Fatherhood and Relationships: What Should Our Bond with Our Dad Look Like?

In this reflective episode of The Perspicacious Perspective, I explore one of the most formative relationships in life: the bond with our fathers. I share my personal experiences with my own dad—how he shaped me, challenged me, and continues to influence the man I am today.

We dive into the psychology and societal expectations of fatherhood, unpacking why a competent and consistent father figure is essential—not just in childhood, but throughout life. I discuss the role dads play as male role models, the lessons they set for sons and daughters, and what it truly means to be a good father.

I also reflect on the lasting impact of absent or flawed fathers and consider practical ways to break cycles and nurture healthy father-child relationships. Whether you’re a parent, a child, or simply curious about the dynamics that shape our emotional lives, this episode provides a candid, thoughtful perspective on fatherhood and its enduring legacy.

Transcript

Welcome to the Perspicacious Perspective.

I’ve decided to do an episode on relationships with our dad.

I’ve realised that relationships with our fathers are not spoken about nearly enough.

I say that because the relationship with our dad, or the lack of one can be potentially the most important relationship we have- or don’t have.

That means a lot of us go around not realising how privileged we are if we have a good relationship with our dad, and a lot of us go around not realising what we’ve missed out on, if our dads weren’t around or they weren’t present- particularly during our childhood.

So I hope that this episode will make you think about the relationship you have with your own dad, or if you don’t have the privilege of having a good relationship with your dad, what that might mean and how you can go about addressing what you feel you may have missed out on.

I’ll start by talking about the relationship I have with my own dad, then move on to some theories I have about the importance of having a competent dad around us throughout our lifetime.

So my own dad was born in Nigeria. Just to give some context, my mother was born in Manchester. Her mother is a white British lady, and my maternal grandfather was born in Jamaica – who passed away when I was 6 years old.

It’s funny because when most people meet me, they assume due to the hue of my skin tone, that I’m completely black- which is reasonable since I’m three-quarters black. But the fact that my mum isn’t Nigerian completely shifts the dynamics of mine and my siblings relationship with our father.

When my dad arrived in the UK, he met a white English women who he ended up having a child with- my older half-brother who is about 8 or 9 years older than me. 

My theory is that she supported his Visa to stay in the UK, and I imagine the child was unplanned due to the fact that they never lived with one another, and the fact that my dad never had anything good to say about her. 

My dad then went on to have a child with a 19 year old girl, my mother, when he was 26 (which I think is a bit weird now I’m an adult), then 2 and a half years later, he had twin boys- and I’m one of those twin boys.

Now what I want you to understand is that my father having children with a woman who is not Nigerian, even being away from his home nation, was frowned upon by his family and culture. Why? Well my dad comes from a very Christian family. His closest brother, whom I stayed with when I visited Nigeria as a kid on both occasions, is a pastor. And I was impressed with how popular he was in his hometown when I visited the last time I was in Nigeria.

Now my mum does come from a culturally Christian family, but she didn’t grow up going to church, or practicing any Christian traditions, other than the main Christian celebrations like Easter and Christmas.

I say this to say that it was unusual for a Nigerian man in the time that he came, to have children or to settle with someone who wasn’t Nigerian.

That meant that growing up my siblings and I only grew up speaking English, as that was the language my parents would use when speaking with one another.

The fact that my siblings and I can’t communicate with our own father in his native language I believe considerably draws a certain distance with him that a lot of people won’t understand.

It meant that I grew up always perceiving my dad as a foreigner. And when you don’t speak the language of a foreigner, you ignorantly perceive them as being somewhat intellectually inferior- as they can’t communicate their ideas with the fluency or articulation that a native person can communicate with.

I’ve also come to believe that my inability to communicate in my dad’s native language is testament to the lack of relationship my siblings and I had with our father growing up- as if we were able to communicate in that language- it would show that we interacted with him intimately.

The early memories I have of my father was complete distance. I had what seemed to be a normal relationship with my mum, but when my dad came home the atmosphere changed completely.

From what I can tell today, my father never really viewed us as his own children. He too saw us as foreigners. We didn’t grow up going to church, we didn’t speak his language, we didn’t eat Nigerian food that often, we were lighter skinned than he is- there was definitely a complexity. I even recall when I was about 12 or 13 years old, that he told us he perceives us as Nigerian- even though we think we’re English- but his perspective didn’t necessitate the fact that he had to teach us the things he knows to retain his own culture- a 4 year old doesn’t have the maturity nor initiative to subscribe to a language course to learn a 3rd world language spoken on the other side of the world. Motherfucker you have to teach it us!

To be honest I think the fact that he told us at that age meant that he had realised we were not going to be culturally Nigerian by default. That he was disappointed that we had turned out to be very culturally English and he was too uneducated to realise that it was his own fault. And boy did he take that out on us.

That’s when the regime began. As my twin brother and I were getting older and becoming more aware, our relationship with our dad deteriorated. We naturally became more inquisitive and less submissive, while he became more dictatorial, aggressive and violent. 

Now due to the ethnic demographics of Manchester at the time we grew up and went to school, none of our teachers could put their finger on why my twin brother and I were so troublesome at school.

