When Kenneth Howard’s girlfriend told him she was pregnant
and that he was the baby’s father, he didn’t believe it. He was only 15 at the
time.
“It was so difficult,” he says. “Me and her, all we did was
fight. We fought a lot, and I just had a hard time with it at first.”
For a while, he didn’t talk to anyone about the pregnancy.
He didn’t want to tell his friends. Finally, he told his grandmother, with whom
he lives. “She didn’t believe it, either,” he says. “We always joke around, you
know. She thought I was joking, but then I said, No, this is for real. I’m
going to be a dad.”
For most parents of teen daughters, few words conjure up
more raw emotion than “Mom, I’m having a baby.” But it’s just as hard when a
son or grandson comes home after school and says, “Lisa is having a baby, and
I’m the dad.” In the last decade, much has been learned about teen pregnancy
and “baby moms.” But what is known about boys who become fathers is often
sketchy and sometimes misunderstood.
For starters, teen pregnancy is a fact of American life.
Despite a decline in recent years, the US
still has the highest rate of teen pregnancy of any industrialized nation. More
than 500,000 teenage girls in the US
became pregnant in 2004. According to the Monroe County Health Department, in
2002 there were 838 births to local girls ages 10 to 19.
But getting an accurate figure for the number of teen
fathers is harder. The county’s records list only 245 teen dads during that
same period. That number — which comes from information on the babies’ birth
certificates — is obviously too low, according to the health department, but
by exactly how much is hard to say.
There are several reasons why information about the teen
fathers may not be on the birth certificates. The mother may not be sure who
the father is. Or she may not want the father in her life or her child’s. But
in a subtle way, the lack of accurate data reflects society’s general attitude toward
teen fathers: that they are not legitimate parents and decision makers.
From the beginning, most attention is directed to the
mother.
Rick Bartell has two
framed prints hanging on his office wall. One is of chili peppers, and the other
is of the history of birth control. The latter shows some familiar options,
like the pill and condoms. Less familiar and more than a little intimidating
are a metal object with a hook at one end and something that looks like thin
wire. Bartell is Planned Parenthood’s regional director of outreach and
education. He says health-care workers have been concerned with the sexual
health of teenage girls for years, but have recently turned their attention to
boys.
“Once girls begin menstruation or become sexually active,
they see a doctor and have regularly scheduled visits,” says Bartell. “The
assumption has always been that girls need education and prevention counseling.
But boys have sort of been forgotten.”
“Boys have no such schedule of doctor visits, and there is
no one who talks to them about their sexual health,” says Bartell. “We can’t
leave this for them to find out from friends or a coach. Even parents are not
always current on the range of STIs [sexually transmitted infections] out there
today, some of which have no cure. And one of the things we [Planned
Parenthood] do exceptionally well is preventive education. Young males need
this information as much as young girls.”
Bartell has been talking to teens about sexual reproduction
and pregnancy and disease prevention for most of his 20-year career, and he
says getting the message out can be difficult. “There are these two poles,” he
says. “One is the hyper-sexual marketing to youth. You see it on MTV: teens
with their bellybuttons showing, lots of makeup, lots of sexual suggestion, the
Brittney Spears thing.”
“On the opposite end is the din of ‘just say no’:
‘Abstinence is the only thing they need to know.’ But most of us exist in this
silent middle. The extremes are difficult messages for kids to absorb,” he
says.
If society takes a dim view of unintended teen pregnancy, it
takes an even more conservative position on what to say about prevention and
where to say it. More than in any other Western society, politics and religion
play a driving role in sex education, sometimes a larger one than science: how
it is taught in school, and what message young people will hear. For example,
messages about “safe sex” appear on TV and radio, but the ads aren’t very
creative, and there’s little content. Usually another step or two is involved:
“Call this number to get the facts.”
If you don’t know how to use a condom properly, it may not
help prevent pregnancy orinfection. “Medically factual and
developmentally appropriate information is key,” says Bartell. “Kids get a lot
of information without any context. If you give kids the facts, they are
remarkably good at understanding the message. If we’re serious about this, we
must give them the information that can protect them. The teen pregnancy rate
in the US is like
those found in third-world countries.”
Bartell flips through a stack of 3×5 cards from
presentations to 5th-grade classes, where students could write questions on the
cards anonymously. Some of the questions are predictable, but most illustrate
that the children’s level of curiosity is matched only by their level of
misinformation.
“What is oral sex?” asks one student. “What is cum?” asks
another. And one that really surprised Bartell: “Can Winterfresh gum prevent
pregnancy if inserted vaginally?”
