The beautiful, hard work of co-parenting

My name is Joel,

and I'm a co-parent.

So growing up, I never heard
the term "co-parent."

I heard a lot of other things, though,

for starters, absentee father,

sperm donor --

that's a good one --

deadbeat dad,

and, my personal favorite, baby daddy.

Baby daddy, for those not in the know,

refers to an individual
to helps to conceive a child

but does little else.

Baby daddy is also someone
who is not married by law

to the mother of said child.

Growing up, I though co-parent
was reserved primarily for white families

that starred in Netflix primetime dramas.

(Laughter)

I still kind of does.

But it wasn't used to explain
the role of a parent. Right?

Either you had kids or you didn't,

and no one in my social circles
or at our dinner table

was having complex conversations
about the role fathers played

in that conversation, right?

A more balanced, open,
loving approach to parenting

was not something we were discussing
within our social circles.

A majority of the time,

the fathers I knew growing up

were barely present
or just completely nonexistent.

Co-parent wasn't a term I heard or saw

where I grew up, where I came from.

I come from the hood.

That hood would be Creston Avenue,
188th in the Bronx.

And for -- one person, what's up.

(Laughter)

Appreciate that.

For a lot of us in that hood,

there was only one person
you could already turn to

for food, shelter, warmth,
love, discipline: our mothers.

My mother, who I playfully call Linda T,

was my first example of real love

and what showing up
as a healthy co-parent looked like.

She was a strong,
determined single mother,

a woman who would have benefited greatly
from having a secure and stable partner

as a co-parent.

So I vowed, right, whenever I got married,

my boo and I would be together forever.

You know?

We'd share the same bed and home,

we'd sleep under the same covers,
we'd argue at IKEA, normal stuff.

My partner would feel seen and loved,

and our children would grow up
in a two-parent household.

However, things rarely ever
end up how we planned them.

Our daughter Lila has never known
a household with both of her parents

living together under one roof.

Her mother and I were never married.

We dated on and off for several months
before we found out she was pregnant.

Up until then, my mother
didn't even know she existed.

I was ashamed,

I was embarrassed,
and at times I was suicidal.

I was asking myself, what was I doing?
Where was I going wrong?

I never wanted the stigma or label
of what some identified

as the stereotypical black father, right?

So absentee, confrontational,

combative, not present.

It took a lot of work, time,
energy and effort

for us to finally realize

that maybe co-parenting for us
didn't need to mean a shared household

and wedding bells,

that maybe, just maybe,

the way we showed up as co-parents

lay not only in the layered nuances
of our partnership

but the capacity within our hearts
to tend to a human

that we helped create together.

(Applause)

It would involve love

in a nurturing and safe environment

that would feed Lila

long after we both left this earth.

Fast forward four years,

and Lila is now in pre-K,

she loves gummies,

and she says things like,
"My heart is filled with love."

She's the most loving, compassionate,
empathetic human being I know,

and the reason I get to tell you
all of this is because

she's back in the Bronx with her mother.

You see, this is co-parenting,

and in an ideal world,

my mother would have had a co-parent too.

She would have had support,

someone to show up and give her
a break, a time off,

and in an ideal world,
every parent is a co-parent.

In an ideal world, both parents share
the weight of the work appropriately.

Lila's mother and I have a schedule.

Some days, I leave work
and pick Lila up from school.

Some days I don't.

Lila's mother gets to go rock-climbing

or study for the LSAT,

and I get to stand in a room
full of bold, dynamic and powerful women

and talk about dad stuff.

(Applause)

It is work, it is beautifully hard work

dismantling the systems
that would have us believe

a woman's primary role is in the kitchen
tending to all things domestic

while the hapless dad
fumbles all over himself

whenever he has to spend
a weekend alone with the kids.

It is work that needs to happen right now.

You see, far too often,

what it seems like is
when both parents are working,

one parent is typically tasked
with organizing the household

and keeping the home running.

That person is typically a woman
or someone who identifies as such.

Far too often, those who identify
as mothers and as women

have to sacrifice their dreams
in order to appease the standard.

They have to sacrifice their dreams
in order to ensure that motherhood

takes precedence over all else.

And I'm not here to say that it doesn't,

but what I am here to say
is as equal partners and co-parents

it is our duty to ensure
that our co-parenting partners

don't have to put their passions,
their pursuits and their dreams

to the back burner just because we're
too self-absorbed to show up as allies.

(Applause)

Co-parenting makes the space
possible for everybody.

As a co-parent,

the time I've gotten
to share and spend with Lila

is time I appreciate,

the time that has allowed me
to be fully present for my child.

All right?

Removing an ocean that the emotional labor

required to raise
a child is a woman's work.

As a co-parent, Lila and I
have built snowmen,

we've played with acorns,

we've ??
I know you have too.

She sat with me while I've led workshops
at Columbia University,

when I talk about the intersections
of poetry, hip-hop and theater.

We get to talk about
her emotions and her feelings

because we have exclusive time together,

and that time is planned time,
it's organized around not just my schedule

but her mother's.

Both of us, as co-parents,

have unique parenting styles,

and we may argue at times,

but what we can always agree on

is how to raise a human,

our human.

I will never fully understand
or comprehend what it means

to hold a child in my body for 10 months.

I will never be able to understand

the trials and tribulations
of breastfeeding,

the work that it takes,

the emotional, physical,
psychological and emotional toll

that carrying a human
can have on the female body.

What co-parenting does is say,

we can create balance,

a more balanced home and work life
for everyone involved.

Co-parenting says that

while parenting may involve
sacrifices, yes,

the weight of that sacrifice
is not solely resting on one parent alone.

No matter your relational dynamic,

no matter how you identify
as a human being --

he, she, they, ?? --

co-parenting says we can create
space and equity,

better communication, empathy,
I hear you, I see you,

how can I show up for you
in ways that benefits our family?

My goal:

I want more fathers to embrace
co-parenting as a model

for a better tomorrow,
a better today for ourselves,

for our co-parenting partners,
for our families, for our community.

I want more fathers talking
about fatherhood openly,

candidly, honestly, lovingly, right?

I want more people to recognize
that black fathers in particular

are more than the court system,
more than child support

and more than what the media
might portray us to be.

(Applause)

Our role as fathers, our role as parents,

our value as parents,

is not dependent on the zeroes
at the ends of our checks

but the capacity within our hearts
to show up for our families,

for the people we love,
for our little ones.

Being a father is not only
a responsibility, it's an opportunity.

This is for ??,
this is for ??, ??, ??,

this is for ??,
this is for ??,

this is for all the black fathers who
were showing up on a day-to-day basis.

This is for Charles Lorenzo Daniels,
my father, who didn't the language

or the tools to show up
in the ways that he wanted to.

Thank you.

My name is Joel.

Hi ??, hi ??.

??

(Applause)