Dear LinkedIn Dad,
When I scrolled past your LinkedIn headline, proudly announcing your “dad” status, I paused. It’s possible that, depending on how many hours of sleep I got the night before, I may have snorted, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Let me be clear: I think it’s great that you’re a dad, and I can appreciate that you’re proud of it. My moment of skepticism is more about what it means to be able to say, proudly, that you’re a parent in a forum where you’re also supposed to be a worker. I don’t know what that’s like.
When I returned to work in 2020, just four short weeks after an emergency C-section, delirious from lack of sleep, on two different antibiotics for post-op infections and mastitis (and maybe peeing my pants a little bit, in the literal sense?), I immediately felt conspicuous.
This was not just because there was, quite possibly, spit-up in my hair during most Zoom calls.
Unlike my male colleagues, who flashed wallet-size newborn photos and talked about how fatherhood had made them better, more empathetic, and well-rounded, I was suddenly an object of concern.
Instead of asking, “Is that a family name?” or “Who does he look like?” it was more like:
“Do you think you’ll keep working?”
“You know, there’s always an option to go part-time.”
“Does your husband help out?”
Every one of these felt like an indictment. I was on notice that, if I let anyone know that, yes, balancing all of this is really hard, I’d be confirming their suspicion that mothers couldn’t prioritize their careers. It was immediately obvious that I needed to be not only as good as I was before but better.
Any mistakes I made would be proof that I—all moms—wasn’t up to the task. When I announced I’d earned a new title, the tepid congratulations would come mixed with “You know, the kids are only little for such a short while. There’ll be time for all that later.” I wonder, LinkedIn Dad, what they say to you when you get a promotion? Does anyone question if you will be able to balance four-year-old ballet recitals with your new consulting gig / executive coaching startup? I’m guessing no.
LinkedIn Dad, do you ever hide your status as a parent at work? Because I do, even as it continually announces itself via calls from daycare during the work day or the pacifier that fell out of my laptop bag at my annual review (timing!).
But unlike my coworkers who are dads, when I prioritize my children, I am considered unreliable and lacking focus. If a pacifier fell out of your bag in the middle of a meeting, people would think that was adorable, wouldn’t they? Would they laugh because how funny, a grown man with a pacifier?
Or would they start planning a reorganization where a twenty-five-year-old named Bradford whose dad plays racquetball with your boss is suddenly your new supervisor?
“Bradford here comes to us from Eighthoursofsleep.io! He majored in accounting and lives in NYC with his dog and fiancée. Give Bradford a warm welcome, everyone!”
Look, we all know that a man stepping away from the office to care for his kids is a novelty. How nice of him to help his wife. He must be very caring and selfless. He’s modern, evolved, and committed to equity. I think when you highlighted your “dad” status, you were maybe basking in this glow, whether you admit it to yourself or not. Lead gen visionary, servant leader, dad. Hell yeah, now that’s got the juice.
When I am needed at home during work hours, there is no such fanfare, only questions like “But didn’t your son just have norovirus?”
LinkedIn Dad, dads are celebrated for work while also parenting on the side. We call it “hustle” and listen to their TED Talks about how they spent the early years of their kids’ lives grinding and building an empire. We do this as they tiptoe over the eternally low bar for what dads need to contribute at home. I want to ask them, “Who was watching your children while you were out changing the world?” but I think I probably know.
Listen, my intention here is not to declare you my enemy but rather to make you aware of the considerable differences in parenting experiences at work (I’ll be honest, my guy, I don’t know how much you’ve thought about it)—and to encourage you to build a team where being a mom is considered a strength because, well, it is.
Despite my organization and time-management skills absolutely skyrocketing since my first child was born (out of necessity, I can now prepare a press release and a bottle simultaneously), men are more often executive decision makers in the office. I’m wondering, what would it look like if being a “dad” at work was more about ensuring your coworkers have adequate parental leave and enough sick and vacation time to appropriately care for themselves and their children?
What if being a “dad” at work meant being conscious enough to avoid scheduling networking opportunities after hours and on weekends or, at the very least, balancing these with similar options during the work day? Can we imagine a workplace where we consider childcare, breastfeeding, and other parenting needs when planning travel? In fact, can we stop assuming that every worker has a stay-at-home fairy godmother (notice we never hear about godfathers in this context) and work backward from there?
Could you speak up when you hear the “dog whistles” about commitment, focus, and motherhood? Can you ask yourself what it would take for, not just your kids, but everyone in your office’s kids to have present parents whose brains aren’t constantly marinating in cortisol? Can you, at the very minimum, ask yourself if you are delegating a task to your wife, mom, coworker, or other adjacent woman because it really is her job or because you just think it shouldn’t be yours?
LinkedIn Dad, I think you can do this. I’ve given you a to-do list, which I’m told is necessary for dads to understand what needs done around the house (and, I guess, the world).
If you do, I promise I won’t roll my eyes at your LinkedIn headline anymore. If we succeed at this thing, I may even add “mom” to mine.
Best,
Lauren