BOYS TO MEN.
The church bell shattered the crystal silence of the early dawn, sending slivers of sadness and regret to all within earshot.
‘Brother Will is gone’, was the insistent canon, and his wife's muffled scream could not dampen that declaration.
Wilfred Cornelius Ricketts had made his exit to the other world. He was only 45 years old, and I was 9, the eldest of 4 boys.
With this single event, a cornucopia of possible experiences shattered.
A tourniquet was applied to the artery of mentorship, wisdom, guidance and validation, which a father-son relationship usually portends.
I was stranded on an island, far away from the shore of my birthright potential. Without a compass or inkling of the currents, eddies, tides and whirlpools, how was this prepubescent boy going to undertake this demanding journey ?
All I had was the legacy of moments when his presence was enough, when his hands provided the loving security only a father can invoke.
This was a bittersweet admixture nonetheless, since the very hands that dispensed love were the same that ‘didn't spare the rod’, as the Bible directed.
There were no tears at the funeral, only confusion.
A wreath of messages bombarded me.
‘You have big shoes to fill’.
‘You're going to have to be the man of the house’.
Unwittingly, but well-intentioned, no doubt, aspects of my childhood innocence were carved away to make room for premature maturity.
BLACK HISTORY MONTH'S ENDS.
I THINK DEEPLY ABOUT MY FATHER AND HIS STORY AS A BLACK MAN.
What essential stories did he escort unspoken to his grave ?
What was his relationship with his father, mother and siblings ?
Were there pearls of wisdom he had preserved, which would serve his sons as a useful legacy through this life ?
What were his disappointments, his triumphs ?
How would he have described his relationship with my Mom ?
Who was his most memorable teacher ?
Besides preaching the Gospel, what was his greatest passion ?
Questions many, answers none, so I have to be satisfied with the silence of that ignorance, filling the blank spaces with fanciful thoughts.
Now, I think of the many men, men of colour in particular, who have suffered the tragedy of Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) via an absent father's route (death, divorce, emotional challenges, substance abuse, incarceration).
I think of the delayed time bomb those experiences represent.
In her book ‘How Your Biography becomes Your Biology and How You Can Heal’, Donna Jackson Nakazawa explains that depression, cardiovascular disease, chronic fatigue syndrome, ulcers and broken relationships, surface between ages 30-60, so many men live their lives as tragedies in waiting.
It is impossible to dismiss the ignominy of slavery.
It is difficult to ignore the almost scripted manner in which man's inhumanity was displayed, families dismantled, individuals stripped of their dignity and honour, their history erased.
It would be a dereliction of science to disregard the genetic transfer of these odious experiences, and the impact on the African diaspora's bodies, minds and spirits emanating from the Epigenetic effect.
I CAN ONLY CONFESS THE PROFOUND SADNESS I EXPERIENCE, AT THE REALITY THAT MANY SONS' EXPERIENCES OF THEIR FATHER'S VALIDATION WERE MADE IMPOSSIBLE.
Consequently, many have to suffer what Jed Diamond Ph.D. in his book ‘My Distant Dad’, refers to as the ‘Father Wound’.
This phenomenon is referred to as the disconnection men can have with their true selves when father support is missing.
I WILL INSIST THAT EVERY BLACK MAN CONNECTED TO THE SLAVE TRADE, DESPITE HIS CURRENT BONA FIDES, IS A VICTIM OF ADVERSE CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCES.
‘I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE MY FATHER’, one frequently hears from many young men.
Sadly, I have also sung that tune and have become acquainted with the cliche ‘Whatever one resists persists’.
With the benefit of hindsight and much personal work, similarities exist. I accept the episodes of depression that I endured and the mystery and frustration of being unaware of its genesis and confess to being my father's son.
Adverse Childhood Experiences, the ‘Father Wound of Abandonment’ being a significant one, reverberate through generations.
A SAVING GRACE, IS THE POSSIBILITY OF REDEMPTION AND HEALING ORCHESTRATED VIA A MENTOR, SURROGATE FATHER OR FATHER-FIGURE, WHO CAN PROVIDE VALIDATION AND INITIATE THE NECESSARY PREREQUISITE TO BECOMING A MAN.
I have been blessed with the benediction of elders and men younger than I, who have assisted in healing my ‘Father Wound’.
The work that I now embrace, is a consequence of my transformational journey, where I can be a ‘Doula’ for men, as they give birth to the authentic versions of themselves.
My prayer, is for a healing miracle to occur between my son and me, not only for us, but for the transformation which extends back and forward, seven generations.
CAN YOU SEE THE EXTENT OF WOUNDEDNESS PRESENT IN THE WORLD, AND THE INEXPLICABLE TRAGEDIES RELATED TO THIS FACT ?
IT IS SAID THAT HEALING BEGINS WITH THE ‘ONE IN THE MIRROR’.
DO YOU AGREE ?
JOIN ME IN MAKING THIS EXPERIENCE CALLED LIFE A ‘WOUND-FREE’ ENVIRONMENT.
I DARE YOU TO TRY.
CONTACT US
https://www.mendoula.org/contact-us
EMAIL
rico@mendoula.org
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