Sometimes, I get a sympathetic pat on the back or a quick gasp, as if the person is genuinely feeling my pain. “Oh man, two girls… I’m so sorry. That must be tough.”
In reality, I’m a father of three—one son and two daughters. It’s usually men who express this faux sympathy when they learn about my daughters. They often ask how I manage or how my son is coping with all the “drama.”
I should clarify: not all men react this way. It mainly comes from those with a hyper-masculine vibe. Within my job in a Division I athletics program, some athletes joke about how challenging it must be to raise two daughters, despite their lack of real parenting experience. But what truly gets under my skin are the strangers—like older men at the grocery store who pinch my arm and say, “Two girls, huh? You’ve got your hands full.” They wink, flash a toothy grin, and laugh as if I’ve drawn the short straw in parenthood.
I usually offer a polite, albeit awkward, half-smile. I’m not one to start a confrontation with a random stranger, and they often misinterpret my response as agreement, when in fact, it’s just annoyance that they don’t understand my reality.
Admittedly, when I learned our second child would be a girl, I felt a twinge of anxiety. It wasn’t any more intense than what I felt when our son, Jake, was born, but it was new territory. Raising a boy made sense to me. But now, reflecting on the journey with my daughters, I can confidently say that being a father to girls has been a remarkable experience.
It has melted my heart in ways I never expected. It’s meant reading the same poorly written book about “Frozen” every night for weeks, even though I grew tired of the story—it was worth it for those cuddly moments with my daughters. I’ve found myself singing “Let It Go” on early morning drives to work. It’s made me question the messages we send about beauty, like with Barbie dolls.
Fatherhood has introduced me to a whirlwind of emotions I didn’t know I had. I’ve learned that I have a softer side and that I’m not as tough as I once believed. The sweetest words I hear are, “I wove you, Daddy,” while the most painful ones are, “I’m never going to talk to you again!”
Perhaps this is what those strangers are getting at. Raising daughters can transform a man in profound ways, softening the edges and bringing hidden emotions to the surface. It challenges the idea that men should bury their feelings deep down.
However, what these well-meaning individuals fail to realize is that raising daughters does not make you weaker or less masculine. In fact, it has made me a more compassionate, rounded individual. Through my daughters, I’ve gained insights into the struggles and expectations women face, and rather than diminishing me, it has enriched my character.
I feel fortunate to be a dad to daughters. Instead of pitying me, those men should recognize how lucky I truly am, because I am.
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In summary, being a father to daughters has been an enriching journey, reshaping my perspective on masculinity and parenting, and ultimately making me a better person.
Keyphrase: proud father of daughters
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