Name: Eric Sarjeant City: Charlotte NC Instagram: @ehakimofficial
What does being a father mean to you?
Fatherhood means showing up every day, even when it’s uncomfortable, inconvenient, or uncelebrated.
It means being a protector and a provider, not just financially, but emotionally and mentally. Creating safety. Creating stability. Being the calm in the chaos.
Fatherhood means leading by example, modeling integrity, accountability, respect, and resilience so your children learn who they are by watching how you move through the world.
It’s about patience over pride, listening before correcting, and choosing guidance instead of control. Understanding that discipline is teaching, not punishing.
Fatherhood means putting ego aside and doing the work to heal yourself so your children don’t inherit your unaddressed wounds.
It’s being present for the small moments as much as the big ones, bedtime routines, conversations in the car, showing interest in what matters to them, even when you’re tired.
At the core fatherhood is about consistency, responsibility, and trust.
Describe your experience with your father growing up and how that impacted you today.
My father was largely absent throughout my childhood and emotionally dismissive when he was present. Significant moments, including my graduations, were met with neglect rather than support. After being forced out of his home following my college graduation, I chose to move forward without a relationship, a decision that brought clarity and stability to my life.
What things/tools/gems did you take from your experience growing up into your Fatherhood journey today?
Growing up without a consistent or supportive father taught me what not to be, and that became one of my greatest tools. I learned the importance of presence being there not just physically, but emotionally. I don’t wait for milestones to show up; I show up every day.
I also learned empathy and patience. Experiencing neglect made me more aware of how deeply words and actions impact a child, so I’m intentional about how I speak, listen, and respond. I understand that encouragement can shape confidence just as easily as criticism can damage it.
Another gem I carry into fatherhood is accountability. I took responsibility for healing my own wounds so they wouldn’t be passed down. I believe fatherhood is about breaking cycles, creating safety, and leading with consistency and love.
Ultimately, my upbringing gave me clarity. I may not have had the example I needed, but it gave me the resolve to become the father I once needed myself.
Have you had any obstacles on your fatherhood journey? If so, explain.
Yes. Managing a child with eczema, raising fraternal twins, job loss during pregnancy, and chronic sleep deprivation from a 5 a.m. work schedule were major obstacles. Those experiences strengthened my resilience and commitment to being a consistent, present father.
What advice would you give other Fathers on their journey?
My advice to other fathers is to stay present, especially when it’s hard. Your children don’t need perfection, they need consistency. Take care of your mental and emotional health so you don’t pass unresolved pain down to them.
Don’t let pride stop you from asking for help, and don’t measure your worth only by providing financially. Being emotionally available, listening, and showing up every day matter just as much.
Most importantly, remember that you have the power to break cycles. Even if you didn’t have the example growing up, you can become the father you once needed.
If you could write a quick letter to your father, starting with “Dear Father,” what would you say?
Dear Father,
I was bullied growing up, and I learned early that no one was coming to save me. I had to fight my own battles, hide my fear, and become strong before I was ready. I learned how to lie to survive, how to steal when resources were scarce, and how to move through the world without trusting anyone.
My mother did everything she could, but there were nights she simply couldn’t provide. I did my homework by candlelight, learning responsibility and resilience long before childhood should have ended. Survival wasn’t a phase for me, it was a way of life.
That kind of upbringing came at a cost. I hurt people, especially women. I hurt myself. I confused strength with silence and independence with isolation. I carried pain without knowing how to ask for help.
Your absence didn’t break me, but it forced me to grow up alone. I don’t carry these memories as excuses, but as lessons. I’ve done the work to unlearn survival and replace it with presence, honesty, and consistency.
I became the father I once needed. That is the legacy I’m building.
—Eric
