Father’s Day is just around the corner and it has me feeling a bit nostalgic about my childhood.

Growing up, I was equal parts mama and daddy’s girl, not straying too far from either of them. For a while, my mom won out. I clung to her coattails, trying to mimic her every move, but when I hit 12 things changed. I started to really, really notice boys and found myself deep in the throws of a serious school-girl crush.

Back then, my father was one of the best high school basketball coaches in the city, always shuttling his team from tournament to tournament, never failing to let me ride along (which I was totally psyched about because my crush was on his team).

Another reason I gravitated toward my dad was because he wasn’t as strict as my mother. He’d let me listen to Snoop, Dre, Nas, and Tribe openly while my mother would toss out tapes and dole out lectures on what I should and shouldn’t be listening to. My dad, however, would let me be. He knew I was smart enough to avoid many of the perils his students dealt with, and he knew I was mature enough to make my own choices.

And if that wasn’t enough, my father has always been cool—easily able to fit in with his peers, while still relating to his students.

While I’m aware that in many of our communities fathers can sometimes be a scarcity, every Father’s Day I’m reminded about just how blessed I am to have a man who loves my mother, my brothers, and me fiercely and isn’t ashamed to show it.

Clutchettes and Gents, what do you love most about your father?


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