I know some good dads. I mean some really good fathers, but the best one I know is mine: Eugene Boyd. My dad is something special let me tell you. I am definitely a daddy’s girl. I believe he can do anything and everything. There have been times where daddy had to actually remind me that he’s human. He’d gently say, “I can’t do it all babe,” and I’d just stand there dumbfounded and reply incredulously, “You can’t?” And I meant it.
To me, he is the ultimate superhero.
I still see my father through the eyes of a little girl. This perception is at times frustrating to one of my sisters. She says I’m daddy’s hype man (I am), and I encourage him to do things he shouldn’t physically do at his age. I vociferously disagree with that assessment. I believe daddy can do whatever he thinks he can do. Precedent has been set. I cheer him on because I believe he can climb that tree, race his grandchildren or accomplish any other activity he puts his mind to. The thought that daddy can’t do something or could injure himself in his attempt doesn’t even cross my mind. I realize my sister’s point is very logical, and mine is not. However, my belief is evidence based since I’ve seen him successfully do so many things.
One of his major successes in life is being an awesome father to four girls. Yes, he raised four daughters, and he’s always blamed us for his hair prematurely thinning and going gray. Looking back, I’m pretty sure he’s right. It’s hard being the only male in the house and dealing with four teenage girls at once. He had four daughters at the ripe old age of 22. When I think about how much responsibility that was for a 22-year-old Black man, I’m in awe. He didn’t shirk his responsibility. Instead, he used it to transform his life.
My dad always tells the story of how having me changed his life. Like so many young Black males, the streets were calling. He decided not to answer that call and dedicate himself to being a good father. He was 17. I’m sure he didn’t have all the answers or know exactly what to do, but he kept pushing in the right direction.
My parents never married. They broke up as young couples often do. My dad married another woman. My stepmother also brought a daughter into the relationship, and they had two more daughters together.
In many ways, I’m the outsider. I lived with my mother for most of my childhood, and my mom eventually had two more children. However, my father never made me feel like I was the forgotten kid. He never made me feel as though I didn’t matter. And I know there were times my mother made it very difficult for him to be a good parent to me. He never gave up — even when it meant he had to go to court, first for visitation, and later for custody. If my dad and stepmom gave my sisters money, they put mine in the piggy bank. If I couldn’t come over for Christmas, they put my presents away until I could open them. Whatever issues he had with my mother, I never knew. He never once displayed a negative attitude toward her. I think that was the first display of his superpowers.
My daddy is the epitome of a good father. In fact, he’s the epitome of a good parent — regardless of gender.
He’s my superhero.