An excerpt from Essence 2009 -
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Veteran Journalist Ed Gordon: Daddy's Little Girl
I always wanted a child. But, like many men, when I dreamed of becoming a father I dreamed of having a boy, a "little man" to follow in my footsteps. I wanted a son who would make me the proudest father in the gym after he hit the game-winning basket and then gave me a wink as he took the arm of the finest girl in the school. Yes, I fell victim to this all-too-common male fantasy. It never occurred to me that I might have a little girl.
When I found out that my wife, Karen, was pregnant, I was elated and ready to take on the task of fatherhood. There was one snag: The ultrasound showed that the blessing would be delivered in pink, not blue. I told my brother, who was already a father to a daughter, that another girl was on the way. He said, "You're about to experience a love that is unmatched, a special unconditional love." He assured me I'd get over my macho desire for a boy. I took his assurance, but I couldn't help wondering why I had never dreamed of having a daughter.
Certainly I've always thought little girls are just as important as boys. I abhorred the practice in some societies of selling or killing infant girls because they weren't considered to be as valuable as boys, who might grow up to help support their families. But I started to wonder if, unknowingly, I might have absorbed the idea of girls as second-class citizens. Well, if I did, I was about to get an education.
Taylor Nicole Gordon, now 12, has brought an immeasurable joy to my life, and no little hardheaded boy could ever take her place. Since the day she was born, I have not once lamented the fact that I didn't have the next Michael Jordan or Colin Powell. In fact, I've embraced the idea that I may have the next Serena Williams or Condoleezza Rice.
I admit I might be more interested in taking a boy to football practice than I am in dropping Taylor off at her dance class. But I am just as sure that I couldn't have been more pleased the day she nailed a dance routine she'd been having trouble with. Just hours before her recital, we'd been in the basement as she tried, frustratingly, to master the routine, and I guaranteed her she could climb this mountain. That night my pride swelled as I watched my daughter onstage hit every move. I knew that my chest wouldn't have been any higher if she had just run an 80-yard touchdown.
http://www.essence.com/2009/03/24/veteran-journalist-ed-gordon-daddys-litt
http://www.essence.com/2016/06/06/ed-gordon-essay-daddys-still-got-you?xid=20160612
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