Every June, the world turns pink and floral for Mother’s Day. Cards, brunches, and “you’re my hero” posts fill the feeds. Then Father’s Day arrives – quieter, with a barbecue and maybe a new tie. Yet behind the grill smoke and awkward hugs is a truth we rarely say out loud: Fathers need love too.
Father’s Day isn’t just a calendar event. It’s a moment to correct a cultural imbalance that has left too many dads feeling invisible.
Father’s Day wasn’t born from greeting cards. It started from grief and gratitude. The first modern celebration is credited to Sonora Smart Dodd of Washington, USA, in 1910. Her father, Civil War veteran William Jackson Smart, raised six children alone after his wife died in childbirth. Sonora wanted to honour his sacrifices. She pushed her church to hold a Father’s Day service on June 19, 1910, her father’s birthday. The idea spread slowly. For decades, Father’s Day stayed in the shadow of Mother’s Day. Presidents praised it, but Congress hesitated to make it official. Many feared it looked like a “copycat” holiday. It wasn’t until 1972, under President Richard Nixon, that Father’s Day became a permanent national holiday in the US, celebrated on the third Sunday of June. Globally, the date shifts, but the theme stays: a day to acknowledge men who father, guide, and protect. From its roots in personal sacrifice, the holiday has evolved into a broader recognition that fatherhood shapes families and societies.
Against the backdrop of this celebration, we must remember what fathers have always been: the bedrock of traditional family units. For generations, fathers provided financial support and moral guidance. They were the ones who fixed the roof, negotiated with the landlord, taught how to ride a bike, and delivered the hard lessons about integrity. That role hasn’t disappeared. Most fathers still make deep personal sacrifices to keep families safe, secure, and financially stable. They take the night shifts, the extra jobs, the stress they don’t talk about at dinner.
We also have to acknowledge a painful reality: some men are deadbeats who do not take responsibility for their families. They leave, they disappear, they fail to provide or guide. That absence causes real wounds, and those wounds deserve to be named. The harm caused by irresponsible fathers is part of why the word “father” can feel complicated. But holding deadbeats accountable doesn’t mean we ignore the millions of men who show up every day. The presence of abandonment makes the sacrifice of present fathers even more important to recognise.
That sacrifice often comes at a cost. The stereotypical “strong, silent” father grew up believing emotion was weakness. So he built walls. Children, naturally drawn to warmth, ended up closer to their mothers. Over time, the father became respected, but not confided in. Appreciated, but not understood. In recent times, fathers have come to be under-appreciated, especially as that stereotype took hold.
Fathers have emotional needs too. They need love and appreciation, not just for what they provide, but for who they are. Many dads carry loneliness quietly. After decades of putting family first, old age can feel like abandonment. The kids grow up, move out, get busy. The man who once held everything together now sits with memories of youth spent in service to others. The phone doesn’t ring as much. The house gets quiet. Most fathers feel lonely and abandoned in their old ages after sacrificing their youth to raise families. That loneliness isn’t weakness. It’s the natural result of a life spent pouring out. Perhaps the answer isn’t just for us to love them better, though we must. Perhaps fathers should evolve too and not be too emotionally distant. The world is changing, and emotional distance no longer has to be part of the job description. A father who can say “I miss you” or “That hurt” gives his children permission to feel as well. Strength and softness can coexist.
This need for connection isn’t new. It’s ancient. In hunter-gatherer societies, the father’s role went beyond “provider.” Yes, he hunted and defended the group. But anthropology shows he was also a teacher, protector, and social anchor. In many tribes, fathers taught boys how to track, make tools, and read the land. They mediated disputes. Their presence reduced stress for mothers and children, improving survival rates. The father was the boundary between the family and the wild. That role demanded courage, but it also demanded presence. Love in those societies wasn’t always spoken, but it was shown – in shared meat, in teaching a son to start a fire, in standing watch while others slept. From ancient campfires to modern living rooms, the core hasn’t changed: fathers anchor the family.
So this Father’s Day, let’s do better. Fathers need love and should be celebrated. They need to be celebrated, not just for paycheques and discipline, but for their humanity. Call your dad. Tell him a specific memory you’re grateful for. Ask him how he’s really doing. If he’s the “strong, silent” type, give him space, but don’t let the silence become distance. And to every father reading this: your sacrifices matter. Your love matters. You are allowed to need care, to feel lonely, to want a hug. Being a father doesn’t mean you stop being human. Father’s Day should be more than a card. It should be a correction. A reminder that the men who built us up deserve to be held up too. This year, let’s make the celebration louder. Because fathers need love too – today, and every day.
. Eze can be reached via: [email protected].