“A lot of people think the conversation about sex for both
boys and girls begins at birth and ends at death,” says Bartell. “Others say it
is just plumbing and nothing more. No, it definitely is more.”
“We don’t really
prepare boys to become fathers,” says Lamar Powell, managing director of In
Control, one of more than a dozen local non-profits that provide health
education and medical care for teenagers. “Society has a tendency to raise
girls with the idea that someday they will become mothers,” says Powell, “but
we just assume that boys will know what it means to be a father when the time
comes. But what if this boy has no role models in his life? What then?”
In Control has a modest space for counseling and discussion
groups. The length of one wall is painted in a bold graphic of red and black
with the words “In Control” at one end. The organization got its start 10 years
ago, when Planned Parenthood and the Urban League received a state grant to
tackle teen pregnancy in the 14619, 14608, and 14611 zip codes. At the time,
the teen pregnancy rates in those neighborhoods were the highest in the state.
In Control is also one of the few local agencies with a
program for teenage boys. It offers help with housing, job training, and
guidance for teen fathers.
“The prevention messages are very important,” says Powell,
“and we always provide them with the facts. We teach them how to make a
decision. Believe it or not, a lot of these kids don’t know how to think for
themselves, and every decision you make has a consequence: ‘Are you ready for
that?'”
“But,” adds Powell, “I think one of the biggest reasons
these kids become fathers so early is that they have not had positive male
guidance in their lives on a consistentbasis.
The men that have come into their lives have been in and out or not there at
all. They could be living with their mother, and there is a big age difference
with the kid and his mother. Or it is just the opposite. He and his mother are
very close in age, more like brother and sister — she had him when she was still a child.”
Some of the boys Powell sees walk in off the street. But
most are referrals from the Rochester
school district, other agencies, Family Court, and probation officers.
The biggest misconception about teen fathers is that they
don’t want to be involved in their child’s life, says Powell. Often, he says,
they don’t want to run away from responsibility; they just want help stepping
up to the plate. “But there are so many hurdles for them,” he says. “And
they’re just kids — they get discouraged so easily.”
Creating a support system and staying in school are the two
biggest and most immediate needs, says Powell. Young fathers have serious
limitations. They may not be able to drive or own a car. If they have a job,
chances are it pays minimum wage. They usually have no parenting skills, so
they can’t tell if a baby is hungry or is sick and needs immediate medical
attention. If they are living with the baby’s mother, their ability to pay for
expenses and create stability for their young family is next to impossible
without outside help. The pressures to provide become overwhelming; to the
point that their first impulse is to quit school and find a job.
Says In Control’s coordinator and case manager, Darren
Evans: “We try to get them through the hardest part — that beginning
realization: ‘It’s not the end of the world. It’s already happened. We can’t
change that, so now here’s what were going to do.’ And they hear from other
young men in the group how they have dealt with it.”
In Evans’ current caseload, he sees about 20 teen males that
are either at risk or are already fathers. He coaches them through about 18
months of programs. “We want them to get that GED. Stay in school, stay on
track,” he says. “Because once they get a taste of work and get the feel of
earning a paycheck, they may quit and just keep working. But it won’t be
enough, not without some kind of education.”
There’s nothing new about teenagers becoming parents, says
Powell: “It has been going on for years. It happens in every socio-economic
group. It doesn’t matter; black, white, rich neighborhoods, poor neighborhoods.
It happens in Pittsford and it happens in Albion.”
“The difference is that in the ’50s and ’60s, a young man
could go to Kodak or Xerox and get a decent paying job right out of high
school,” says Powell. “That paycheck would be enough to start a small family.
That’s not an option today.”
Powell says it concerns him that young people begin having
sex so much earlier than his generation did, because it initiates a cycle of
poverty. His comment mirrors a report by the Annie E. Casey Foundation, which
said that the government’s cost of unintended teen pregnancy, for public
assistance and child health care, is about $7 billion annually. Foster care
adds another billion. Nearly 80 percent of all teen mothers go on welfare. And
more than 40 percent of teen mothers who give birth before graduating from high
school are unlikely to get a GED, making poverty for them and their children
almost inevitable.
The report also indicated that teen parents face very
different circumstances than they did 30 or 40 years ago. At that time,
marriage was viewed as the single most important goal for creating financial
and emotional stability, essentials for raising children. By the mid-’80s, the
norm had changed. Even TV’s Murphy Brown was a single mom.
