changing the image of black fatherhood
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Fences Reminds Me That Loving My Son Means Rejecting Fatherhood
“Your firstborn son gots to be a junior,” my barber ordered. In the weeks before my son’s birth, the person who regularly gave me a razor lining insisted that I bestow my full name on my child. Nodding men in the shop unanimously agreed. “Man, you’ve got a great name,” he added, meaning that I…

