Time means change: that’s the whole point. Without progression human beings would be stuck in the doldrums of unadvanced medicine and poor fashion decisions. Sometimes this change is good, sometimes it’s bad, and more likely than not it stems from some previous doctrine that’s adapted itself to match the current era. The SAHD may just be one of those.
SAHD is a pseudo-scientifc-y way of shortening the phrase “Stay At Home Dad,” the 21st century’s latest social phenomenon that becomes more apparent with each new kid being born to Generation Y parents. As opposed to traditional gender roles seen in previous decades, there is now a large portion of the male population frying the bacon while the women go and get it. You can see them everywhere now: new fathers playing outside with their kids or pushing prams with babies in supermarkets while looking for produce. Even Chris Rock’s character in the 2010 film Grown-Ups is portrayed as attempting (and failing, like everything about that movie) to comfortably nestle into the role of bread-maker, not breadwinner. And while many may see this as a triumph, a huge leap forward from previous restrictions on women, there is an undercurrent of negativity that comes with the rise of the SAHD.
An article in the September issue of GQ was a self-profile of one of today’s SAHDs living in Brooklyn. In the article, the author, Alex French, describes how although raising a child is a wonderful and magical experience, there is a potent sense of failure that underscores the occupation of being a SAHD. To put some cheap comedy in this article, it’s sad to be SAHD. Instead of the jolly, relieved sect of go-getter dads that stroll with strollers in snazzy scarves and fedoras, French describes his dissatisfaction as something stemming from anything but bitterness at the changing world. Instead, he feels a failure at not being able to substantially provide for his family while his wife went out to make ends meet. And while this may appear to be words churned from a wounded ego, just put it in terms of yourself: how do you feel on an unproductive day? Great. Okay, but how about a week? A month? After a while, yours eyes have probably become resistant to Netflix and your legs adverse to any sort of material aside from sweatpants. You’re not progressing, you’re stagnant, and how is that any way to live?
Well now that you’ve mentioned it…
Sure, some of you might be saying, “well, tough, women have had to deal with this for centuries,” does that actually make it fair? Should the roles be switched entirely because that might constitute what progress actually is? Because progress is learning from our mistakes. It doesn’t make it any more fair to push the problems of the past on someone else simply because they have yet to experience them.
By the end of the article, French and family have moved out of Brooklyn, into the ‘burbs and towards compromise. They’ve progressed towards something that suits them: an equal playing field that, hopefully, withstands time.