Why my friends were convinced I had a secret boyfriend – It was just my dad
A man and his daughter. From stern patriarchs to TikTok dancers, millennial dads are rewriting family dynamics.
What you need to know:
- My university hostel mates were shocked to discover my lengthy, laughter-filled phone conversations were with my father - not a secret boyfriend.
- They only called their own fathers about school fees.
- A comment on Nameless's viral video of dancing with his daughters triggered this memory, as someone criticised fathers who are feared figures in their homes.
Kenya’s music icon, Nameless, regularly posts exciting videos featuring his family on his socials. My favourites are usually videos of his two older daughters dancing with him. I do not know if this is a safe space to say this, but guys, I cannot dance to save my life. If Kenya was held to ransom and the solution was that Daisy should dance and set you people free, my compatriots, I am sorry to announce to you all that Kenya will be sold to slavery.
You see, I cannot clap my hands and move my legs at the same time. You will have to choose which one of those two things you want me to do, it can’t be both at the same time. I am sure that gives you a good appreciation of how much I marvel at these two young girls dancing. How are they able to do that without falling down?
After watching the latest video, I decided to scroll down to the comments. As usual there was so much love for the little girls and for the family. Then one comment struck me. Loosely paraphrased, the commenter said:
“This should be a lesson to all fathers who behave like lions in the house. They are such scary figures that even their one-month-old babies start crying as soon as they hear their voices.”
That comment had many reactions, of course pointing to how many people could relate to that post. I laughed and initially dismissed it as the legendary online sarcasm that many Kenyans effortlessly exude, until I remembered something.
Back in my first year, at the grown age of 18, I tried to live in a university hostel. I am saying I tried because eventually, after three months of trying, I gave up, packed my bags and moved back home. Details of why I gave up is a story for another day. However, for the three months I stayed in the hostel, I usually had long phone conversations with my dad on a regular basis. I don’t remember very clearly what our conversations used to be about but I suspect literary giants of Africa were a big part of what we talked about, because I was studying literature at the time. Like me, my father is fascinated by the post-colonial Africa literary canon.
My boyfriend
One day, my hostel mates accused me of hiding something. They said while they openly talked about their relationships and escapades, I remained private about my life, and they did not know anything about me. They were particularly incensed that I did not tell them anything about my boyfriend. I was taken aback. I told them I did not have a boyfriend, and could they explain what made them think I had a boyfriend stashed somewhere. One of them said the long conversations that got me so engrossed and even made me leave the room are what had sold me out.
My roommate, Chebet, was the first to accuse me of lying when I said the long conversations were usually with my father. When I asked what made her so sure I could not have been speaking to my father, she said the laughter during the phone calls took away any possibility that the person I was speaking to could be my father. What could possibly make me laugh why speaking to my father? She asked.
To further buttress her point, she explained that the only time she spoke to her father was when she was reminding him to pay her school fees, and there was nothing funny about that. My hostel mates struggled to believe I just spoke to my father when there was no emergency at home. I do not remember whether or not they eventually believed that the person I had long conversations with was my father.
A friend I had lunch with last Saturday said something that made me think that in the next generation of fatherhood, it will be the norm (not exception) for fathers to dance, go for road trips and even attend football games with their children.
His words: “I think us millennial men are the last generation that will be raised by that stoic, unflinching patriarchy. Our children and in turn, their children, will likely have a different type of father.”
Your take?
The writer is the Research & Impact Editor, NMG, [email protected]