I see how you rearrange your impossible schedule, your donor meetings and business travel, throwing a cheesy t-shirt over your neatly pressed button-down shirt just to walk the hallways of your daughter's elementary school and show the next generation that men do care, that men are indeed present.
I see you, a man with such few words, earnestly and reliably providing safety, and non-judgment, as you, day-in, day-out, bring the broken, the weary, the pained, to our place of healing and support.
I see you, and all the unspoken, seemingly insignificant things that you do. How you just can't understand the notion of"babysitting" your own child, how you've changed more diapers than she has, how you strap that child on your waist and vacuum the entire house.
I see you, always the only one in the conference plenary room, surrounded by a sea of female faces, listening right there along with us, to the statistics, the stories of all the hurt and anguish caused by your brothers. I see you joining in the disbelief, the anger, the commitment to change how we teach our boys to see the world.
I see you, as you unwaveringly teach your boy how to resist battling, commandeering, and controlling, and instead teach him to see the beauty in respect, equality, and compassion.
No matter what the statistics, the tabloids, that man on that television news show, or that one I went to college with says,
I see you.
WE see you. And we are grateful to see you bucking the trend, break the stereotype, step out of the expected role. But most importantly, thank you, for always seeing us too.
(Photo credit: Geya Art)