For decades, Black fathers have shouldered the burden of negative stereotypes. The pervasive notion that Black dads are uninvolved in the lives of their children persists. This despite contradictory research, such as the 2013 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) study which found that of all fathers, Black dads are the most involved on average.
Kelly Wimbley, 55, a computer engineer and father of two adult sons – Kafele, 25, and Jabari, 22, – is the epitome of the CDC’s conclusions. Wembley, whose father exited his life at the age of five, purposely set out to discover the tenets of responsible fatherhood.
He recalled, as a high schooler, expressing the lack of a father in his life when his mother complimented him, insisting he’d make “a really great dad,” someday.
“I said ‘well, I don’t know about that,” Wimbley remembered, adding: “I know how to be a great mom,’ because she was a great mom. But I always felt like there was something in me my mom didn’t understand.”
To fill the void, he set out to find out what fatherhood should look like, be like, feel like. So, he studied Black fathers in his neighborhood, at barber shops, in schools, in church and other places.
“I didn’t know when I’d have children, but I thought, ‘if I do, I’d like to have some ideas,’” Wimbley explained. “So, I observed men who looked like they knew what they were doing. I started asking questions like when a man would say, ‘My children do what I say,’ I’d ask ‘well, why? Is it out of fear or respect?’’
Wimbley said he also studied men from Asia, East and West Africa and other cultures.
“Basically, I watched men who looked like they knew what respect was,” he said.
Wimbley and his two older brothers were born in Centreville, Ill.,which he still unabashedly calls “East St. Louis.” He attended Bishop DuBourg High School for his freshman and sophomore years, then graduated from Roosevelt High School. He attended Southeast Missouri State University where he majored in computer science.
A college level course on world religion at Bishop DuBourg, put Wimbley on a course of spirituality, self-discovery and self-consciousness.
“I learned about Buddhism, Daoism, Jainism, Confucianism … a whole bunch of isms,” Wimbley recalled, laughing. “It opened my mind to the point where I started visiting different churches and discussing religion with people of different faiths.”
Kelly said he came of age during the 80s, “the Cosby and ‘Different World’ decade.”
“Oh, man, that was my era,” he said. “That whole consciousness thing was happening. People wearing braids and dreads and locs again. Yeah, some were into that gangsta/thug stuff but, at that time, people wanted to carry a bookbag just to look intelligent … they wanted to look like they knew something.”
After graduating high school, Wimbley and his brothers drove a pickup truck from St. Louis to New York City, Buffalo, Washington D.C. and eventually Canada. Not only did his quest to answer the riddles of Black fatherhood continue, but his worldview also expanded. He was exposed to the teachings of the Nation of Islam and was fascinated with the “rebirth of the Black Panthers.” Wimbley started studying “energy work” like “Kahuna,” an ancient Hawaiian healing art as well as other holistic wellness traditions. In his early 20s, he was under the tutelage of a renowned Jamaican acupuncturist who taught him the science of treating people with drug addictions through acupuncture.
By 1999, the time his eldest boy, Kafele, was born, Wimbley felt he was prepared to play the essential father-role in his son’s lives. He proudly recalled how, as a “healer” he helped deliver both his sons.
“Mine were the first hands that touched them,” he boasted.
At the time, he and his former wife operated a hairstyling/acupuncturing shop on the south side of the city. Wanting their boys to have a good, disciplined education, the couple homeschooled the boys until they and other homeschoolers got together and established a charter school, Ptah Academy of Arts and Sciences, in early 2000s.
“I needed them to be at a school where their A-level work was real A-level work,” Wimbley stressed. While attending Bishop DuBourg, he said he was a “C-B student” who started getting straight A’s when he was transferred to Roosevelt.
“The stuff wasn’t challenging,” Wimbley admitted, to underscore he and his wife’s commitment to put Kafele and Jabari on a more progressive educational track.
After Ptah Academy closed, the boys were enrolled into City Garden Montessori School and later, Crossroads College Prep where they graduated.
Wimbley said he employed all the valuable fatherhood lessons he’d learned from his “elders” in his boy’s lives.
“I wanted them to have a good sense of self,’’ he said. “I wanted them to have what I didn’t. I wanted them to have a good sense of who they were and who they were spiritually. I wanted them to have a high sense of morality.”
Adhering to the lessons of his elders, Wimbley said he was able to follow the boy’s “expressions” or interests and let them guide his efforts in supporting them.
“They were showing me what they wanted to express,” he explained. “It was like whatever they gravitated toward … if they’re running and jumping all over the place; that’s track & field. If they were drawing on walls with crayons; that’s art class. If they wanted to fight everybody all the time; that was boxing or martial arts.”
His sons are out on their own, doing their own thing. Kafele graduated with a degree in software engineering and computational mathematics. Jabari, who studied international business and fashion merchandising, is pursuing a career in the arts.
Insisting that he and his sons are still extremely “tight,” Wimbley said they talk or text each other several times a week.
The CDC’s 2013 study found that the majority of Black dads — about 2.5 million of around 4.2 million — not only live with their children but the percentages of their involvement in their lives are higher than that of Hispanic or white fathers.
Wimbley doesn’t consider himself a myth-buster. After all, he never bought into the notion that Black fathers are uninvolved in their children’s lives. It never matched the reality he had researched in Black neighborhoods.
“Most of us are (involved),” Wimbley stressed. “But because we don’t control the narrative, we’re just not getting good press.”
Sylvester Brown Jr. is the Deaconess Foundation Community Advocacy Fellow.
