Just Say “Happy Father’s Day”

Op-ed by Kenneth Braswell, CEO, Fathers Incorporated

I want to start by saying this is my opinion. After 20-plus years of working in the responsible fatherhood space, walking with men through their joys and their struggles, and sitting in the weight of what father absence really means (not just in homes but in hearts), I’ve earned the right to speak on this with conviction.

So, here it is: Just say “Happy Father’s Day.”

Not “Happy Father’s Day to all the amazing uncles.” Not “Happy Father’s Day to all the moms doing double duty.” Not “Happy Father’s Day to coaches, mentors, big brothers, or strong women who step up.”

Just say it. “Happy. Father’s. Day.”

That’s it. No asterisk. No parentheses. No add-ons.

And yet every year when Father’s Day comes around, we dilute this simple gesture like it needs justification, like the word “father” can’t stand on its own. And trust me, I know some of you reading this might think I’m being overly sensitive. Maybe I am. But maybe I’m also right.

This year, the realization hit me again while reviewing some draft social media posts from a new team member. She was trying to find the right words, and every draft came back with something like, “Happy Father’s Day to all the amazing dads, stepdads, uncles, mentors, and…” I finally stopped and requested, “Just say, ‘Happy Father’s Day.’ Period.”

You see, we don’t do this with Mother’s Day. We don’t say, “Happy Mother’s Day to all the caregivers, aunties, neighbors, and men who fill the gap.” We don’t feel obligated to include anyone else in our mother’s celebrations. And we shouldn’t, because Mother’s Day is sacred and singular in its intent. It is designed to honor mothers.

Father’s Day should be no different.

Let’s talk about origins. Father’s Day was established to celebrate one man — a father, William Smart — by his daughter, Sonora Smart Dodd, who wanted to honor his presence and parenting. She didn’t create the holiday for all father-like figures. She created it to celebrate her father. The man who showed up.

The same simplicity applies to birthdays. When we say, “Happy Birthday,” we don’t say, “Happy Birthday to everyone born on this day plus those who wish they were.” When we say “Merry Christmas,” we don’t say, “Merry Christmas to all the Christians and the people who just love gift-giving.” We don’t add disclaimers to any of these celebrations.

But Father’s Day? We can’t seem to let it be.

And I get it. Some of you feel that because your dad wasn’t there, because you were raised by someone else or because Father’s Day brings up pain. And that pain deserves space, but not by erasing or crowding the spotlight of those who are doing the work. We need both: space for healing and space for honoring.

What’s more, this isn’t just about one day a year. This language and these subtle choices show up in our programming, our schools, and our institutions. I’ve seen flyers for Daddy-Daughter Dances that read: “Open to all fathers, uncles, male mentors, coaches, and caring men.” And again, I ask: why? Why are we afraid to let fathers have this moment?

The response is often the same: “We don’t want children without fathers to feel bad.”

Let me tell you something: If a child is grieving an absent father, they’re already feeling bad. A flyer didn’t cause that. Ignoring or erasing fathers on a technicality won’t heal it, either.

And let me also say this: There is no such thing as a fatherless child. 

Every child has a father. Biologically, that’s not up for debate. What’s up for debate is presence. What’s up for debate is accountability. What’s up for debate is support and access. But existence? That’s not up for debate.

When we choose to speak as if a child doesn’t have a father, we teach them to erase him. We teach them to internalize a wound they don’t know how to name. We perpetuate a narrative that says, “You must’ve done something wrong,” or worse, “You’re better off without him.” None of htat helps a child process absence in healthy ways.

We need to stop making assumptions about fathers.

Just because you haven’t seen a dad at pickup doesn’t mean he’s not showing up elsewhere. Just because he isn’t at the PTA meeting doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Ask. Engage. Seek understanding. Because when we erase the father, we rob the child of their full story. We rob the child of the potential for reconciliation, for learning where they come from, for imagining a more complete version of themselves.

I’m not here to defend men who have hurt or harmed. But I am here to defend the idea that fatherhood, when done right, is worthy of celebration. 

We need to be careful with how we frame this. Let’s not shame children who do have fathers by forcing them to tuck that joy away so others don’t feel excluded. Let’s not make a boy afraid to be proud of his dad. Let’s not raise girls to believe that male love is unreliable by default. Let’s tell fuller stories. Let’s be intentional.

If you truly care about equity, healing, and community, then that includes fathers. Because children need all the love, not just the conveniently accepted kind.

And yes, I could be biased. I’ve spent two decades of my life building systems, stories, and support for fathers. I’ve been in rooms where tears turn into transformation. I’ve mentored dads who are ready to quit but stay instead. I’ve helped birth movements out of quiet pain.

And even from that place, I still say this with clarity and love: Put some respect on our holiday. As Rick Ross said, “Put some respect on my name.”

We don’t need caveats. We don’t need disclaimers. And we certainly don’t need to be made to feel like celebrating fatherhood is a controversial act.

So NEXT year — and every year — please, just say it:

Happy Father’s Day.

That’s enough. Because fathers, as imperfect and evolving as we are, are enough.