This post is taken from the weekly newsletter “Darons Daronnes” on parenting, sent every Wednesday at 6 p.m. To receive it, you can register for free here.
Last week, a reader wrote me a letter that grabbed me with its force. I transcribe a large part of it for you here. Camille:
“I am 46 years old and I live alone with my 10-year-old son. His father takes care of it every other weekend and on average a quarter of the school holidays. Two years ago, he went off on a tangent without planning joint custody. Today, I manage; running and burning out my years of life faster than average, but I manage. I even started a new job this year, which requires investment, an immense challenge in my modest career. It’s hard, but I needed it: too rich for CAF [Caisse d’allocations familiales], but not enough to go on vacation, I would like to travel with my son, show him things before I’m no longer there.
At the office, I strictly refrain from reporting my personal situation, and when it comes to scheduling, I call on anyone who is available to help me. I am lucky to have a family who is present and supportive for school outings and activities. Because the single mother with a son does not have good press in the company, no matter how modern and open it may be in its management processes. We’re also not going to stop scheduling meetings on Wednesday afternoons and leaving the office at 5:30 p.m., and then what!
In this new job, a lot of thirty-somethings, quite a few parents, or only recently. But the other day I heard about X, the manager that everyone adores. I feel he is special to the team, a discreet tilt of the head when we mention him. After three introductory sentences rolled in candy, someone looks at me to announce in a tone of connivance the secret of this incredible man: “He’s a dad all by himself.”
The honeyed tone of the sentence instantly makes me soar. I have no time to get over the fact that the carpet has been unfolded for “I had to take care of my daughter” [“je devais m’occuper de ma fille”].
Wait, what? A “single dad” who has a daughter! We can’t fight. I see the assembly covered in empathy for X, with wet eyes, we exchange knowing smiles about the modern heroism of this courageous and honest man. Because, yes, he takes care of his daughter “all alone”! What generosity, what altruism! The subtext is so powerful that I can almost hear it coming out of my colleagues’ brains: it must be hard for him anyway.
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