By: Roy Douglas Malonson
This Father’s Day, we honor the men whose love can’t be measured by DNA alone. Across the Black community, fatherhood has often meant more than biology. It’s been defined by presence, protection, sacrifice—and a commitment to stand in the gap, especially when others walked away.
For generations, Black men have been the backbone of families, neighborhoods, and movements. Yet their efforts have often gone unnoticed, overshadowed by negative narratives. Today, we push those stories aside and celebrate the dads, uncles, brothers, coaches, and mentors who stepped up and never looked back.
They didn’t do it for attention. They didn’t do it for praise. They did it because they knew somebody had to.
In neighborhoods where single mothers worked long hours just to make ends meet, uncles filled in at school plays. Big brothers helped with homework and kept younger siblings out of trouble. Coaches turned practice into life lessons. Neighbors offered rides, advice, and sometimes just a listening ear. These men didn’t just help raise children—they helped raise hope.
Ask around and you’ll hear the stories. The father who worked two jobs but still made it to every football game. The uncle who taught his niece how to change a tire, balance a checkbook, and protect her peace. The older brother who missed out on his own childhood so his siblings could have theirs. The mentor who came from nothing and used his scars to guide someone else to success.
Their love wasn’t always soft. Sometimes it was tough. But it was steady. It showed up in discipline, consistency, and presence.
There’s a certain strength Black fatherhood carries. It’s a strength that defies statistics. One that pushes through the weight of generational trauma, mass incarceration, and systemic pressure. One that rebuilds what was broken and teaches boys to be better men.
And it’s a strength that teaches daughters that real love isn’t abusive, absent, or afraid. It’s protective. It’s present. It’s powerful.
Father’s Day isn’t just about the men who gave life. It’s about the men who give love. This weekend, cookouts will be lit. Ties and tools will be gifted. But let’s not forget the deeper meaning. Let’s uplift the image of Black men who nurture, guide, and protect—not just with words, but with action. Let’s rewrite the narrative. We know the numbers.
We’ve heard the criticisms. But what we don’t hear enough are the countless stories of Black men standing tall in their families, churches, and communities. Men who refuse to let absence be their legacy. Men who show up even when it’s hard.
The truth is, fatherhood in our community isn’t one-size-fits-all. It’s layered. It’s collective. It’s cultural. It’s the village mentality in motion.
To the stepdads who never used the word “step,” the godfathers who became anchors, the grandfathers who returned to raise another generation—we see you. We honor you.
And to the brothers and mentors still rising, still healing, still learning—we encourage you. The work you do is holy.
So to every man who answered the call when it wasn’t his responsibility—to the ones who raised kings and queens without a blueprint—we thank you.
As we reflect today, let us commit to building a future where more Black boys grow up knowing the love and leadership of strong, grounded men. Where fatherhood is celebrated, supported, and seen as sacred. Where presence is the rule—not the exception. Let’s tell our sons they matter. Let’s remind our men they’re valued. Let’s give our fathers their flowers while they can still smell them.
Because the truth is— when Black men show up, communities thrive.
So from the pages of this newspaper to the porches, barber shops, schools, and living rooms across the country…
Happy Father’s Day to every Black man who chose to love, to lead, to lift, and to be there. You are more than enough. You always were.
And today, we say it with our whole hearts—
thank you.
