NOTTHEDADA

I’ve had two Godmothers for as long as I can remember—well, almost. One of them, I didn’t even know about until I was a teenager. And I never really questioned why. My family has always had a way of keeping certain things unspoken, sometimes without any real reason. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe, like Shanika has said, others don’t overthink about things as much as I do. Maybe they just did it, and the reason came later 🤷🏾‍♂️. Or maybe my mom’s right—maybe people keep making me a Godfather because they know I’ll do right by the child if it ever comes to that. And since she’s someone who’s been through this and knows me well, I’ll take that answer too.

My first encounter with a Godmother was in Cinderella ✨. My mom introduced me to it, so it wasn’t just a fairy tale—it was a blueprint. It taught me what to look for, who would have my back, and how to recognize the ones who would show up, even in the eleventh hour. She showed me whose eyes to find when I felt overwhelmed, whose presence to trust when the clock struck midnight. And when I rewatched it years later with my Mom Mom, she was teaching me something too—without ever saying it outright. That I have nothing but angels surrounding me 👼🏾. That even if I didn’t always understand how or why people were placed in my life, there was a reason. And that when she became her own version of my Godmother, she made sure I had field agents on earth to watch over me.

At this point, I’ve been named Godfather (or honorary Godfather) to more than three kids, and honestly? I never really knew why. Not in an ungrateful way—just in a wait, how did I get here? kind of way 🤔. The Godfather assigned to me was never around, never showed me what it meant, so all I knew was that it felt like a quiet responsibility. Something unspoken. Something understood. You show up, you help, you love ❤️. But then, somewhere along the way, I found myself in a role I wasn’t sure I had chosen. Suddenly, I wasn’t just a Godfather—I was given a list of duties, expectations, even personality traits I never signed up for. It stopped feeling like an honor and started feeling like an obligation. And without much thought, I pulled away. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe I wasn’t sure how to navigate the shift. Maybe I should have asked more questions.

When I came out, the first thing my mom said was, “I’m still getting grandbabies, right?” And without hesitation, I said, “Of course! I still want them too.” At the time, I had no doubt. Coming out didn’t change my desire for kids—it just changed how I could have them. Back then, I figured the men I dated would want kids too. I was in high school; I didn’t overthink it. And my mom wasn’t expecting grandkids anytime soon—at least, I didn’t think she was.

But as I got older and started working with kids as a therapist, something shifted. I started seeing the world for what it was. The weight of it. The way it could swallow a person whole. And for the first time, I wondered—could I really bring a child into this? Could I raise them to love life, to believe in joy, knowing what I know? As a Black man, as someone who’s privileged but not without struggle, as someone riddled with anxiety and health risks—what exactly would I be passing down?

I grew up watching movies like Kindergarten Cop and Daddy Day Care, thinking fatherhood was this beautiful, chaotic adventure 🎥. And now, I’m sitting here trying to figure out how not to feel like a deadbeat dad to kids who aren’t even mine. Trying to understand my role in my own family. But maybe that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time—just showing up when I could, in the ways that mattered. Not always perfectly. Not always in the ways I wanted. But in the ways I was able. And maybe, even if life pulls us apart, that’s what will stick. Because when I think about my own Godmothers, I realize that’s exactly what they did. They just showed up.

Terrise was there nearly every day of my childhood. And Donna? She hasn’t missed a birthday or a holiday since she came into my life—except for the ones when I was across the country. And maybe that’s what it’s really about. Not the title, not the expectations, but the presence. The love. The memories that linger long after life moves on ❤️.

So to the kids I’ve been lucky enough to be a Godfather to—I hope you remember the times I was there. And if I can’t always be, I hope you celebrate the moments we had. I hope you carry my love with you, because I promise you, it’s real.

I love you all.

P.S. HAPPY 1ST BIRTHDAY, GERT!!! 🎈🎉🎂🎁

https://youtu.be/OQKZCWEnnvc?si=PsElwN1BQQe_eSiC