I vividly remember the moment I realized, as a Millennial, that hating your father was the thing to do. Surrounded by a group of female peers claiming to hate their dads, I suddenly questioned the severity of any of my complaints toward my own. Hate was embraced. Victimhood was a means of bonding, even when no abuse was suffered.
I’ve often looked back and wondered if it’s biological to reach a certain age and reject a certain parent, justly or unjustly. For me, that moment among my female friends was a call to compassion. I’ve grown to understand my parents more and am closer to both of them, especially now that I’m a parent myself.
I vividly remember the moment I realized, as a Millennial, that hating your father was the thing to do. Surrounded by a group of female peers claiming to hate their dads, I suddenly questioned the severity of any of my complaints toward my own. Hate was embraced. Victimhood was a means of bonding, even when no abuse was suffered.
I’ve often looked back and wondered if it’s biological to reach a certain age and reject a certain parent, justly or unjustly. For me, that moment among my female friends was a call to compassion. I’ve grown to understand my parents more and am closer to both of them, especially now that I’m a parent myself.