Back over the holidays, I had a few days to disconnect from work to relax and spend some time with my family. Despite the ridiculously cold weather that hit us the weekend of Christmas, it was an enjoyable time off. Like many, I used some of the down time to catch up on television shows that I was behind on and watch predictable Christmas movies on Hallmark, Lifetime, and Freeform.
I was most excited, however, to check out The Best Man: Final Chapters series that dropped on Peacock.
When I list my favorite movies of all time, The Best Man is always at or near the top. I vividly remember having the original movie on VHS and watching it on repeat over and over with my roommate during college. It was one of those films that you’d just put in the VCR (yes, VCR in the early 2000s) if you didn’t have anything else to watch.
For my money, The Best Man is the crown jewel of the late 90s early 2000s era of black romcoms featuring up-and-coming black actors at the time who would go on to have very successful careers. The original, along with the 2013 sequel, The Best Man Holiday, showcased young, successful black people who were thriving in their careers, relationships, and friendships. Sure, they all had their issues and problems to deal with, but in the end, their love for each other sustained friendships that would last for years. It was relatable to me, in part because I could identify with a lot of the things the characters were experiencing as they navigated through life in their 20s.
As I watched the new episodic series, I felt satisfied with the progression of the story and how the writers had developed the characters to where they were in present-day life.
One of the major storylines that unfolded was the sexuality of LJ, the son of Lance Sullivan and his late wife, Mia. LJ was nonbinary, meaning he understood his gender in a way that went beyond identifying solely as a man or woman. Lance struggled with the reality that his eldest son might not follow in his footsteps and be the football star that he was. It was hard for him to even fathom the thought that he, long known for his reputation with the ladies, would have a son that lived an “alternative” lifestyle. This was evident in Lance’s refusal to use LJ’s preferred pronouns and his unwillingness to let his son wear the clothes in which he felt the most comfortable in.
Watching it in real time was cringy. However, it’s easy to sit on the progressive couch and criticize Lance for not being accepting of his son’s choices. How could he not know the proper pronouns for someone who is nonbinary? How could he not support his son’s lifestyle? As a dad, isn’t he supposed to support his son no matter what?
The reality is, I can’t honestly say that if my son or daughter got older and chose a path I wasn’t educated on, that I would immediately be totally on board. Many of us are quick to say we support something “different” until it’s our child. There’s a natural resistance to the unknown and uncomfortable. This was evident in Lance’s original prayer to “change my son.”
The beauty of fatherhood is that we never stop learning and we should never stop evolving. There will be situations that will pop up in our journey that we are not prepared for. Conversly, there will be things we think we would be equipped to handle, only to be thrown off course when real life happens. How will we respond? How will we deal with it?
It took a scary sequence where LJ went missing for Lance to ultimately realize that it was him who needed to change. It took the hours where he didn’t know whether his son was alive, to finalize step back and listen.
As dads, we spend so much time trying to guide and direct our kids to make sure they’re making the right decisions in life. We’ve been there, done that, and are only passing on the knowledge that was share with us. That’s what good dads do. Good dads must also realize that there will be times when we’ll be the ones who’ll need to get taught.
Some good self-reflection here. We set ourselves up for some of this, don't we, with all of the hoopla surrounding gender reveal parties, the drama of sifting through family names trying to find the perfect fit for our child, and other silly things, like jostling for influence over which teams our children might root for (I feel this deeply as a lifelong Nebraska fan who married into a Penn State family and now lives in Happy Valley). I'm not quite sure what the alternative is to the naming business. We are right to take it seriously and to pass on family names, and it shouldn't be a trifling matter to give that all up. At the same time, our hopes and dreams of our kids shouldn't be rigid or oppressive. Exactly right: "Good dads must also realize that there will be times when we’ll be the ones who’ll need to get taught."