By Kamau Walkui

Senior Diaspora Times Correspondent.

As Father’s Day is celebrated, many will honour the men who raised and shaped their lives in countless ways. Yet, within the Kenyan diaspora a sobering question rears its ugly truth: Are Kenyan diaspora fathers truly celebrated or have they been reduced to glorified bill payers? Truth be said, behind the carefully curated social media posts and family portraits celebrating father’s day masks a painful reality: In much of Kenyan diaspora, the father’s role has been devalued and discarded at the altar of money, expectations and an unforgiving version of toxic feminism. Fatherhood has been reduced to a transactional role; an arrangement payable in bills, shopping lists and endless expectations. A majority of diaspora fathers quietly understand that they remain relevant only for as long as they can provide. Should age, illness or job loss rob him of that ability, his place in the family becomes irrelevant. Such fathers are then stripped of respect, dignity and voice in their own homes. They are no longer celebrated but merely tolerated.

Diaspora life traps men into a brutal paradox where cultural dissonance, relentless economic pressure, and alien social dynamics compound the already demanding role of fatherhood. Many Kenyan diaspora fathers are unfavorably measured against white ones, with little consideration for the vastly different cultural frameworks. They navigate systems where Black men are generally disproportionately disadvantaged, economically, socially, and institutionally. Despite these barriers, many rise every day to fulfil their role. Sadly, their reward back home is subtle humiliation and everyday tyranny.

More damaging still is where this cruelty is administered to the father in front of the children. When a father is only spoken of in terms of provision; when he is insulted, belittled or treated as disposable in his own home, the message to the children is unmistakable. This ruinously corrosive narrative erodes the child’s value for their father and by extension their understanding of fatherhood. Painfully many children raised in homes where the father is disrespected and degraded are wounded in invisible but devastating ways. They learn to equate fatherhood with failure, maleness with contempt, marriage with misery and family with chaos. Boys raised in such households risk growing into men likely to abandon fatherhood altogether or become passive, insecure, and emotionally absent fathers themselves. Daughters meanwhile risk growing up aggressively bitter and internalising the misguided belief that to be a strong woman is to dominate or treat men with cruelty; continuing the same calamitous cycle in the families they go on to start.

The risk is real that the Kenyan diaspora is raising a generation that does not know what a respected father looks like. Yes, unwittingly nurturing homes where love is conditional, honour is one-sided, and resentment is normalised. When the image of a good father is filtered through unrealistic expectations rooted in foreign models and biased narratives, Kenyan diaspora fathers can never truly “measure up.” Many are mocked for not being emotionally or romantically expressive “like white dads,” or belittled for clinging on to values that clash with Western ideals. What gets lost in this misguided comparison is the lived reality and quiet strength of many Kenyan fathers abroad; the men who work gruelling shifts, endure systemic discrimination yet fight bravely to keep their families afloat.

Celebrating fathers is not about denying the powerful and indispensable role of mothers. It is not a call for masculine supremacy. It is the informed understanding and recognition that resentful fathers bequeath neither a legacy nor blessing to their children. It is a reminder that fatherhood is more than material provision. It is about presence, guidance, emotional and generational strength. Celebrating fathers means honourably giving them space to prepare their children to face the world; to teach them resilience, discipline, responsibility, structure and the dignity of work. Yes, to challenge, guide, warn and protect their children. Because while mothers shield children from harm, fathers prepare them to face and survive it.

Today on Father’s day, the priceless gift a mother can give her children is to foster a culture where fathers are honoured not for what they give, but for who they are. Yes, the man who may not always express himself with polished emotions and words, but who loves unconditionally. The man who may not always show affection in textbook Western ways, but who would go without so his children’s need are met.

And to Kenyan diaspora mothers: your strength and power need not be measured by how small you make your children’s father look. If you do, you children are watching. And the version of fatherhood you plant in them will be the one they carry forward. To the often overlooked, humiliated and uncelebrated Kenyan diaspora father, be proud of your quiet sacrifices, your early morning or late night shifts and endurance. Take pride in the strength it takes to show up when your voice is silenced, your presence shrank and your efforts discounted. You are not just a bill payer. Yu are a dad. Refuse to feel or act like an inadequate victim. Your children’s legacy and future is linked to your fatherhood. No voice however loud or dominant can replace that.

A happy Father’s Day to the many Kenyan Diaspora fathers who give their all, not to be celebrated or recognised but because they are simply great dads.