are nothing more than us. In my eyes, my dad is a great man. Although he’s been bruised and shamed, I stand by his side as both a black woman and his daughter. I believe in everything he was, is and will grow to become. When we learn to accept the faults of men and look past their indiscretions, it is only then that we will find true love. . .
Staff Writer; Laila Haughton
(Laila Haughton, a student of Dr. Arthur Lewin of the Black and Latino Studies Department at Baruch College CUNY)