As the baby brother of two older sisters, I never knew what it was like to care for other babies. Therefore, when my oldest son, Robert Richard Allen Turner II — Deuce, for short — was born in 2010, I had to learn how to change diapers, hold a newborn, and much more. His was the first diaper I put on and changed.
As his father, and as the pastor of Vernon African Methodist Episcopal Church in Tulsa’s Greenwood District (aka “Black Wall Street”), my prayer for his life is that he is at least twice the man I am in every good way possible. And that he has at least twice as few problems that I have. We share a middle name — Richard Allen, the first Black bishop in America and founder of the Free African Society and later the African Methodist Episcopal Church.
Just before Deuce turned 2, I was blessed with another son, Robert Malcolm Martin Turner, whom I call Bobby for short. I gave him my name along with two other individuals I greatly admire and whose strength and courage I aspire to reflect: Malcolm X and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. These three Black men — Richard Allen, Malcolm X, and Dr. King — changed the course of history in America and ultimately the world. I pray my sons do the same.
'A huge adjustment'
In the early days of fatherhood, I helped and assisted where I could, while my wife courageously nursed both of our sons. And once we got the breast pump, I assisted in the feeding. I have always adored the genius of women. Watching my wife give birth twice — in less than two years — and nurse our sons, I grew to be deeply fascinated and marveled at the astonishing capability of the female body. It is truly incredible! As a male, it is abundantly apparent that females are capable of doing far more with their bodies than men.
But becoming a dad was also a huge adjustment. In a successful relationship, we should seek to put the other person first. As a loving parent, you put your child before you as well. So seeking to be the best husband and father I can within my own internal familial priority list, I was third. Then when you add in my occupation as a pastor, where I put the needs of the congregation before mine, I became number four.
A constant refrain I hear from dads across America is that quite often we are forgotten or overlooked in terms of needing attention because we are seen as the bigger, stronger, more emotionless person in the family. However, what I have learned in my personal and vocational life speaking with countless dads is that there is an immense amount of low self-worth and neglect. Just the opposite of what most men attempt to project.
What I have learned in my personal and vocational life speaking with countless dads is that there is an immense amount of low self-worth and neglect. Just the opposite of what most men attempt to project.
Many dads are not 'fine'
Even when asked, most men will say they are “fine,” but the truth is that many are not and do not even know where to begin and feel guilty complaining about it. We have not done half the work of what the mother has done in carrying a baby for nine months, watching their body turn into a dwelling place for another human being, delivery, nursing, and much more. Males are not as fragile and delicate as the newborn baby, who requires full attention. As a father, at times, we can feel like the most responsible and least significant member of the family. Yet to utter any word of complaint is tantamount to blasphemy in many quarters.
No greater joy
Yet there is no greater joy in my life besides knowing Jesus than it is to hear my boys call me “Daddy.” It was the first word they both spoke, so it is arguably the one they have had the most practice in saying. I vividly remember them both saying “da da” for the first time, then later it evolved to be “daddy.” Today at 8 and 10, it is simply “Dad” or, when it is something special, “Daddy.”
I have been called many things in life: pastor, dean, reverend, doctor, civil rights leader, lecturer, consultant, preacher, singer, founder, and much more, but none of those titles means more to me than the one that I was given by two small delicate, fragile, human beings who I affectionately call Deuce and Bobby.
At times, I fear that I am woefully unprepared and know that I do not deserve to receive such a noble title from two amazing, thoughtful, charming, extremely smart, and talented young boys. While I pray for fathers around the world who tirelessly labor in what can often seem like thankless work, raising children, my biggest prayer is that I live a life worthy of the honor my boys bestow upon me each time they call me their dad.