Normally if you had two strict Nigerian parents at home, the children would behave well at school and might even be quite studious. However, my brother and I were acting like we didn’t even have a dad- until one of our teachers followed through, called our bluff and arranged to meet our parents at home.

My parents gave them the impression that they were educated, strict, they cared about their children’s education, and were willing to do what’s necessary to ensure we obtain a good education. But it was all a farce.

My dad had never been to one single parent’s evening. When he dropped us off at school in the morning, he made out as if we were a burden for him having to drop us off. He never asked us about how school went, who our favourite teachers were, what our favourite subject was, came to watch us play football… nothing. He didn’t give a fuck what we were up to. He was simply following the law.

Now before I drift off into a therapy session, I’ll cut to the chase and tell you how the regime ended. Our tumultuous teenage years culminated in a fight, 3 months after moving into university dorms when my dad attacked me after I challenged him for calling me useless when I was 18 years old. My twin brother returned a punch and when he realised he was unable to suppress us using violence, he kicked us out.

So that was our childhood with our father.

Now the reason I’ve told you all this is so that you can understand what I mean when I say this. Even though my father was there physically, he was absent emotionally.

You would think that a dad would be over the moon when they hear they’re having twin boys- no matter where in the world you’re from. 

Dad’s normally have a natural bias to having a boy, so they can raise the boy to be like them- somewhat narcissistically. And having twin boys may even be seen as a blessing, as the chances one will be like you increase two-fold.

Now the only reason a dad might not be happy about having twins is if they feel that the children are going to be a financial burden. Perhaps my dad only wanted one more child, maybe he didn’t want another child at all.

The reasons my dad was emotionally absent during my childhood years I’ll probably never apprehend, but I can only attribute the reasons for his emotional absence to what I’ve just said- maybe I’m completely wrong.

To be honest I thought this was a normal relationship to have with your father. I didn’t know any better. How would I? It was the only father-son relationship I’d been exposed to.

It wasn’t until I was in my second year of university that I realised that our relationship wasn’t normal. I remember one of my female white roommates- yes her race is important here- suddenly got up during a conversation and said she was gonna call her dad.

I thought, why on earth would you voluntarily call your dad? And that was the beginning of the realisation of what I had missed out on.

Throughout my twenties, I was exposed to many more father-son relationships- especially as a teacher. The more I was exposed to, the more resentful I became about how incompetent my father was- yet at the same time, I was learning how important it is for a child to have a good relationship with their father.

Anytime I would open up about the struggles I had with my dad, I would often hear that I should be grateful that my father stayed and didn’t abscond- but ironically, I remember wishing that my mum would leave him when I was a teenager.

So this is the conclusion I’ve come to. I’m grateful that he stayed. Him staying made it virtually impossible for my brother and I to loiter around the streets. Even when my dad went to Nigeria on holiday, the freedom my siblings and I had with just our mum looking after us was untrammelled. If that was the status quo, I’m pretty sure my mum wouldn’t have coped and we’d have ended up on the streets up to no good. And I don’t say this lightly. I can clearly imagine how it would’ve played out- especially in the area of Manchester we were raised in. My sister would’ve likely had a teen pregnancy- and the cycle of poverty would be back in full motion.

But despite this, it doesn’t change the fact that my brother and I were bereft of the emotional attention we needed from our father.

So this is what I’ve concluded we missed out on. We missed out on having a male role model that ensured we were only exposed to the version of a man that he perceived as optimal. Children are extremely ingenuous which means they tend to mimic what they perceive around them. That’s why children adopt languages better than adults- because they unabashedly mimic their surroundings, especially older family members who have a tutelary duty to protect and care for them. They look up to them. They lionise them.

We missed out on having a father that dogmatically protects us. What I mean by this is that children are prone to do imprudent and reckless things. It’s only by doing those things and observing the ramifications, that we learn whether we should do those things again- or not. A child that constantly fears the consequences of doing reckless things they’re inevitably likely to do, will naturally cower away from doing things that might lead to bad consequences. That takes a massive toll on their confidence. Because if they do something wrong, their father will manifest disappointment and shame which will create an emotional distance between themselves and their child. So this leaves a child that shies away from risks.

Childhood is all about risks. If there’s ever a time for a human to make mistakes- it’s when they’re a child. That’s how we learn. If anything, we should expose our children to as many risks as possible because when we become adults- we’re not gonna be as carefree as we were when we were children.

Now let’s imagine a child raised by a protective father. The father is gonna ensure their child is exposed to enough risks that will allow them to develop naturally. Whether that’s in sport, in the classroom, at the park- the child will feel liberated enough to take risks knowing full well that their dad will protect them if they make a mistake- rather than scold them- as children will make mistakes.

It complies with the philosophy behind Jordan Peterson’s 11th rule in his second book 12 Rules for Life; Do not bother children when they are skateboarding.

To adults, skateboarding can seem like a zero-sum game- especially for parents. The more risks you take when skateboarding- the better you become. You could say the same about parkour or any contact sport. Your child is likely to take risks and get hurt.

