The Problem Without a Name: A Cry for the Missing Fathers

The Problem Without a Name: A Cry for the Missing Fathers

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

There’s a pain that rides the wind in our communities a pain folks don’t often talk about. It don’t show up on the news ticker, but it shows up in the eyes of our sons, in the silence of our daughters, in the tired steps of mothers holding it all together. It’s called fatherlessness. Some try to dress it up or act like we’ve outgrown the need, but let’s not kid ourselves. It’s a wound, deep and raw. It’s a problem without a name, but its fingerprints are everywhere.

Now, I ain’t here to preach this ain’t no sermon. It’s more like a front porch conversation with some sweet tea and the spirit of my grandma Celestine sitting beside me, nodding along with that knowing look in her eye. Because she always said, “Baby, just 'cause folks stop crying out loud, don’t mean they stopped hurting.”

And brothers and sisters, we’re in some strange times. Times where we’re told that a family can run on just one wheel. Society’s been handing out this terrible idea that we don’t need a family unit. That a mama is enough. That a daddy is optional. That two broken halves somehow make a whole.

Let me tell you what Grandma Celestine used to say about that: “You can cook a pot of greens without seasoning, but that don’t mean they taste right.”

We’ve normalized single homes like it’s just another hairstyle or new phone upgrade. We made it look cute on TV. We pat each other on the back for doing the job solo and yes, hats off to the women who’ve done it. But let’s not confuse survival with design. Let’s not pretend a band-aid is a cure.

Family was created with balance in mind. Two wings make a bird fly. And when one wing is missing? The bird don’t soar, baby it spins. It crashes. And that’s what we’re seeing all around us.

Fathers are more than just breadwinners or the guy who assembles bikes on Christmas Eve. They are reflections of protection, identity, and guidance. When they’re missing, something spiritual breaks. Boys grow into men still searching for approval they never got. Girls grow into women trying to fill an invisible void.

Now, let’s keep it real some of our brothers checked out. Some ran off. Some are physically present but emotionally vacant. But some of us… we tried. We really did. And when we stumbled, it wasn’t always because we didn’t care. Sometimes we just didn’t know how. Sometimes we were trying to learn how to be fathers without ever having one.

And ladies, yes, you have a role in this too. Oh yes, you do. You got to inner-stand men got feelings too. We may not cry into our pillows or journal in cursive, but we hurt. We ache. When we can’t come through, it eats at us. When we’re trying to find footing and can’t get our feet grounded, it breaks something inside.

And then? Then comes the part folks don’t like to admit when our woman turns her back instead of holding our hand. When instead of praying for us, she preys on us. That verbal judo, the emotional chokeholds, the sarcasm served for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Baby, that ain’t love that’s spiritual malnutrition.

Grandma Celestine had a way of putting it. She’d say, “You can’t expect a man to build a house with no hammer and keep yelling at him 'cause the roof is leaking.”

Men need encouragement too. We need to hear, "I believe in you," even when we don’t believe in ourselves. We need someone who sees the king in us when the boy in us is scared. And we need prayer. Not side-eye prayer. Not 'Lord, fix him because he’s a mess' prayer. But real, loving, cover-his-heart type of prayer.

And sisters we have to stop the pettiness. Yes, I said it. The gossip circles, the girl group chatter, the "girl you don’t really need him, you can do bad all by yourself" nonsense that mindset is toxic. It poisons relationships before they have a chance to breathe. The verbal abuse, the constant cutting down, the emotional mind games it has to stop. I’m speaking from experience. I’ve taken a lot under the chin, and I know the sting of words meant to wound. I know what it feels like to keep silent while your spirit is breaking. That pain is real.

And let’s be honest here how can a man talk to you, open up his heart, when every time he tries, he’s met with defense, anger, rudeness, self-righteousness, and selfishness? How can he be vulnerable with someone who always has their fists up, even when he’s coming with open hands? Connection dies in combat, and love don’t grow in war zones. If we want kings, we have to stop swinging like gladiators every time they speak their truth.

Women have to stop complaining and learn to be humble. Patience is a virtue that goes both ways, especially when a man has sincerely turned to the Creator for guidance. If he’s trying to do better, trying to align with something higher, let him grow. Let him evolve. Don't stomp on his progress just because it ain’t happening fast enough for your timeline. Real change takes time, and even the strongest trees start as seeds in the dirt.

And fellas, let’s not let this be our excuse either. It’s time to stand up. To come home. To apologize if we need to. To break the cycles. Because we can do better. We have to. There’s a generation watching us, hoping we show up different.

And for the system that feeds off our brokenness we see you. We know the game. Break the family, and the community falls. But not on our watch. Not with this awakening. Not with this fire stirring in our spirits.

To my queens holding it down thank you. Truly. We honor your strength. But even warriors need rest. Even you were never meant to carry it all alone.

To my brothers who left it’s not too late. Come back. If you’re breathing, you still got a chance to be the father your children will brag about someday.

And to every child who never heard "I’m proud of you" or "I love you" from their father, know this: you are not broken. You are not less. And you are most definitely not alone. The Father above sees you, loves you, and is proud of you still.

As Grandma Celestine would say, “Honey, God can grow roses out of concrete. Just give Him a little faith and a whole lotta room.”

Let us return to each other. Let us return to what matters. Let us stop being comfortable with the broken and start rebuilding what was always sacred.

Because family was never a trend. It was a divine design.

And baby, it’s time we treated it like one

#somethingsarebiggerthanus