“WHEN I discovered that my wife had been killed, I found my daughter and two sons and we left immediately”, Marcus [not his real name] explained to me as we sat in the blistering sun on broken, plastic chairs. Behind us was his rectangular, one-room house made of mud. Because doors are hard to come by, a blue curtain was hanging in the doorway in order to provide some privacy and respite from the heat. Inside, the room was divided in two by a white piece of fabric separating the sleeping area from the everything-else area. At the moment, Marcus’s three children were fetching water from the borehole to bathe before dinner while Marcus recounted how he came to be both a single father and a refugee in a matter of minutes. [Click here for more information about Marcus]
MARCUS recounted some of his background to me the first time that I met him in January 2015. He went on in detail about his challenges that stem from being a refugee and a single father – two things he never expected to be in his life. He talked about how men and women ridicule him when he undertakes “women’s work”, how he feels forgotten by aid agencies, and how he struggles to provide for his children. It was this specific conversation that triggered my interest in single fatherhood in refugee contexts.
I have a background in gender theory, including several courses at the graduate level, experience in a women’s shelter, and an internship in the Gender Equality Unit of a major UN agency, but I had little knowledge of the specific challenges and capacities of single fathers in situations of displacement. For me, it was quickly evident that a gender framework provided a useful lens for analyzing the challenges that Marcus is facing. However, I could not recall having read even one academic study that mentioned single fathers, let alone explored the nuances of their lives. After several thorough searches through online academic databases I realized that refugee single fathers are generally overlooked by researchers.
On a more practical level, there are several humanitarian organizations aimed at assisting the displaced population in Kyaka II, including the UNHCR, Finnish Refugee Council, Danish Refugee Council, Samaritan’s Purse, and Africa Humanitarian Action. But I quickly noticed that single fathers are generally overlooked there as much as they are in academia; men are unjustly assumed to be able providers, even in situations of displacement. This is most likely because gender stereotypes of men as “breadwinner”, “provider”, and “protector” are widespread. These gendered expectations influence our beliefs and actions, including the way humanitarian aid is distributed. [For a detailed study that explores masculinity norms among Congolese click here]. Indeed, “single father” is not an interest group discussed frequently by humanitarian organizations.
On the other hand, single mothers in Kyaka II tend to receive some form of assistance, whether it is increased food rations, cash, or scholarly support for their children. This assistance is absolutely necessary and makes households headed by single mothers more likely to make ends meet – to provide food, clothes, school fees, and the ability to seek medical attention when needed. Humanitarian organizations are therefore aware that single parent homes are often in need of a little extra boost in situations of displacement simply because they are lacking the extra set of hands and income that a partner would bring. However, based on my experience in Kyaka II, single fathers are not afforded the same attention and are overlooked to the point that they are rendered invisible. I see this as an injustice and a flaw in the humanitarian system.
TO be honest, as a self-described feminist I have struggled with presenting my research pertaining to single fatherhood – it is often perceived to be “anti-feminist”. Especially when I present my arguments within a gender framework. Once, after explaining my research to a group of people, one person retorted: “you are not a TRUE feminist if you stick up for men!” Whoa… this could not be further from the truth. I deeply believe that single fatherhood – and the gender-specific vulnerabilities that come along with it – is indeed a feminist issue. Feminism, regardless of which brand of feminism you adhere to, is generally aimed at reaching gender equality by dismantling patriarchy. Patriarchy, as a system, has grave effects on the lives of women, but also for men that fail to fulfill masculine norms which is often the case among single fathers who have to cross the very rigid gender division of labor that categorizes most of our societies. [For an insightful analysis of men, masculinities, and humanitarian aid click here]. Gender norms have major implications in every aspect of our lives, including what jobs we do, how we parent, and how society perceives us, and analytically exploring these implications increases our understanding of gender and power relations and can thus ultimately further the feminist agenda.
Now this is not to say that single fathers are victims of patriarchy to the extent that women are. Absolutely not. I recognize that all men, simply by being men, are capable of wielding power. However, for humanitarians in refugee settings, the goal is to assist the displaced population as efficiently as possible. To do this it is necessary to have at least a vague understanding of the vulnerabilities and capacities of individuals, and currently there are very few empirical studies that examine men’s vulnerabilities – and even less so for single fathers specifically – in a useful way. And since humanitarian organizations are increasingly including men and boys in their gender equality initiatives, there is a specific need for empirical research that examines the vulnerabilities of men in different contexts. My research seeks to fill this gap.
SO it was with these ideas in mind that in January 2016 I returned to the settlement for a third time to carry out 4 weeks of field research for my master’s thesis. My research was qualitative and anthropological in nature and centered on semi-structured interviews. I asked the single fathers questions about their daily lives, their challenges and coping strategies, and also about their happiest moments and the joys of fatherhood. I interviewed key humanitarian actors, government officials, and the children of single fathers too. During the 4 weeks I lived in the settlement and took extensive notes based on my observations and interactions. Lastly, I passed around a disposable camera and encouraged the single fathers to take photographs that would help me understand what it’s like to be a single father in Kyaka II. The photographs that they took showed me aspects of their lives that I could have never witnessed without spending days living in their homes and examining their every move. Several of these photographs will be included in my blog posts.
In June 2016, after months spent trying to make sense out of the data and several long meetings with my advisor, the brilliant and very patient Dr. Fenneke Reysoo, I finally submitted my thesis, all 105 pages of it, to my university. My thesis draws heavily on theories of masculinities, especially the work of Raewyn Connell and Michael Kaufman and aims at explaining the challenges and coping strategies of refugee single fathers through a gender framework. I also criticize the way that humanitarian aid generally excludes single fathers, which I argue is rooted in unrealistic gender stereotypes. While I am satisfied with my analysis, which won the Global Migration Prize from my university, I recognize that it is only a first step towards an understanding of the vulnerabilities and capacities of households headed by single men in refugee contexts, and I may have actually raised more questions than I answered. More academic research desperately needs to be done in this field in order for humanitarian aid to be distributed in the most efficient manner and for single fathers to receive the recognition that they deserve.
IN contrast to my thesis, this blog is intended to show a different side of my research – a side focused less on an academic-style analysis and more on the personal backgrounds and stories of the single fathers themselves (with their permission). It is intended to shine light on the lives of single fathers and give a voice to them (to the extent that I am able to by recounting our discussions). Their stories deserve to be heard by more than just myself, my thesis advisor, and the handful of people who will read my thesis.
During our interviews, these 27 men shared snapshots of their life stories with me. They shared tales of unending sadness, often involving abuse, torture, and the loss of family members. Many of them became single fathers because their wives died from an illness or because they were killed. They also shared their challenges that arise from living in a refugee settlement including the oppressive poverty and lack of opportunities. However, perhaps more importantly, they also shared stories of happiness often centering on their children and former wives. They recounted memorable family celebrations, business successes, and other small joys that everyone can relate to. Their narratives varied widely, but one thing each of the single fathers has in common is their perseverance and dedication to their children. I am sure that by reading their stories and looking at their photographs you will agree.
Therefore, I hope the posts that I am going to share will be enlightening. I hope they show a side of single fatherhood and life as a refugee that resonates with you. If you are moved by a story, please do share it among your personal contacts and consider making a donation to the single fathers on the GoFundMe account that I have set up. Thank you.
Single Fathers 