While it is important to highlight fatherhood and those who shepherd their children into adult life, we frequently forget to ask a critical question: who gets the opportunity (and privilege) to be a father if desired? For many men who identify as queer, there is a delta between wanting a child and having one.
From pampers and potties to pimples and proms, anyone who’s raised another human will tell you there are a lot of “Ps” that come along with parenting. Among the most useful “P," many would agree, is a partner—someone to nudge at night for their turn to bottle feed, take on soccer practice duties or handle any of the other million tasks that come with raising a child to adulthood.
And yet for Black gay men, the dearth of marriage-worthy partners has put the dream of a nuclear family far out of reach.
That’s changing.
This spring, millions of men will celebrate Father’s Day as single dads, part of a trend that has exploded over the past few decades. Among them are an increasingly visible number of gay men and male figures, many of them casting aside traditional timelines and methods of creating their family and redefining when and how one should become a parent.
They’re men like Alexander Langford, an Atlanta-based author and baby boomer who, at age 40, felt the importance of raising a Black child in America mattered more than whether he had a mate along for the ride. More than two decades later, adopted son Xee Langford is a thriving musician.
On television, the journey to fatherhood is blissfully straightforward: A few rough and tumble single years before finding ‘the one,’ welcoming a child or two, and settling down into cozy family life.
For Britt Chambliss, 33, the journey was similar up to a point. The Navy vet had restless years of self-discovery, found a wife, and even welcomed a daughter. Then he took a step toward an identity most fathers take for granted, shedding the female gender he was assigned at birth before stepping into his identity as a transgender man.
In 1997 I began the very personal journey of fully accepting my sexuality. In my case, at that time, bisexuality was transitional. I knew it, but I couldn't say "gay" yet to anyone. We were in the car. I had finally gotten up the nerve to tell him. Holding a big revelation like that in was beginning to take a mental toll on me. I'm strong, but something had to give, and soon. In that car, at that moment I said it - "Dad, I'm bisexual." That was a lie.
