How the women in my life have made me a better father

Sibusiso was raised by a single mother who worked as a nurse in Johannesburg South. She carried the household on her shoulders but still made time for expressions of love.

"She was always tired," he says, "but still somehow was able to do the little things that really matter like spending time with me to check my homework and make my lunch in the morning while I struggled to get out of bed.” 

Now a father of two daughters, Sibusiso tries to follow her example. He helps with homework, makes dinner on weekends and checks in with his girls before bed.

"I don’t always get it right," he admits, "but I try to show up the way my mother did. That’s where fatherhood begins for me."

A quiet kind of leadership

In Makhanda, Luzuko grew up without parents. His older sister became his guardian when he was just 15. She was 22 at the time, still figuring out life, but she never complained.

"She worked a retail job and cooked supper every night," he remembers. “She never raised her voice. She just stepped up, and we have always made sure she knows how much that meant to us and still does.”

Today, Luzuko acts as a social father to his niece, the daughter of his other sister, parenting her with the same steady care his eldest sister once showed him.

"She taught me that you don’t need to control everything. You just need to be present, even when you are not sure what to say."

Luzuko’s wife also plays a big role in shaping his approach to fatherhood.

 "She helps me slow down and listen. That’s something I’m still learning."

Mentorship informs fatherhood

Peter from East London was raised by both parents, but it was his female teachers and mentors who helped shape how he relates to others.

"I had a boss who believed in me more than I believed in myself," he shares. "She didn’t just push me to work harder. She helped me grow."

Those lessons helped him become a more empathetic father. He listens more. He apologises when he gets things wrong. He encourages his children to speak openly about anything they’re grappling with.

"I used to think being a man meant being tough. Now I know that for me being a father means being trustworthy."

Peter also shares the parenting load with his wife. He cooks, does drop-offs and occasionally takes time off work when his kids are sick.

"My children are watching both of us. I want them to know that care is not exclusively a woman’s job. It’s a family value that all members should act out daily."

Strength in silent actions

Tebogo from Pretoria was raised predominantly by his grandmother after his parents separated. She was quiet but firm, and her actions still guide him today.

"My grandmother never gave long speeches. She just lived in a way that made you want to be better," he recalls. From his grandmother Tebogo learnt that “Real strength is quiet and consistent and doesn’t need to shout."

Now a father to a teenage daughter, Tebogo tries to model his own life in line with his grandmother’s example, especially with his daughter being at such an influential age. "There are moments when I see her becoming her own person, and I want her to know she never has to do that alone. I’m here. Not just as her father, but as someone who sees her. That’s how my grandmother made me feel, seen"

His goal is simple. He wants his daughter to remember that her father was there. Not just in the house, but in her life.

Learning to love well

These stories reflect a shift in how many South African men are approaching fatherhood. What they all carry is a legacy of care, with presence as the cornerstone. Whether it was a mother gracefully holding the family together, a sister offering stability, a wife’s willingness to facilitate equal care duties, or a mentor offering encouragement and instilling self-belief, these women left lasting impressions. Their everyday acts of strength and support continue to echo in how these men now raise their own children.