We need to talk about dads.

Shopping for kids clothing, I came across an adorable tee for my daughter, age 2, emblazoned with the words, ‘STRONG GIRL’S CLUB.’ I don’t normally go for taglines on kids’ clothes (I think it’s weird to put messages on the bodies of small humans who can’t read), but I hesitated for a moment over the ‘buy now’ button, over a top that felt feisty and fearless, just like my lunatic baby girl.

I stopped. Just what, I wondered, would be an equivalent option for my 3-year old son? I couldn’t, and still can’t, think of something that would feel appropriate. We don’t have a ready language for boys (or men) that feels not only empowering, but wholesome.

I've mentioned before my love of TV shows Working Moms and Motherland. Brilliant, hilarious storytelling that had that glorious effect of making me feel utterly ‘seen.’?

But… where are the dads? The men I know, the fathers I coach, tend to make up one half of a working partnership, a family team. They are committed and present fathers, while also (just like their partners) working damned hard at the day job. And they’re almost entirely missing from the popular consciousness.?

If I wasn’t coaching the working dads who are on my client book, I wouldn’t know a great deal about fathers' experiences, priorities, challenges, motivations.?

Because, like just about everyone else, I haven’t really asked.

So a few weeks ago, I started interviewing working dads, men who are senior leaders in fields such as academia, the armed forces, consulting, engineering, law, recruitment, sales, and tech, about their experiences of juggling work and family.

I now have more material than I ever expected. Some of this can be raw, and deeply sad. You may find this distressing; for others, there’s relief in recognition. I’ve already shared some headlines, and that might be your preferred way to engage. But in this piece, I’ll be sharing their experiences in greater depth.

NB: this is a very specific sample.

As a coach, my interest is in the individual stories we have to tell rather than the national averages. This is in no way a representation of the totality of the fatherhood experience. The men I've spoken to are university-educated professionals, married or in long-term partnerships, and had children of primary school age or younger. They’re primarily (but not exclusively) UK-based, and majority heterosexual. Which ?might make it all the more surprising that even for this limited sample, their stories are largely untold.

Men really, really want to talk about fatherhood.

When I began exploring how fathers were managing work and family life, I wasn’t sure if I’d get much of a response.

I got more than I bargained for.

Men were not only willing to be open, vulnerable, honest – they needed this outlet. I heard it again and again: “no one has ever asked this… not my work, not my friends, not my parents.” Collectively we overlook the fact that 1 in 10 fathers experience post-partum depression (that’s the same proportion of fathers, as mothers).?

Despite the need, dad-to-dad support networks don’t always work out. Whilst the ‘NCT Mums??’ Whatsapp group might be full of emotional support, problem-solving, parenting tips and strategies, “to be honest,” said one dad, “the dads’ group is just funny memes about how hard it all is.” The vulnerability doesn’t go further than a punchline.

(For readers outside the UK, NCT is the National Childbirth Trust, the country’s most well-known provider of birth preparation classes).

The problem of gathering dads together and expecting magic to happen is that we can automatically invoke societal norms by doing so. The uninvited guest, the archetype of ‘The Provider’ - looms large. And, as one dad put it, the job of the Provider is to “put up, shut up, and bring home the cash.” It tends not to encourage an open discussion of what’s difficult, or sad. And since societally we don’t really recognise a lot of the other ways in which men contribute to family life, things can get awkward. “Look, men don’t want to be forced together just because they had sex nine and a half months ago.”

To give men the chance to talk about their experiences of fatherhood, we all need to invite the conversation – whoever you are, and in fact especially if you’re female, don’t have kids, or have grown-up adult children. And recognise their contribution as being rather more complex than… sperm.

The pressure to provide (and not a lot else)

As someone who lives with a real-life dad under my own roof, I don’t think I’d understood, until I started interviewing men for this piece, quite how pervasive the model of The Provider can be for men. None of the men I spoke to thought that managing the home and the family should automatically be a mother’s role. (This is not simply a European or North American trend: across the world, 70-90% of men feel as responsible for care work as women).?But even when they’re making conscious efforts to update the script, “I have a nagging thought that I should be doing it differently”. Men are often engaged in an internal battle between an inherited model of fatherhood (ie, feeling that they ought to be the sole breadwinner), whilst also trying to find an equitable role in parenting and the home. And that’s exhausting.

The spectre of The Provider flattens men’s identities and experiences into a miserably narrow band. And when we (employers, friends, family members, partners) show so little curiosity about men’s fatherhood experiences, their attempts to branch out can feel invalidated.?

“When my kid is sick and I have to go and pick them up,” said one dad, colleagues (often women) would habitually ask, “oh isn’t your wife able to get them?”. Another shared his fury when strangers ask him if he is “babysitting” for his wife. In general men were fed up with a “kind of seventies-style humour about dads being idiots” - think, Homer Simpson, or Peter Griffin. Despite men taking a much more active part in family life than previous generations, the broader role of fathers is routinely undermined.?