Malcom Gordy Kargi
has spent some of this summer with his sister in Penfield. For the last
three years, he had one goal: keeping his grade point average at 3.9. He was
hoping to go to Johns Hopkins or TempleUniversity, where he could study
pre-med and later specialize in sports medicine. But Kargi’s dream may need to
wait a little longer. Last year, at age 17, he became a father.
“I had to take a job at a small hardware store near where I
live,” he says. “I took an incomplete in chemistry, because I didn’t want a C
or D. But I had to help out, and I started falling asleep in some of my
classes.”
Kargi lives in Philadelphia
with his mother and younger brother. His girlfriend lives in a suburb about 20
minutes outside of the city. They had been seeing each other for about a year.
He says they used protection every time they had sex except once.
“I thought we should get married,” he says, “but Alicia’s
mom was not okay with that. She’s still not okay with any of this, and it makes
it harder. Last month was my son Jacob’s first birthday. I asked if we could
move it to the following day, because I had to work that day and I wouldn’t be
able to get there. She said, No, we can’t move his first birthday. So I missed
it. I wasn’t there.”
He and Alicia have not been getting along well, either.
About three months ago, she told him she was dating someone else. He says her
family is well off, and he is relieved that his son has all that he needs. “I
would come in the door with some formula and some diapers,” he says, “and her
mother would walk in with a $350 stroller. I mean, I’m glad she can do it for
him and all, but it bothers me. She acts like she’s his mother and I am some kind of thug. I told her, I am his father, and I am going to be there for him.”
Kargi was nervous about what he might find upon returning
home to Philadelphia. He said he
needed some time alone to think about his future. “I’m going to finish school,
and I’m going to go to college,” he says. “If I can get through school, I can
afford to take care of my son.” He pauses and rubs his forehead. He has light
skin and a bushy auburn afro. He looks like a model out of an Abercrombie &
Finch ad.
“My sister says I would be a fool to marry her,” he says. “I
don’t know…. I even thought of joining the Navy.”
Teen father Kenneth
Howard just got his GED and is going to MCC in the fall. And he has a plan:
the MCC 2+2 Program, where he will complete half of his degree and then finish at
Alfred in business. He’s at that age when boys first start to resemble men. He
has a trace of facial hair, and his shoulders have begun to broaden. He is
polite and soft spoken. His baby daughter, Zhaanyshia, just turned 3. He’s 18.
And he credits In Control’s Darren Evans for his progress.
“My grandmother helped me a lot,” he says. “She taught me how to take care of
the baby. But Darren here, he kept me focused. I might not have finished my GED
if it weren’t for him. It has gotten a lot better. I see things differently. I
care about stuff now. I want good things for her, and I realize for that to
happen I have to be a good person, too.”
Asked if he would change things if he could, his answer was
immediate and firm: “Never. Watching her and seeing her smile is the best thing
in the world to me. I wouldn’t change that for anything.”
Howard doesn’t have custody of his child; Zhaanyshia lives
with her mother. He says the only advice he has for someone who finds himself
in his situation is to stay the course. “Darren is always saying that to me,”
he says. “See things through to the end. How something starts out doesn’t mean
that’s the way it has to be, so see it through. Don’t quit.”
Seeing Howard and his counselor work together demonstrates
how important support is to these new fathers. Some, like Howard, are just kids
faced with making some serious adult decisions, such as seeking custody.
“One of the first things we talk about is, What kind of a
relationship do you want to have with this girl?” says Evans. “This is the
mother of your child. That is never going to change. You have to respect that
and respect her for the sake of that child. If you want to be in that child’s
life, you better establish a positive relationship with her. That takes time
and trust. You got to realize she is dealing with this, too.”
The relationship that teen fathers create with the mother of
their child is critical for many reasons, but the most important is visitation
rights. Many of the young parents start out as couples, but the odds of staying
together are against them.
“I have one young couple that I see,” says Evans, “and
they’ve been together for a little while now. But most decide that they can’t
be together as a couple, and that’s very hard on both of them. Reality can be
rough, man. But I impress upon them that they got to be together as friends for
the sake of that child.”
Among many things
teen fathers need is court advocacy, says Todd Williams, executive director
of the Rochester Fatherhood Resource Initiative. “They are going to need to
know their rights,” he says. “This is all new to them, and they don’t know what
they’re in for when they go to Family Court.”
It’s around 5 o’clock
in the afternoon, and several young men have gathered in the Rochester
Fatherhood’s main conference room. A row of worn-looking black and beige
computers covers the length of one wall. The men use them for creating resumes
and applying for jobs. They each have war stories to share about Family Court,
and they firmly believe that “the system” favors granting custody to the
mother, regardless of her qualifications as a parent.
