Senior year, state championship, last run of my high school career. My heart won’t slow down.
I’ve got this! Coach says my chance of breaking the state record is high.
“On your mark! Set!” The gun. “GO!”
Lead runner’s three strides ahead … five … my legs are burning … eight. You’ve got to be kidding me! There’s the finish line. Don’t let up, don’t stop … no matter what.
I lost … I lost?! How could this have happened?! I lost by a lot … to a boy. This isn’t fair.
I can’t believe no one said or did a thing to stop this—not the coach, not my teammates’ fathers, not even my own dad. Everyone in the stands is cheering like this is normal.
Oh great, he’s walking this way. Don’t cry, Kiera. Don’t you dare let him see you cry. He doesn’t deserve to see that! Just keep walking.
While this tale may be fictional, stories like Kiera’s are all too real. All you have to do is go down the rabbit hole of a Google search and you’ll find stories like those of Chelsea Mitchell, Brooke Slusser, Adaleia Cross, and so many others.
Where are the men?
Like Kiera, over the last two years, I’ve been asking myself, “Where are the men? Where are the fathers? Where are the protectors? Why has it become OK to stay silent, to allow our kids to lose and suffer just to ‘be nice’ and ‘not offend anyone’?”
We allow school districts to tell us they know better when it comes to our children, only to deceive us about them—encouraging their gender confusion; “socially transitioning” them in secret while at school; and teaching them that being sexually active at any age is perfectly fine. Medical services likewise tell us that our rights as parents take a back seat to ideology. And on and on it goes. Yet so few fathers are willing to stand in the gap. So few men are rising up to protect the powerless.
I know it’s far easier to cross your fingers and hope these things won’t happen to your kids. I get it. I was just like you: working hard, doing my best to love my family, trying to be a “good” man and “just get along.” I went to church and did all the “normal” things. In my home, I would complain to my wife about what was happening “out there” in “those places,” and in the same breath I would say, “I’m sure glad that stuff doesn’t happen here in our community.” I was willingly naive, asleep, choosing comfort over courage. But then, the unthinkable happened.
The school I had entrusted with my daughter’s well-being went behind my back and began to secretly “socially transition” her, treating her as a boy and lying to her about who she really is—all while hiding it from my wife and me. School staff even altered her school records so we wouldn’t find out.
It was at that moment that I woke up. After talking with school officials, I was convinced they would not stop, so my wife and I pulled our daughter from the school and began homeschooling her. That was a turning point for me and for my family. I love my daughter, and I would do anything to help her. And I walked with her as she struggled with her mental health and identity. Thankfully, she is doing better now. But watching her struggle convinced me that I had to do something more to stop this from happening to another family. How could I look the next struggling father in the face and say that I protected my family but not others, that I stayed quiet and let the school policy hurt another girl?
Thankfully, courage is contagious. I’ve taken a stand, and others are as well.
Another father, Joe Wailes, was contacted by his 11-year-old daughter while she was on a school-sponsored overnight field trip. Unbeknownst to him and his wife, pursuant to school policy, hotel room assignments were made based on “gender identity” rather than sex. His daughter was assigned to share a room—and was supposed to share a bed—with a boy who identified as a girl. After hiding in the bathroom to call her father for help, Joe’s daughter was ultimately able to get a different room with another girl. But this never should have happened in the first place. The school should have told the Waileses ahead of time and given them a chance to make other sleeping arrangements for their daughter. Joe’s family and several others are now bravely challenging the school district’s policy in court to ensure this can’t happen to other children.
I know that if this were to happen to my daughter, I wouldn’t be able to stand by and remain silent. I would have to say something. What about you?
Be a man of courage
Men, we were meant to be strong and courageous and to defend those who can’t defend themselves. We were not created to be silent bystanders who sit on their hands while school policies hurt girls, while girls like my daughter are pushed to identify as boys, while female athletes lose their rightful place on podiums, or while young girls are forced to share locker rooms and other intimate spaces with boys. We were designed to provide, to protect, and to be a voice for those who can’t or won’t speak up for themselves.
Yes, taking a stand can be lonely. The truth is, there just aren’t that many of us doing it (yet). But don’t let that stop you.
Whatever you didn’t do—or should have said—before this moment no longer matters. Now is the time to take action. To speak up for our families and kids. It won’t be easy. You may have to take risks, make sacrifices, and step far outside your comfort zone, but I believe that you were made for such a time as this.
You can start right now. It’s never too late to take a stand and defend not only your family and your children, but others as well—some of whom may not have a father to watch out for them.
So, men, I urge you: stand for truth. Stand for what is right and just. Defend the weak and the fatherless. Let your strength be the voice of courage as you fulfill your duty to protect the powerless. Take meaningful action like showing up to school board meetings and informing others about what is happening in your community. But above all, be involved in your children’s lives. Know them. Talk to them. And love them like only a father can.
Let this Father’s Day serve as an important reminder: you are precisely what our culture—and our families—need at this pivotal moment in time.
