Baba
Lumumba Akinwole-Bandele
Trying to avoid being late for Saturday morning dance class at Ifetayo, my daughters and I trot down Church avenue, we stop at a light, I bend down to fix a pony tail and I hear the woman next to me say to her friend, “he is such a great father.” To most men this statement may sound flattering. After hearing this for the umpteenth time I finally realize why it bothers me. The strangers who offer this compliment simply from seeing me with my children know very little and assume plenty. Too often my mere presence with my children meets the ultimate criteria of being “a great father.” What if I am abusive or neglectful? The realities of young black men cause us to have a very short measuring stick for healthy and great fathers.
We know these realities all too well. Almost as if it’s a song in heavy rotation on hot 97. Fatherless-ness and criminalization along with inadequate housing, education, employment and healthcare all stemming from the twin towers of capitalism and racism continue to be unshakable shadows for young black men. So for most of our community, they are happy if a father is simply present.
As young black men in the late 1970s and early 80s struggled to find their way, many found a home in Hip Hop. After consistently being told what we weren’t, we were able to define ourselves and with pride be IT. These issues while real were not the things that defined us. We were so much more and used Hip Hop as a way of expressing what and who we were.
Growing up as a child in the East (a Black Nationalist educational and cultural institution in Central Brooklyn), I was surrounded by men who were for the most part present in most of their families lives. These men also served as “positive” strong male role models for most of the children. The men I knew growing up were strong, defiant, courageous and proud. It was these images that helped me put on “my face” for the world. However, as we can imagine the African centered male image of the 1970s was one that was rooted firmly in machismo and supported most basic patriarchal traditions.
This face that was being prepared for me would not be radically different than that of my peers not in the East. The core pillars of most black men’s understanding of manhood was strong, non-emotional, and firm. These images of masculinity were re-affirmed for us through mass media and most importantly through our folktales, rap music. The characters that were born out of the imagination of the emcee became the lives young people attempted to mirror.
Baba, my father —Adeyemi “Yemi” Bandele, was not only present in our family he was involved in my life. I guess it also helped that I was actively involved in his. The joy of my childhood evenings and weekends was being by his side as he went from meeting to meeting. His work focused on organizing against Apartheid in South Africa, the police killing of Arthur Miller, the invasion of Grenada, and coordinating the African Street Carnival. Much of my joy simply came from being at Baba’s side. It didn’t take me long to realize my having a father in my home was a rare thing for young men my age. The adult male presence on the block was mostly uncles and grandparents.
At an early age I learned what a tremendous impact supporting the efforts of our children has on them. Most of the major benchmarks in my life were contemplated with how Baba would feel about it. I have always had problems with critiques, constructive or otherwise. Baba’s opinion was the only one I was really concerned about. Threatened with suspension from high school for conducting direct actions as part of our organizing for an African history class, Baba came to school and defended me. The level of empowerment I felt on this day was tremendous and greatly informed (albeit subconsciously) my approach on parenting.
On February 14th 1999 at about 2 in the morning, my wife Monifa gave birth to our first daughter Naima. I was 27 years old. My father was 21 when he had his first child. I figured if he was able to do it at 21 I surely could do it at 27. Immediately after I turned thirty Monifa gave birth to our 2nd daughter, Adasa. My life changed from being focused on the late night political meetings to laying out clothes and lunch for my girls.
Baba said to me at a very early age that being a father wasn’t easy. That was an under-statement. The easy part was the first stages of late night feedings and diaper changes. The hard part was and is trying to prepare our children to live in, transform and improve this world.
Being physically present is a logical necessity for being a father, however our children need and deserve much more. The measuring stick I had for being a good father was made up of the things I experienced with my father and then the things that I observed other fathers in my community doing. My job as a father is to love which means to be present, to be involved, to listen, to challenge and to share. The idea that I am responsible for developing a healthy human being is overwhelmingly frightening, but the idea of my child being left to either figure it out along the way or allow others to attempt to do it is far more frightening and unimaginable for me.
Half of the time I’m playing catch up trying to understand what’s going on, but at the end of the day Naima and Adasa both know when they turn around I will be standing right there. My daughters have a way of exposing issues and characteristics I see in myself. This continues to be un-nerving but is necessary for my personal development as well as my children’s. I was/am forced to acknowledge that the patriarchal environment that I grew up in did impact me greatly.
For most of my adult life I embraced most mainstream anti-sexist ideologies. Now I was faced with the reality of raising two daughters in a dangerous world. One that destroys girls in so many ways I never imagined. My ideology was not enough. I had to figure out how I was going shield them from these things and also prepare them to counter it themselves. First, I had to acknowledge and change some things about me. I had to realize that while I supported the destruction of patriarchy as an institution, I did not approach it with the level of seriousness or urgency like I have with capitalism, racism, and colonialism.
The amount of support Baba exhibited with me throughout my life had to be tripled with my girls. There was no African centered institution to thoroughly insulate and prepare them culturally and politically for this world. I didn’t have most of the answers but I was going to find the answers and cover as many bases as possible.
Hip Hop has always reflected the current conditions of our people. There is a new sound to Hip Hop, a new feel and a new understanding. For many our approaches to our lives especially fatherhood have developed as well. We have moved beyond basic gender roles and are attempting to engage this process of parenting in a way that develops our children in a far more effective way. As a DJ I recognized that my tolerance for music that I wouldn’t want my children to hear has diminished greatly. All though I rarely spin for the “top 40” crowd I occasionally get an R Kelly request. My instant response is always “hell no.” My politics have become far more personal.
Being a healthy father isn’t something that is done in isolation. The best fathers I know are involved and attached to communities. They are in circles that support the healthy development of families. That simply means being in the company and lives of other families and fathers that are trying to do the same thing. These circles not only become a resource of information on parenting, they are also a support base when you need it.
I have surrounded myself with some of the best fathers I know. I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but thank you to the brothers that I learn from. I continue to be enriched by you all through our conversations, our mutual experiences and by observation. Thank you Baba Malik, Baba Emir, Baba Tarik, Baba Gamba, Baba Atiba, Baba Will, Baba Russell and plenty others. We aren’t perfect but we are aggressively pursuing perfection.
I’ve been accused on many occasions of being just like Yemi. Much of this was my intent while some I had very little control over. Adeyemi Bandele has been and continues to be my measuring stick.
*Baba – means father in several African languages including Yoruba, Arabic and Kiswahili.
- Originally published in Be a Father to Your Child: Real Talk from Black Men on Family, Love, and Fatherhood
Edited by April R. Silver, Softskull Press
http://www.tumblr.com/tumblelog/lumumbabandele