“If we want that boy to be involved in his child’s life, we
have to start at the beginning,” says Williams. “You go into a pediatrician’s
office and all you see are pictures of women, mothers, and their babies. But no
fathers. The message is, ‘You don’t belong here. You’re not included.’ Well, if
we want that young male to be involved in his kid’s life, we have to change the
message.”
“Every day all we hear about are the dead-beat dads, but
that’s a few knuckleheads that don’t want to take care of their kids,” says
Williams. “That’s not a whole group of people. Don’t judge us all that way;
treat us as individuals. Treat us as fathers, not outsiders.” he says.
Kamayu Robinson, one of the young fathers in Williams’
group, recently received custody of his three children. He admits that his
story is unusual. “My wife went to court and said that I was the better parent.
That’s what she told the judge. But that’s a rarity,” he says.
“They should put more money into mediation, and take the
attorneys out of it,” says Robinson. “Put less into litigation. How can you
have respect for one another, and how can your children learn respect for both
parents? If I had to fight for my kids, it could have taken years, and I would
have had to tell every dirty little detail to that court about the mother of my
children so I can get custody. How can a man respect himself after that? How can
your children respect what you did to their mother?”
Teen fathers sometimes have it a little easier in Family
Court than the older men, says Williams. “They come with less baggage, and they
are more receptive to making changes in their lives,” he says. “Sometimes the
older men have other issues. They may have a new wife and a whole other family
to be concerned about.”
Jerome Barnes is
wearing a green butcher-style apron that is part of the dress code at the
bank where he works. He has stopped by Rochester Fatherhood, where he
volunteers as a cook for the agency’s socials when he can. He was a teen
father, and he knows what many of the young men are up against.
“I wasn’t planning a family,” he says. “I knew about
protection, but I never used any. At that time in my life, I didn’t think I was
going to live, because everyone around me was getting killed. I thought I was
gonna die, too. And I didn’t want to leave this world without leaving behind
something that was a part of me.”
Barnes is now married to the mother of his children, but he
spent a few years playing around. He describes his mother and father as
alcoholics, and he says he never saw much of his father growing up.
“I was a dog, man, I’m gonna be truthful with you. Then one
day I slowed down, and I realized I am doing the same thing my father did to
me. And I said, No way. That is not going to happen to my kids. I want my kids
to have hope for a better future. When you don’t have hope, you do some stupid
things with your life. I just want to be the best father I can be for my
children.”
Barnes is trying to obtain custody of one of his children
from another relationship. “I’ve been going to court to get custody of my kid
for five years,” he says. “Fiveyears. I even had a judge say to me
once, You must like coming here for the free legal services. I just looked at
him. I pay my attorney. I was angry, but you see what I mean?”
Resources for teen
fathers are in short supply. Non-profit agencies like In Control and the
Rochester Fatherhood Resource Initiative have managed to survive in a climate
of dwindling financial support. Fatherhood programs seem to start up one year
and lose funding the next. This makes it hard for other agencies to refer
people to them.
“There’s a serious need for this type of program,” says
Melissa Woods, transitional-living program manager for The Center for Youth,
which works with runaway and homeless teens. “But when you go to refer someone,
you find out they aren’t there any more. We see far more young girls that are
or are about to become mothers. They will come inside and follow through on the
services. The boys will most likely stay out on the street.”
“We have eight apartments that we fully finance for youth
that are in crisis,” says Woods. “Three are for parenting teens, and even if it
happened to be a single father with his baby, we would still include that young
man and his baby.”
Pat Johnson, The Center’s coordinator for runaway and
homeless services, says she agrees with both Williams and Powell. “These young
males do want to be good fathers, and
they will make the life decisions they need to make to share responsibility for
their child,” she says. “They will choose a job that they might not otherwise
want to pursue, like the military, so they can get the benefits. So they can
provide food, shelter, and clothing.”
The Rochester
school district has also recognized the need to support fathers and help them
develop parenting skills. Davis Passmore, coordinator for the district’s
Fatherhood Initiative and LeadershipAcademy,
presents workshops throughout the year for fathers of all ages, including
teens. The emphasis is on the importance of fathers being involved in their
child’s education.
When that happens, “that child is going to do better in
school,” says Passmore. “Even if the mother and father are not living together,
they must come together for the sake of that child’s future.”
Poverty and teen pregnancy are intertwined and cyclical,
says Passmore. “We have to start with one generation, and break it,” he says.
This article appears in Jul 20-26, 2005.
