One of the most recurring themes in our novels so far has been death of/with fathers at the end. I am a father of four, all adopted – three white, one primarily Filipino and Thai. Two of which, have died. I have almost known death a few times and my two surviving children are well aware of this fact.

In relation to my project’s definition of home (where you feel you belong), being a father has a social and cultural expectations – some of which I meet willingly and some I don’t.

First, I want to briefly describe each father from each novel.

When the Emperor Was Divine (Otsuka) – The nameless father was very warm, inviting, and empathetic to his children. He was a source of comfort and love. He seemed very aware of American culture and how to navigate American life.

His death seemed to be returning from his camp. He wasn’t the same force of strength his children used to consider him as. He was weaker, aloof, and uncertain. One finds out at the end he may have admitted to crimes he did not commit because he was defiant – not a personality known to the kids.

Donald Duk (Chin) – King Duk was a straightforward man who showed his love through both strictness and compassion. Having traveled around, he seems to know how to navigate American culture but refuses to assimilate in a way white people like for his sense of self – understandably so.

His relation with death is when he burned the air planes the family spent their time making. He believed in the Mandate of Heaven: how people, dynasties, times, cultures – everything – rises and falls.

Forgotten Country (Chung) – This father seemed to have been inconstant, though not capricious – sometimes warm, sometimes cold. He was a smart man who strongly held onto what he believed in. Though he cared deeply for his family, sometimes his actions may make the reader question his actions.

As the father nears his death, the reader can see how this impacted the family. Usually quiet and kept to themselves and lived their lives separately (as they grew older), there was an unspoken closeness that defined itself. As their father became weaker and less comprehensible, the family was made to realize his presence as a bond.

Dark Blue Suit (Bacho) – Buddy’s father clearly loves him – blood money, silent suffering, choosing him over his other half siblings. This father makes readers recognize where the line between redeemable and irredeemable acts of selfishness and maybe even evil lie. He was a family man (to his main family) and protected him the best he knew how. However, sometimes we learn things out of necessity that we may  not necessarily want our progeny to know as well.

His death was just one of the many ways Buddy had to come of age. Mixed in with other deaths that changed who Buddy was as a person, he was still chosen as the beginning and the end of the novel, much like the other three. As he grew up, we see him come very far from the naive, obedient five year old son walking with his father to a bar. His father’s death could be interpreted as a full circle.

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All these novels are media. They are representation and because each novel is written by someone part of the culture, the realness of the fathers aren’t either good or bad. They’re honest. Cultures written by someone outside are based on stereotypes and at best, thorough research and unknown bias from stereotypes they don’t understand personally.

This index by tvtropes has a lot of parent related archetypes, stereotypes, and clichés.

When I first started as a parent, I wanted to have equal input with my kids but more authority. A lot of things I saw in consumable media was me supposed to be strict, stern, and unmoving. I wasn’t because I didn’t think it was right.

Now I am because I know it’s what’s effective and what helps maintain our boundaries. But had I been this way because I saw it, would my kids be where they are now? What if I had given up and done easier things because sitcoms showed me thats what we should expect? I have enough cognition to know that consumable media doesn’t apply to me because I’m not the standard human (read quirky middle aged white dad who is vaguely racist but it’s ok because I’m funny and doing my best).

And I also think alot about the fact I consistently say, “[Child] did [stupid shit] so I beat their ass.” I’ve never laid a hand on any child except once and it was self-defense. Culturally, especially with other APIA, we know what it means. I definitely did something stern and taught them a lesson they soon won’t forget without hitting them. But I say I hit them and they know I didn’t. But they know what I mean.

But also, I’m a single father. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing besides my very best. Consciously and unconsciously, what am I pulling from media that isn’t genuinely “mine”? How often did I side eye someone my daughter has brought home, though I trust her entirely, and wondered if they were bad for her? Was that the part of me that knows you can’t know someone completely? Was that a lot of watching trashy romcoms? Both? Neither?

Many of the parents in the novels we have read, to some degree, assimilated utilizing the society and culture around them. Be it wearing status symbols or adopting mannerisms they have no need to develop, they become part of the culture for many reasons. To feel like they belong, to deter any danger, etc.

So the question is:

What makes a dad a dad?