Fathering Daughters

"We have incredible influence in our daughters' lives. It is imperative that we use it positively and intelligently…

Why Dads Matter So Much to Their Daughters

By Joe Kelly

I'm really struggling with the fact that I don't verbalize how wonderful my daughters are often enough. I do tell them, but it does not flow spontaneously. I don't have the training or the modeling for it. I'll say "good job!" But I also don't want it to be "job." You know - the idea that you have value because you did something. That has been my toughest thing. Maybe just sitting with them with my arm around them, maybe that's telling them how special they are to me. I'm not sure. I have very little confidence about myself.

In more than 25 years of talking and corresponding with thousands of men with daughters and stepdaughters - dads like the one quoted above - I've yet to meet one who made it through fathering without some serious doubts.

But, despite our doubts, the impact of a father or stepfather on his daughter is astounding. Many of us vaguely sense this reality, but don't fully realize its meaning. First, having grown up as boys, we often can't understand our daughters at all. Second, we often buy into the notion (shared by many around us) that raising girls is women's work.

If you have any question about the impact a dad has, ask six adult women about their relationships with their fathers and stepfathers. The answers (seldom lukewarm) will fall into two general categories:

• My dad was/is my hero.
• My dad was/is an [expletive deleted].

One woman told me:

My father is my one male role model. And I really compare all other men in the world to my father. He is the most loving, accepting, honorable, responsible, nurturing person. He is the model that I judge all other men by - fair or not fair. The love and support and encouragement I had through those years, and continue to have, has made me a much stronger person.

We have incredible influence in our daughters' lives. It is imperative that we use it positively and intelligently, even if we're not always conscious of the impact. Before my daughter Nia set off to ride her bicycle around Lake Superior at age 18, I overheard her tell someone that she got into biking because I'd taken her riding on a local trail. I only did that a couple of times, when she was about 14, and I'm no endurance (or speed-demon) biker. But that shared experience turned her on to biking, even though I never knew it. That's one reason why I always try to act and speak around my daughters in ways that they'd be proud of.