Young blond boy wearing a yellow t-shirt and with sunscreen on his left cheek with his dad on the beach

Who is Father’s Day For?

This isn’t a rhetorical question or one with a simple answer. We all know who it is for. Your dad, right? But who is it actually for? Every year I see the same thing: Father’s Day is for the oil covered car enthusiast or the footy mad bloke; the beer swiller, or power tool user; Grill master or couch napper. 

Every year I see Father’s Day marketed around a very singular idea of what a dad is, I don’t think that is fair. When I was planning out this blog, I started to think about all the ways my dad is completely unique. In many ways, he fits the mold of the above “stereotypical” dad. But he is so much more than that. He is unashamedly vulnerable when he needs to be, adores learning new things or hobbies if it means he can have a lengthy conversation with someone he cares for about something they care about, and will listen intently rather than talk at you, offering advice only when it is requested. 

Father’s aren’t one dimensional, so why is Father’s Day only marketed to us as a one dimensional day, almost a novelty. 

What are we celebrating? 

I am grateful for all of the fun things about me I inherited from my dad. I’m not just talking about the amazing vinyl collection that I stole when I was 16. My fascination with the past and trying to absorb information about the weirdest and annoyingly unnecessary things; my faux hipster taste in music has been thoroughly developed from road trips spent listening to Triple J when I was too young to know what music even really was; my passion for supporting teams that everyone else seems to hate; hell, even the fact that I am writing this blog is his fault, as he made a career out of writing. 

A younger, brunette man embracing an older, white haired man at a table in front of a white wall

I also inherited some of his less fun attributes, such as weak knees, lungs and chin (although thankfully I was able to buck the genetic trend to become the first bloke in the family to grow a beard to hide this last one), and I wasn’t able to steal his attention to detail and fastidiousness. 

This is what Father’s Day is for, giving back to the fathers in our life who we stole the best of us from, whatever that may be from whomever that may be. 

So why then, every year, the catalogues arrive and ads air and it feels like we're all buying gifts for the same bloke. Here's another BBQ accessory. Another stubby holder. Another multi-tool. Another pair of novelty socks with beer bottles on them.

If that's your dad, brilliant. Lean into it. Buy him the thing he'll genuinely love. My own dad loves a good power tool every so often!

But not every father figure in our lives fits into that neat little box. Some dads would rather spend Saturday morning wandering through an art gallery than Bunnings. Some would choose a second-hand bookshop over a sports bar every day of the week. Some taught us how to cook instead of how to kick a football. Some taught us patience. Others taught us curiosity. Others taught us that it's okay to be vulnerable.

The point isn't that one version is better than another.

It's that they're all fathers.

The Dads who gave us more than just love and security growing up, but were part of the foundational elements of what makes us who we are today. 

And that's where I think Father's Day becomes much bigger than biology.

Some people celebrate the dad who conceived them. Others celebrate a stepdad who stepped up to the role. Some celebrate a grandfather who became their biggest influence. An uncle who always showed up. A neighbour who became family. A teacher, a coach, or a mentor who happened to arrive at exactly the right time in life.

I know plenty of people who were raised by extraordinary single mums and choose to celebrate them on Father's Day as well, not because they're trying to redefine the day, but because they know who filled that role when it mattered. Others get to celebrate multiple dads on the one day.

Fatherhood isn't a DNA test. It's showing up. It's consistency. It's teaching someone who they can become.

A baby's hand being held by a larger hand

Which is probably why we think Father's Day celebrations deserve a little more thought too.

Not because the presents you give themselves are the most important part - they aren't.

But because a thoughtful gift says, I know who you are.

Not just that you're a dad.

That you're my dad.

The bloke who introduced me to great music. Or terrible football teams. Or good coffee. Or books. Or camping. Or cooking. Or whatever little pieces of himself he accidentally left behind in me.

Whether that's a skincare routine you'll actually use, a bottle of something special, lunch together or simply a phone call, the best Father's Day gifts are the ones that recognise the person, not the stereotype.

So who is Father's Day for?

It's for the people who helped build us.

The people whose quirks became our quirks. Whose interests became our interests. Who shaped us in ways we probably won't fully appreciate until we're much older.

Sometimes that's your dad.

Sometimes it isn't.

But whoever it is, they're probably worth more than another "World's Best Dad" mug chosen five minutes before the shops close.

Celebrate the person, not the stereotype.

We think that's a much better place to start.

And if you're still trying to figure out what to buy, don't stress too much. The best gifts aren't always the biggest or the most expensive, they're the ones that show you've paid attention.

If one of our Father's Day gift sets happens to help you do that, we'd be honoured to be part of the day.

by Joe Maher for David Maher

 

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