This wasn’t mostly over serious matters, but rather the usual thing which occupied my mind as a teen growing up...
father’s day special
“Hum hain na [we are here]” was the response from my father each time I expressed any frustration at an outcome or a feeling of helplessness. This wasn’t mostly over serious matters, but rather the usual thing which occupied my mind as a teen growing up.
Three simple words which provided a lot of comfort; it was not financial, but moral and emotional. Whether intended or not, this shaped me for life and how I wanted to be with people. It also meant that since 2008 I have felt a gap of reassurance, whether at the front or back of my mind.
This is the 14th Father’s Day without me being able to appreciate my Abbu to his face. It’s also my 9th as a dad myself; it is a time for me to reflect on whether doing what I think is best for my kids is actually doing right by them? What do I do and what can I do better? What do the kids appreciate? What could they appreciate? What should they appreciate? Do I even know what I am doing? Answer to the last question is unequivocally ‘no’.
When Lu’Lu, now 8, was born, as I wrote for You! at the time, I was hit by how many more obstacles girls face as they grow up than boys do. It struck me again when Raffi (now 5) was born. The challenge I had to confront was how I treat them differently as a girl and boy in order to truly treat them the same?
What I observed from my Abbu when I was young was how he wanted to make sure my sister had the same opportunities as any of her male contemporaries. Going to and living at university, going out to work – these things didn’t register as significant to me at the time but when looking back they were impactful for his generation. I always think that if I can teach my kids things about life which my father taught me, it means his legacy will live on through them.
My wonder, though, is whether giving my daughter the same opportunities as my son is enough? Is there a need for greater proactivity? Maybe giving them the same opportunities is easy – is the key to facilitate the environment that enables girls to avail the opportunities? I have written before with a quiet determination about my views; honestly writing, this time, I have real doubts about how much I really know. I have to work out how to do so much.
Last year, I wrote for You! on the importance of allyship in the work place. I try my best to apply there what I want to at home. Notice someone is quiet in a meeting? Make space for them to express themselves. See someone apologising where they have nothing to say sorry for? Tell them they don’t need to say sorry. Is someone hesitating is asking something of you? Put your own foot forward. These are snippets in the grand scheme but they all add up to make a difference.
I cannot just expect my daughter to be confident just by me telling her to be so. The environment for her to be confident needs to be there – she needs to know it will not get mistaken as it often is for confident girls or women as being somehow arrogant, ignorant, rude or even all three. Or that somehow she is damaging social fabric by believing in herself. If I can give her that assurance in her home environment, it is my hope that she can carry it throughout her life.
My son, as all males do, has a role and responsibility in this: To not see any woman as less capable. To see a woman’s curiosity the same way they would treat a man’s and not as an inconvenience. To give women the respect their bravery deserves without patronising. We can all do this everywhere – in the home, schools, colleges and offices.
If my dad was around now and we had these discussions, I know not only would he be onside, he would be championing the cause. He was always about truth, justice and fairness. Crucially, he was always open to being enlightened. When I have my stubborn moments, I try to think back to this and soften myself. When Father’s Day comes around, this is the way I seek out my Abbu’s reassurance. Having his backing meant the world to me. It meant I knew I was fighting a good fight.
By the very nature of society, my daughter will face challenges simply by virtue of being female. I want my son to face these challenges with her and other he grows up with by being an ally. They will both face obstacles here in the West because of their race and religion. I cannot dismantle these. Nor can I ask them to ignore it. My role is the equip them to overcome these. A modern-day version of “hum hain na”.
The key for me is impressing upon them the importance of equity. For them to see a good relationship between my wife and I where they see the roles we both fulfil as parents, as husband and wife, as home-makers all having the same respect. For them to see how they don’t get disciplined or opportunities based on their gender but based on their character. If they see this fairness at home, it is a tool for them to apply away from home.
Speaking (or writing!) honestly, this balance is one of things on this journey of parenthood which I find the hardest. And I am not getting it right, at least not right enough. All I have done is chosen a path without any way of knowing if it is the right one or any more justified than someone else’s.
Treating Lu’Lu and Raffi the same does not by default make them the same. We have given both of them the same opportunities and same exposure to the world. And somehow, Lu’Lu has landed on what people associate with girls (though the anti-dress and pro-trouser rebellion has begun in earnest!) and Raffi is an encyclopaedia of dinosaurs and snakes. They have both had gymnastics classes – only Lu’Lu has carried them on. They have both had football classes – only Raffi has carried it on.
Sometimes, it has felt as though I am swimming against the tide – why have I challenged clothes brands and children’s book publishers on gender stereotyping when the reality is social change is slow and we cannot teach kids to rebel everything? But then we are reminded that we do this in the pursuit of fairness; so our children learn of its importance and so that the fight for those who come after us is that bit less daunting.
I trip over certain hurdles, something I am very aware of. With Lu’Lu in particular, my approach of not treating her just as a girl clashes somewhat with the fact that she is just that. Me not understanding, yet, her fluctuating moods, highs and low and wanting space. But I will get it; I have never been so determined to learn anything as much as I am this. I want to understand but also hold on to trying to make her aware of the bumps in the road which society, as well as biology, will be putting in her way.
How do I help her to recognise that who she is, is both what makes her so special, but is also what society will use to hold her back? How do I justify to Raffi that we talk more about the issues his sister will face than him and that he has a role to play in it?
The other phrase from my father that sticks with me is “choro yaar [let it go, friend]”. I find it easy to apply to what would otherwise be bigger worries in our lives or work stress – I can find perspective easily in those situations, living how my Abbu would have wanted me to gives additional satisfaction. But somehow, when it comes to ‘being’ an Abbu, I cannot apply that. Maybe this is because unlike anything else one achieves, and despite the way many see it, parenthood is not an accomplishment. It is a journey of constant learning, a journey I had no idea I was on.
Father’s Day is an annual part of that journey and in so many ways for me it is the hardest; reminiscing, regretting, reflecting, reconciling. Feeling loved and appreciated without being able to pay it back. Then I remember “Hum hain na” and the reassurance which comes with it. My Abbu laid the foundations for me. I owe it to Lu’Lu and Raffi to carry on building.
Naveed Khan works in the legal profession based in London. He writes regularly on gender and social issues.
