Our Masks

Behind the passive façade of every man who has embraced the concept of fatherhood would set-up walls of solid concrete around him and being the corner stone of the family, the father’s image is that of an impenetrable wall; the epitome of invincibility and one that children would look up to… hence the childish argument: “…My dad can kick your dad’s -*-…”

‘Dad’, a three letter word that can ease away the fears, chase the monsters into the deepest corners of the closet and execute them with extreme prejudice; the eradicator of phantoms and bad dreams; the ultimate super hero.

But behind every father’s veneer lies a fear all too real; fear not for himself but for the future of his children. The paradox of the whole persona is that in our strength lies our weakness. I myself have been subject to the tests of patience. The times when you must ‘steel’ yourself and grit your teeth when dealing with two year-olds, such as myself… the notion of driving them away later on if you commit the simple mistake of becoming the ultimate antagonist with a few “no’s” too often… but hey when do we say no and to what do we say yes to? I mean, really, there are times when children must be reprimanded, but to what extent must we clench our fists and hold back the angry futility that a child (or child-like pre-adolescent) would likely not comprehend? Now, here lies the test of real patience. This is the part where I’d ask my wife to step-in and do the talking while I go and walk-off some steam. Fathers are, according to a Chinese friend of mine, like or should be like bamboo; “bend unto the unpredictable force of the wind and breaking in half would be up to the limits of one’s faith.”

Behind these stern eyes and flaccid faces hides a soft-shelled romantic.