Philippe Morgese can pin-point a particular moment in his life as a single dad that he felt like he was doing an OK job – it was also the same moment he took his first steps on the road to becoming somewhat of an accidental guru in the world of father-daughter relationships.
Dropping his daughter, Emma, then a toddler, at pre-school in the mornings, Morgese was acutely aware that he was usually the only father at the nursery gates and felt an intense pressure for Emma to look the part.
“I felt like all eyes were on me. It’s a cliche that dads have no idea how to dress their children, and I didn’t want to pander to it. She needed to be well-dressed and her hair needed to be brushed because I didn’t want to feel that judgment,” he remembers.
“I had been in despair because of the tangles, but a hairdresser friend told me to brush and plait Emma’s hair before bed. After that, it became a joy in the morning, those minutes spent with a comb, and I got good – good enough for someone to say how cool her hair was and what an awesome dad I was for doing it.”
Morgese says Emma’s hair, and looking after it, has become a defining feature of their relationship. His need to deal with hair was borne out of necessity – he and Emma’s mother separated not long after she was born 10 years ago, and after some amicable to-ing and fro-ing, she went to live full-time with him in Daytona, Florida.
“I felt like I’d lost my purpose without her,” says Morgese. “I’d lost sense of who I was and who I wanted to be. I was desperate to be with her.”
Morgese gave up work, went back to college and launched a freelance career restoring and selling vintage electrical kit, working around looking after Emma. Thrust headlong into the hard work of caring for a baby full-time, alone, Morgese was initially flummoxed about Emma’s hair when it began to grow and assert itself. But from the first victory of keeping a hairclip in her baby locks – “hair mousse was my friend” – to learning how to detangle a mop of early morning toddler bed hair, Morgese’s time with a brush in his hand looking after his daughter’s hair has cemented a strong bond between them.
“It’s something we do together every night before bed and then in the morning,” he says. “It’s the perfect opportunity to connect, to talk about her day and to discuss her feelings. Her opinion matters. We talk about everything – what we’d do if we won the lottery, how cool it would be to have a basement with a ball pit and a slide, or whether to get smaller milk cartons because the big ones are too heavy for her to lift. It doesn’t matter really, it’s the involvement and staying connected which is important.”
Over the years, meatier issues also get dropped into the conversation. “We’ve had ‘the chats’ about periods, about boys, about grown-up stuff, many, many times, but they’re not a big deal. They’re just part of the fabric now. If you let children see that you’ll be ready to listen, they’ll want to bring you stuff to talk about,” he reasons.
After Morgese helped a just-separated male friend navigate the minefield of his daughters’ pre-teen long hair, he decided there were plenty of other men out there who wanted and needed help looking after their daughters in a practical, hands-on way. He told friends, found a venue – “A 6ft guy asking if he can borrow a salon to teach dads to braid hair got me some very funny looks,” – and ran the workshop.
“It was great. We had a carpenter, a prison guard, a cable installer and a mechanic, who was covered in oil so he had to really scrub up to do his girl’s hair. These were just ordinary dads, some single, some married, who wanted to be involved. By the end of the class they were able to do a braid, a bun, could detangle hair properly. And they’d all talked to each other and enjoyed being with their children,” he says.
He posted some pictures on social media, thinking nothing of it, but a couple of hours later there were hundreds of messages of support.
“There were dads asking how they could learn. But also women who’d got in touch to talk about their own relationship with their dads. Lots had grown up without a father figure, but lots told me that the best memories they had of their dad were when he brushed their hair.”
For Morgese, this is the crux of the matter – getting fathers to connect with their daughters early, and then at every stage of their lives. For him and Emma, her hair has been the perfect vehicle, but as he points out, they could be doing anything – bending spoons, taking apart one of the vintage stereos he reconditions, or baking cakes – it’s all about the uninterrupted, small, but routine chunks of time spent together. “For me, it’s not about the braid, it’s about the bond,” he shrugs. “Every botched hairdo is a celebration of time spent together.”
Morgese says his relationship with his own father is much closer now than it ever was when he was growing up, but he feels that dads – single or in partnerships – still don’t spend enough time with their children.
“Lots of children grow up without a father figure – either because they don’t have one, or because they’re too busy working or doing other things,” he says.
“I find that dads are still relying on women for the nuts and bolts of childcare – and that means they’re missing out on a relationship with their kids. That’s a shame, because it’s beneficial for everyone.”
“Fatherhood is evolving,” he says, adding that we’re culturally reinforced into gender roles every single day, something he’s keen to avoid for Emma. “It helps that I’m a single, involved dad. She can wire a plug, wash up, has learned how to problem-solve when the washing machine breaks down. It would take me three times longer to do the dishes with Emma when she was tiny, but I wanted her to be a part of that. It was time spent together and it was teaching her how life happens.
“We’re all guilty of ‘learned helplessness’ – when you rely on others to get stuff done. I want to show Emma how to be self-reliant.”
Morgese is convinced that the intimacy and trust involved in a task as mundane as looking after hair makes it perfect for dads to bond with their children. “Just look at the way women treasure the relationship they have with their hairdresser,” he laughs.
“I always show the men who come to my workshops how intimate – and sometimes intimidating – it is to have your hair done by standing behind them while explaining the importance of it. They get it pretty quickly!”
Quite apart from a newfound confidence with hair accessories and complicated plaits, Morgese has seen how much men can get out of the experience – just in an hour’s workshop. “It’s a safe space for them to get emotional and upset and voice their concerns and worries – the things that keep them awake at night. For a couple of hours, they’re with other men, but they’re not doing cliched ‘man’ activities like drinking or watching sport – and for some, that’s a novelty.”
He’s also convinced that the activity involved means there’s no direct eye contact, something that can really help conversation to flow – particularly with difficult subjects.
“They’ve got a handful of hair, a brush and an elastic – they’re concentrating on something. They’re talking peer-to-peer, as well as interacting with their daughters. It’s crucial for people going through hard times to be able to come somewhere safe, out of their normal remit. It might help them let things out.”
And he has seen how it can bolster confidence in parenting. “One guy told me that he shares custody of his daughter. Fridays were difficult because he knew he wasn’t going to see her until Monday afternoon. It’s tough for lots of separated parents – they try to be brave and strong, but their purpose has left them for the weekend, and maybe people think it’s weird, but most of us don’t want the weekend off. He’d dropped her at school and overheard her friends saying how wonderful it was that her dad could do her hair. He went off to cry somewhere and realised – just like I had, that time at nursery – that he was a good father.”
Emma is growing up fast. But has her hair future-proofed their relationship? Morgese thinks so. “If I’m honest, this probably means more to me than it does to Emma. I’ve asked myself what happens when she wants me to stop doing her hair. But it’s not the only way we connect, and hopefully what we’ve built is a long-lasting understanding between us. If you develop that early, a child will be more secure and maybe they’re going to know, during those vulnerable teenage years, what makes them happy and who and where they want to be.”
Ultimately, for Morgese, it’s about taking the opportunity to have a relationship with your child. “The confidence I see in her as a result of our relationship is amazing,” he says. “She owns her world and is secure in it. Ten years down the line, she’ll be a 20-year-old woman. It’s about cementing our bond so that when she leaves, she’ll want to come back.”
“It’s not exactly rocket science,” he laughs. “You can’t ignore your children for their first decade and then wonder why they don’t want anything to do with you.”
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