Opinion: Father’s Day perpetuates gender stereotypes, yet my dad defies categorization

 

Stereotypes about fathers abound: the absentee dad, the workaholic, the disciplinarian who strikes fear, the well-meaning but clueless figure, and the divorced dad who's only around on weekends for ice cream escapades and rule-breaking fun.

But my dad, now 86, defies these molds completely. Growing up in New Rochelle, N.Y., to an Italian mother and Jewish Russian immigrant father, he earned his place at Harvard in 1955 not just through grades but with blazing speed on the track. Despite silent quotas against Jewish students, Harvard acknowledged his athletic prowess. Later, he forged a successful career in L.A. as a real estate developer and found love with my mom in group therapy. His life story is a tapestry of unique experiences, but what sets him apart most is his refusal to fit into stereotypes, especially his unwavering commitment to being present in my life.

When my parents divorced in 1984, he insisted on dual custody—a rarity then—so I spent alternate weeks with him until college. During his weeks, this alpha male, exuding masculinity, took on roles traditionally associated with mothers and fathers alike. I remember cringing as he attempted to style my hair into a ponytail and proudly wore the glittery crowns I crafted for him to the grocery store. Once, at my whimsy, he even nibbled on a rose, musing that it tasted like chicken during our make-believe court session.

On long drives, he taught me the art of conversational volleying to ease my shyness, a skill that later proved invaluable. Though a perfectionist who occasionally erupted over messy rooms or disorganized homework, he always circled back with apologies and taught me the importance of repairing rifts. With a simple drawing of boxes—one colored to represent our conflict and erased to show its fleeting nature—he illustrated that disagreements needn't overshadow our bond.

Years later, facing personal crises like an unwelcome visitor abroad or a canceled wedding, his unwavering support and swift action were my anchor. When I lost my first child, his daily visits and quiet presence at a nearby coffee shop became my solace, a testament to his empathetic strength.

Even now, in his late 80s, he remains a source of wisdom and insight, always ready to brainstorm solutions to my parenting dilemmas. His ability to blend masculine strength with nurturing care, to share emotional labor without fanfare, embodies a fatherhood that defies convention.

Our culture needs more narratives of fathers like mine—men who nurture, who embody both strength and sensitivity, who stand beside their children without question or expectation of praise. My dad may stand apart, but his example inspires me daily, guiding my own journey as a parent with the hope that my children feel the same unwavering love and dedication that define my relationship with him.