To My Estranged Husband — and Every Man Still Trying to Be Worthy

This isn’t a eulogy. It’s a reckoning. It’s not about rescuing men from consequence… it’s about calling them back to their own hearts, and calling the rest of us to stop accepting crumbs and calling it care.

To my estranged husband: I was going to drag your ass this year. I had the material. But instead, I tapped into the love we once shared and the children we made. And from that place of memory and truth, I’m choosing to write this. Not to coddle, not to forget, but to remember. To remember the man I once loved, the father my children deserved, and the bitter ache of what was lost when the weight of provision crushed us all.

Father’s Day has been coming like a slow burn. I could’ve lit the match, aired the pain, and left it smoldering. I’ve had the receipts, the rage, the righteous grief. Because what we went through? What we are going through? It broke something sacred.

And I’m choosing to speak to the version of you that wants to heal… even if he’s buried beneath shame, addiction, and generational wounds.

So here it is:

I invite you; and all men who are listening, to do the fucking work.

To show up. To parent your children. To unbecome the version of masculinity that was handed to you like a curse.

Because the truth is: patriarchy harms you too.

It told you your only worth was in what you could earn, conquer, or endure.

It told you that your body wasn’t yours unless it was breaking.

It praised you for sacrificing your softness and condemned you when the weight broke your spirit.

It never taught you how to love, only how to provide.

Not how to rest, but how to hustle.

Not how to be held, but how to fight to the death for crumbs in a rigged economy.

This system was never made for you to thrive, just to survive.

And the survival it promised was survival alone.

The Myth of Provision and the Weapon of Patriarchy

Patriarchy told you your only worth was what you earned. So when the system made earning impossible, you thought it meant you were worthless. But you were never meant to be a machine. You were meant to be held. To dance. To cry. To show up in the messy middle and still be seen as whole.

But a system that only values productivity will never make space for your wholeness. So you tried to make yourself disappear, through work, through alcohol, through silence. And we lost you. We lost a father to a myth. We lost a man to the lie that love must be proven through labor. And the rest of us (especially the children) were left to rebuild with ghosts.

What I want to say (really what what I need to say) is that you are still a man.

Even if you can’t afford everything.

Even if you’re not winning the game.

Even if you’ve fallen short.

You are still worthy of love, of softness, of healing.

You are still needed… by your children, by your community, by yourself.

But worth is not a pass.

Accountability is the gateway to liberation.

To the Men Who Are Trying

To the fathers who are showing up (imperfectly, messily, vulnerably) we see you. Not for what you provide, but for who you are. For the effort. For the calls you take even when you’re tired. For the quiet breakfasts. For the therapy sessions. For showing up when your father never did.

And to those who are not:

this isn’t about shame. But it is about responsibility. Becoming the father you never had is revolutionary. And it starts now. Not next year. Not once you have the money. Now.

So to the men doing the work, keep going. We see you.

To the ones avoiding the mirror (like my husband) your time is coming. 🌬️ We will not coddle you, but we will make room for you if you choose to grow.

And to the ones refusing, hurting others without remorse, hiding behind shame or silence…this is your warning: the village is done making excuses.

This Father’s Day, I’m not holding space for patriarchs.

I’m holding space for fathers.

And not just biological ones, but the men who are re-fathering themselves, reclaiming softness, and resisting the lie that love is earned only through suffering.

More Than Money: Redefining Provision

Provision is not just money. It is care. It is kindness. It is presence. It is emotional literacy. It is good sex and deep listening and community accountability. It is playing with your kids, and showing up for your partner, and building a world where we no longer have to scream just to be heard.

You don’t have to die to be a ghost. Show up while you’re still here.

Language as Liberation

We are living in a time when words are weapons, but they can also be tools for liberation. And one of the most radical things we can do is tell the truth about how language upholds patriarchy, and how love must be redefined outside capitalism.

We were told men were “providers.” That their worth was measured by how much they brought home. That love was expressed through sacrifice. That parenting was mother’s work, and fatherhood was optional, contingent on income.

All of it: lies. Lies told to keep us disconnected. Lies told to make you believe your presence was a luxury, not a necessity.

This Father’s Day, I’m Not Holding Back.

So again, to my estranged husband, Marcus Anthony Stephens currently of Habersham county GA: I was going to drag you this year. Instead…I dared to remember who we were. And I’m asking you now: be the man your children still whisper about in hope.

Do the fucking work.

You are still their father.

You are still here.

It is not too late to return to fatherhood, But the invitation has an expiration date…because these children deserve more than memories.

Reflection Prompt for the Community:

If you were taught that love must be earned, what would it take to unlearn that?

What does provision mean to you now? What could it mean?

Who taught you what masculinity was, and what would your body say if you asked it now?

And to all of us still healing:

May your grief become your boundary.

May your love become your revolution.

And may you be the last generation to wonder if you’re lovable without labor.

Patriarchy will have you buried before you ever bloom.

Resist.

Heal.

Father anyway.

Reflection Prompt:

What version of manhood are you willing to release so you can be the father, partner, or ancestor your lineage needs?

In love and reflection,

Desireé B Stephens