Every year, we celebrate Father’s Day, and as usual, social media is filled with tributes to great dads—men who work hard, provide for their families, and carry the weight of responsibility without complaint. The numerous posts are beautiful and necessary because fatherhood has been undervalued for too long.
But as I sit to write this, I want us to pause and look deeper—not just at what fathers do, but at who they are. The man behind the father.
What makes a good father in today’s world? Is it the same as it was thirty or forty years ago? And are we—children, wives, society—really seeing these men for all they are? Or are we still defining them by outdated roles: strong, silent providers with no room for struggle, vulnerability, or fear?
Let’s be honest. Fathers, especially African fathers, have been painted in one colour for so long: the man who wakes early, hustles for school fees, builds the house, keeps the family name, and rarely shows his softer side. Many of us grew up with distant, emotionally unavailable fathers who loved us in ways they never said—their feelings buried under discipline, silence, provision, and admonition.
But we didn’t really know them. We didn’t know their dreams, what they truly wanted, or what they might have become if the cloak of responsibility they carried was removed. We didn’t see them beyond their roles. And they carried their fear and frustration like invisible luggage because society never gave them permission to be human.
But today’s world is different.
A good father today is not just the man who pays the bills or wears the badge of “head of the family.” His role has expanded because the needs of his family—especially his children—have expanded.
Our sons and daughters don’t only need food, school fees, or new shoes. They need presence. They need a father who is emotionally available. They need conversations. They need hugs. They need to see their father cry if necessary—to know it’s okay to feel. They need a father who can admit, “I’m not perfect, but I’m trying.”
In this new age of parenting, the good father is a present father. He doesn’t hide behind work or tradition. He tries—sometimes awkwardly—to braid his daughter’s hair or play ten-ten or house with her. He plays ball with his son, listens when his teenager rants about the world. He shows up for school events. He knows his children’s friends, their struggles, and their fears.
But here’s the part we often miss, and this is what I want to gently press on today:
Even as he gives so much, today’s father is also a man—with his own quiet cry. A heart that longs to be seen, understood, and unburdened.
When last did you look at the father in your life whether your husband, your brother, or your own dad and see the man behind the father role? The human being who gets tired, who feels unsure, who worries if he is enough? The man who may sometimes want to run, to disappear, because the weight of expectations is crushing? The man who is also battling his own childhood wounds, his father’s shadow, the society’s voice telling him, “A man must not show weakness”?
We demand so much from fathers today : -be modern but keep tradition; be strong but also tender; provide but also be present; lead but never dominate. It’s a difficult road and many of them, just like us women, are walking blind, figuring things out on the go because they were not raised by fathers who showed them how to do these things and yet, in spite of having no or few examples they are trying, quietly, imperfectly, but sincerely.
A good father in this age is not perfect. He struggles and he fails but what makes him good is that he shows up. He chooses his family over his comfort. He listens when it’s easier to dismiss. He apologizes when he gets it wrong -a radical, brave thing in cultures where fathers rarely say sorry. He loves, not just with money or protection, but with time, attention, and care.
I see fathers, especially Nigerian men in this new world carrying invisible burdens. The pressure to succeed, to maintain status, to never show cracks. I see some of them holding their heads in their cars late at night, wondering how to meet the needs of a family in an economy that is changing faster than they were ever prepared for. I hear their silent prayers “Lord, help me not to fail them.” I see their small victories-learning to say “I love you” out loud to a child; reading a bedtime story even though they were never read to; choosing to attend therapy to break generational patterns. These are the new marks of a good father.
So this Father’s Day, I want us as wives, children, and the society to adjust our lenses.
Let’s honour our fathers not only for their strength but for their effort and the attempts to be what they themselves never had. Let’s also free them, slowly, from the cage of old definitions. A father does not have to be Superman. He doesn’t have to know everything. He is allowed to ask for help, to need reassurance, to be soft sometimes.
And to the men reading this, whether you are a father now, or hope to be one someday know this: being a good father is not about getting everything right. It is about being there. Being real. Being willing to learn, to grow, to say “I don’t know, but I will try.”
Your children don’t need a perfect man. They need a present one. A man who sees them. A man who lets them see him, the full, flawed, beautiful human behind the father mask. By being yourself you are not only fathering them, you are also giving them permission to grow up whole, human and unafraid.
So to the men who are walking this new path with courage. I see you, I applaud and celebrate you and most importantly, I honour the man behind the father.
Happy Father’s Day Photo credit