A father’s role here is to manage the risk, encourage their child, and be ready to protect them if something goes wrong. Their presence- or emotional presence- can be enough to make the child focus on enjoying the thrill of the risk without worrying too much about the consequences.

Obviously there’s a line. If the father is over-protective, the child doesn’t take enough risks- and if the father is under-protective, the child is likely to get hurt.

The relationship between a father and a son- as opposed to a father and his daughter is likely to be very different.

If a son manifests stereotypical boisterous behaviour, then the dad is likely to attempt to prepare them for adulthood- whose role will be completely different to that of a stereotypical effeminate girl.

The dad might aspire for his son to become the kind of man that isn’t afraid to take risks, can be relied upon, and is independent.

A dad might not necessarily have the same aspiration for his daughter. His daughter is likely to go into adulthood expecting to be looked after by another man. So the expectations can differ here.

For girls, the way I view it is… a father will ensure that his daughter learns what a competent man looks like both emotionally and psychologically. That way, when the daughter starts dating, she will have high expectations from her potential suitor. It kind of explains the daddy issue thing. If a girl grows up not knowing what a competent man looks like, they can become vulnerable when entering the dating market- as many men are skilled at feigning to be more competent than they actually are.

So what does a competent dad look like?

A competent dad is a dad that manifests his love for his child through his actions, not necessarily by what he says. 

What use is a dad that tells his child he loves them all the time, but is living on the other side of the planet?

A dad should show his love for his child by being present. And as I told you about the relationship my dad and I have, being physically present doesn’t necessarily suffice.

In other words, the dad is responsible for incubating the child in a way that allows them to only be exposed to the things you want them to do or become- to a certain degree.

I’ll give you an example.

If a dad wants his son to be an avid reader when they grow up, they must sacrifice their impulsive desires and read around their child all the time. That way, the child will build curiosity, and teaching them to read won’t feel like swimming against the current, as I said earlier, children tend to mimic the adults around them. 

For it to be done successfully, the dad has to have the patience to actually teach the child how to read, the dad has to actually get to know their child so they know what books they to read, and the dad has to do it consistently enough for their child to take the initiative to want to read more books. Now obviously this is easier said than done. But if the dad truly loves their child, and truly expects their son to be an avid reader when they grow up, the dad will be willing to go through this strenuous period to create the outcome he wants for his child.

I’ll give you another example.

If a dad wants his son to be a caring, patient and loving partner to his wife or partner when he grows up, then the dad has to consistently be a caring, patient and loving partner to his mother. Again, easier said than done.

There’s a reason lots of men say that the birth of their child changed the perspective on their own life. Suddenly, they realise that there is someone more important than them, and that they have to become the best version of themselves in order for their child to be exposed to the version of a man they want their child to either become, or the version of a man they would deem as competent.

To be a competent man for 2 decades, who is emotionally and psychologically mature and disciplined throughout it, is no task for the weak.

No wonder why the best thing to happen to many people can be the birth of their child- because now there’s someone else who will suffer the consequences of your impulsive and imprudent actions.

Now how does a dad know if they’ve done their job well?

There’s many things that the child won’t necessarily understand until they grow up- especially when they’re teenagers. There are some simple questions that a dad can ask to ascertain this: Will my child look back when they’re an adult and be grateful I did this? Will my child want to have a relationship with me when they become an adult? Will my child learn to understand what I sacrificed for them?

If the answer is a categorical yes to these 3 questions- the dad is probably doing it right. There is nothing easy about being or becoming a competent dad yet the reward trumps the sacrifice. The sacrifice only really lasts for 2 decades, but the relationship you can build with your child will last for the rest of your lifetime.

Not having a male role model can have devastating consequences on a child. After ruminating introspectively on this, I realised that I grew up with relatively poor male role models during my childhood. I’ve been able to attribute many issues I have with my relationship with myself, and particularly the relationship with my partner to the deficit of emotional male attention I subconsciously longed for when I was growing up.

This has made me aspire to be a better version of myself. The truth is, I’ve been disillusioned enough not to care as much about myself as I once did which I understand can be a dangerous trajectory. However, I know myself well enough to know that having a child in my life would suffice for me to be able to make better decisions in terms of becoming a man I believe to be competent. 

Since I’m gay, it’s impossible for me to end up having an unplanned child. This makes it easier for me to fall into a rut of having a self-serving lifestyle that is predicated on impulsivity and selfish desires. If I were heterosexual, I’d be likely to end up having an unplanned child at some point which would galvanise me to reconsider whether I embody that male role model that I would want my child to be exposed to throughout their childhood.

The relationship I have with my little brother who is 17 years younger than me has helped me to understand the importance a male role model can have in someone’s life which continues to incentivise me to be a better version of myself- especially as he gets older as he will begin to judge me.

But the relationship a father and a son has is unparalleled as I would have full responsibility to ensure that I embody exactly how I would want my child to perceive a competent man.

Until then I’ll never truly understand how difficult it is to be and become a competent man and father.

I hope you can take something away from this episode and if you enjoyed listening to it- subscribe as I’ll be posting more content like this.

Thanks again for listening.