One man I spoke to felt this acutely: his role was to provide financially, but beyond that, his worth seemed far from clear. “I felt like an ATM”. Switching to a private browser, he began googling in the early hours of the morning. He wanted to know the exact circumstances in which life insurance would still pay out to his partner. He set about building her a spreadsheet detailing their assets and how and where she should invest the funds to support herself and their child.?

He was working out how to provide for his family in death – rather than working out how to live.

"Providing" is harder than it once was.

The model of the Provider can be punishing. It’s also increasingly unaffordable.?

Even those on the highest incomes find that their money doesn’t buy what it once did, and a lifestyle that might have been affordable for their own parents isn’t necessarily the case for families doing equivalent work today. Parents naturally enough want to give their kids the same or better start in life as they had, and are apt to be hard on themselves if they cannot keep up to an inherited standard of ‘normal’.?

Simply recognising that today’s parents occupy a very different economical reality can be a consolation, though it might also make for tough dinner table conversations with the grandparents.?

Dads want recognition, not praise.

Very few dads reported having conversations about how they made family life work, anywhere, or with anyone. One dad who described dabbling in “light dadvocacy” said, “I find the conversations veer into pitting genders against each other, or as though you’re fishing for a medal.”?

Praise can be problematic – we might imagine we’re recognising a strength, but actually we’re invoking a hierarchy (if you're interested in this dynamic, you can sign up for my newsletter for a piece on the perils of praise). The dads I spoke to hated being greeted in the street with a, “well done! Look at you giving mummy a break!” - it denigrated their role.

Dads hesitate to share their experiences because we haven’t created a safe environment for them to do so. So many men ended their conversations with me by pressing the verbal delete button. “But, look,” said one, “this doesn’t compare for a moment to the woman’s experience, I don’t want to take anything away from them.”?

One of the fathers I spoke to was bereaved. His son had died before his second birthday after battling with illness from birth. He’d had a “crappier year than pretty much anyone” in his social or professional circle. But he was frustrated that, “now no one can tell me anything that’s going wrong for them without caveating it first. I have to pre-empt it and let them know I don’t have a monopoly on sadness.”?

Dads really don’t want a medal. They don’t want to ‘win’ the competition for who has had it toughest. They just want to be part of the conversation, and to be eligible for emotional support too.

It’s a case of and, not or.

How to start the conversation

Supporting working dads is an essential component of securing mens’ mental health, enabling mothers back into the workplace, and giving kids the best start in life - and even! - economists’ concerns about falling birth rates.?

Recommendations for working dads?

1. For all dads: get the emotional support you need, from more sources than just your partner (who is likely to be following the same ups and downs as you.) I was surprised and delighted by men’s willingness to talk, once you initiate the conversation.?For dads struggling with their mental health: if you believe you may be suffering with depression, or PTSD, speak to a GP without delay. Movember also offers an extensive list of support services. And as always: if you're ever worried that someone's life is in immediate danger, call 999 or go directly to emergency services.
2. Have some compassion for the struggle. Reflecting on the model of fatherhood you inherited from your own childhood, as well as the changes you have made to that, can be helpful. ?Acknowledge how far you have come, as well as where you’ve arrived; the courage you have already shown.
3. Acknowledge the time you find yourself in. We so often judge ourselves by standards that no longer apply. Generationally, you occupy a different economic and social context to your own parents. Personally, the way you approached your career and work an early career stage, prior to having children, probably called for different behaviours and working style than is needed now. You are preparing your children for their future, not your past.
4. Expand your idea of provision beyond the merely financial. One dad told me, “Initially, it was about financial provision. But as the kids are getting older and I’m growing into parenting, it’s about intellectual and psychological and emotional provision. We’re going up Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.”

And for everybody else

1. Invite the conversation about fatherhood – whoever you are. Don’t expect dads to make the first move. Make the time to check in.“How have things changed for you since you became a dad?”“What’s easier than you expected? What’s harder?”“What’s surprised you about becoming a father?”“I had a difficult birth too, and I sometimes wonder what it must have been like for my partner looking on and not being able to do anything about it. What was going on for you?”
2. For older generations, stay curious. What’s changed for fathers today? How might their circumstances be different, and lead to different choices? And grandparents: give your son a call. Ask him how he’s doing, as well as the baby.

Hello! I'm Tamzin Foster. I'm an Executive Coach working with senior leaders. This includes, but is not limited to, working fathers.

I have more material than I ever expected on fatherhood. I’ll be sharing more on this subject over the coming month.

If you have a platform (podcast, media outlet) who would like to feature this story, please get in touch at [email protected]. If you're keen to read the next instalment and would like to know when I'm launching more, please follow me here.

And finally, if you would like to engage a professional coach to support your own development or that of your team, I'd love to hear from you. please get in touch at [email protected].