Every time I make public something about my children, I have a little emotional wrestling match.
Should I be doing this? Why? Why not? Is it causing any harm? Might it, somewhere down the line?
I post about my kids often on my Instagram account, but that’s set to private and generally only meant for friends and family. I also try not to overpost about them, nor do I post anything too intimate.
But this here newsletter is what I wrestle with most.
Because my kids are still very young and have no concept yet of what the Internet is, let alone a Substack newsletter. So there’s no way for them to know that they are at the center of a very public monologue. They have no idea that I’m regularly sharing some of our family’s intimacies with my subscribers. Most importantly, considering all of that, they have no ability to consent to my doing any of this.
Am I doing wrong by them? Maybe. I don’t know. Am I staying on the safe side of the line I walk each time I sit down to write a new volume? I think so. I certainly try to. But I could be wrong. Are they going to look back at these newsletters someday, resentful that I shared so much of their lives so publicly? Possibly.
You may have seen this recent story in the Washington Post about new laws being passed to protect children from overeager parents hoping to make a buck or a few million off of their kids via social media.
I read it, thinking how good it was that people are taking measures to protect kids from exploitation. I read it again wondering to what degree I was guilty of exploiting my kids.
I read it again and again, wondering, as I always do, how close to that line I veer with this newsletter.
If anything, I came away with more questions then answers. One of those questions was the same one I ask myself every time I write a volume of Being a Dad is Hard as F*ck.
“Why am I doing this?”
And the reason is quite simple. I’m doing this because there is not enough earnest conversation around fatherhood in the world.
I’m doing it because men are culturally disallowed from expressing our feelings and our fears. I’m doing it to do my very small part in normalizing honest, earnest, and heartfelt conversation about fatherhood. I’m doing it because I’ve always been an overtly emotional guy who wears his heart on his sleeve.
Considering as much, I try to center myself in these stories as best I can. I try to constantly remind myself that this is a place to tell my stories. Not theirs.
Which is why, if you haven’t noticed, I never use my children’s names here, nor do I post their images. You may not have realized that if you know me or them personally. Perhaps your brain has filled in the blanks for the last fifty-six volumes. Or maybe you have noticed and wondered why.
I’m not trying to be Mysterio over here and I’m under no delusion that my choice to not disclose my kids’ names here is protecting them in any way. But it is a little line that I’ve drawn in the sand, one to help remind me who this series is for and who this series is about.
It’s an easy thing to contend with now, with a relatively small subscriber base of just a few thousand (a few hundred of whom I know personally). But there was one part of that Washington Post story I kept coming back to.
“Koehler emphasized that the legislation was not aimed at “grandmas sending Facebook pictures” but rather at parents who build businesses off their children’s images or overshare to an extreme degree in hopes of amassing large online followings,” it read.
Being a Dad is Hard is F*ck is a labor of love, hardly a business. And so, this person Koehler is describing isn't me. But it could be. All it takes is a single viral post or the commitment to continue to build this audience over time.
I haven't made a single cent from this newsletter nor will I anytime in the foreseeable future (barring aforementioned virality). But readership is growing steadily with each passing week and maybe someday I will. Maybe someday, I’ll launch a paid version of this newsletter. Maybe someday it'll be turned into a book-length project. And maybe that imaginary book will be optioned as an imaginary movie. Maybe. And how will I wrestle with that money that has been generated off the backs of the stories of my kids, who have not consented to my writing this newsletter? I don't know. I'm not sure. How might I try to protect them when even more eyes are on the little everydays of their everydays? I have no idea. Maybe I’ll stop doing it entirely.
I'll continue to consider this and maybe someday I'll decide the intangible good this newsletter might be doing for dads out there doesn’t outweigh the wellbeing of my children. Because, if I’ve learned anything in my short time as a dad, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, more important than that.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the matter! I also wrestle with what I want to share about my kids on Substack. If I do mention them it's typically to share an insight I've gained through them about myself. I have no intention of pimping out my kids to make money. But I do like to share the lessons they have taught me.
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