The WhatsApp notifications came flooding in on June 15th, as they do every Father’s Day.
But a closer examination revealed something deeply unsettling about how we celebrate—or fail to celebrate—the men in our lives.
Unlike Mother’s Day, when sons, daughters, husbands, and extended family members shower women with appreciation, Father’s Day tells a different story.
The overwhelming majority of Father’s Day greetings I received came not from women or children, but from other men.
It was men greeting men, fathers “consoling” fathers on a day of masculine solidarity, born from a shared sense of emotional neglect.
This pattern isn’t unique to network of friends, classmates and family.
Across Nigerian WhatsApp groups and beyond our borders, Father’s Day has become less about celebration and more about men acknowledging their own unmet need for love and appreciation.
Perhaps the most telling moment came when my cousin posted on WhatsApp: “Happy Father’s Day to me, I congratulate myself.”
Across social media platforms, Nigerian fathers increasingly resort to celebrating themselves, sharing their own greetings, and publicly acknowledging the value men bring to their families—contributions that appear to go unnoticed by those who benefit from them most
I don’t know if the message was designed to be humorous, but what it did was to reveal something profoundly sad about the state of fatherhood in contemporary Nigeria.
Here was a man so starved of recognition that he felt compelled to provide it for himself.
This self-congratulation isn’t an isolated incident.
Across social media platforms, Nigerian fathers increasingly resort to celebrating themselves, sharing their own greetings, and publicly acknowledging the value men bring to their families—contributions that appear to go unnoticed by those who benefit from them most.
The phenomenon speaks to a deeper crisis of recognition.
While mothers receive multiple celebration days in Nigeria—one patterned after the UK’s Mother’s Day and another following the American tradition—fathers receive one day, and even that seems half-heartedly observed.
Days before this year’s Father’s Day, warning messages began circulating in men’s groups: “Attention wives! Father’s Day is June 15th o! No come say, ‘I no know.’ Start planning. No – socks are not a gift, abeg. Signed: Concerned husbands.”
These messages, cloaked in humor, reveal something uncomfortable about modern relationships. Men feel the need to remind their partners about their own day of appreciation. They’re essentially begging for love and attention.
Compare this to Mother’s Day preparations, where families begin planning weeks in advance, children craft handmade gifts in schools, and social media explodes with elaborate tributes. The contrast is stark and telling.
This isn’t merely a Nigerian phenomenon. In mixed-race, multicultural groups of former colleagues I’m part of, the pattern remains consistent.
On Mother’s Day, men lead the charge in celebrating women. On Father’s Day, it’s primarily men celebrating other men, while the women in these groups remain notably silent.
In one group consisting entirely of men, we spent considerable time, sharing Father’s Day greetings and encouragement.
In another group, predominantly female, Father’s Day passed without a single acknowledgment of the fathers present. The silence was deafening.
This global pattern suggests something fundamental about how societies view and value masculine contributions to family life.
While maternal sacrifice is universally recognized and celebrated, paternal work often goes unnoticed or is simply expected.
The most heartbreaking stories circulating in Nigerian WhatsApp groups these days involve elderly fathers abandoned in large, empty houses.
These narratives describe men whose wives and children have emigrated abroad, leaving them behind to manage properties and memories in cities like Lagos and Abuja.
I was moved by the story of a 68-year-old retired banker in Lagos, who represents thousands of Nigerian fathers living this reality.
His wife joined their children in Canada three years ago, promising it would be temporary.
Today, he manages a five-bedroom house alone, seeing his family once during Christmas visits that feel more obligatory than loving.
“I worked for 35 years to build this life,” the banker shared in one group chat. “Now I have everything I thought I wanted, but nobody to share it with. My WhatsApp is my only family most days.”
These stories reflect a broader pattern where fathers, having spent decades prioritising family financial security, find themselves emotionally and physically isolated in their later years.
The irony is palpable—men who sacrificed personal relationships for family prosperity end up with prosperity but no family.
Part of the problem lies in traditional gender roles that cast fathers as disciplinarians and financial providers while mothers embody nurturing and emotional connection.
Nigerian fathers often find themselves in the unenviable position of being the family’s “bad guy”- the one who says no, enforces rules, and makes difficult decisions.
This dynamic creates emotional distance between fathers and their children.
While mothers are associated with comfort and understanding, fathers become associated with judgment and demands.
Over time, this breeds resentment rather than appreciation.
Children grow up viewing their fathers as stern providers rather than loving supporters, making expressions of gratitude feel unnatural or forced.
The father becomes respected but not beloved, feared but not cherished.
The crisis also reflects changing expectations around masculinity and emotional expression.
Modern fathers are expected to be providers, protectors, emotional supporters, and active parents—a combination that previous generations never had to navigate.
Yet, society hasn’t adjusted its appreciation mechanisms to match these expanded expectations. Fathers are doing more but receiving less recognition than ever before.
They’re caught between traditional masculine stoicism and modern emotional availability, often succeeding at neither in the eyes of their families.
Increasingly, Nigerian fathers are finding solace in male-only spaces—golf courses, neighborhood bars, club houses, and informal gatherings where they can express vulnerability without judgment.
These spaces become emotional refuges where men can admit their loneliness and need for appreciation.
The solution isn’t to diminish Mother’s Day or reduce appreciation for women.
Rather, it’s about recognizing that fathers—like all humans—need emotional validation and expressions of love.
The current system where men must remind others about Father’s Day or celebrate themselves reveals a fundamental failure of family emotional intelligence.
Families need to consciously develop cultures of appreciation that extend beyond gender stereotypes. Children should be taught to express gratitude to both parents equally.
Perhaps most importantly, society needs to acknowledge that behind every stoic father is a human being who sacrificed personal desires for family welfare and deserves recognition for that sacrifice.
Increasingly, Nigerian fathers are finding solace in male-only spaces—golf courses, neighborhood bars, club houses, and informal gatherings where they can express vulnerability without judgment
German Author, Esther Vilar, thinks men are doomed to work and not be rewarded. In her popular 1971 book, The Manipulated Man, she opined that the situation will not change because women are unsympathetic to men’s plight.
While there are numerous women out there who prove false the hypothesis that the Manipulated Man exists, in what they do every day in their homes, it is also true that more attention should be paid to appreciating men properly for what they do.
As American R&B artist Ray Parker Jr. recognized, moving from “A Woman Needs Love” in 1981 to
“I Don’t Think That Man Should Sleep Alone” in 1987 – men need love too. Nigerian fathers are essentially sleeping alone, emotionally speaking, even when surrounded by family.
The 2025 Father’s Day revealed an uncomfortable truth: in our celebration of strong, silent masculinity, we’ve created generations of men who are starving for the very love they spend their lives providing to others.
It’s time we recognized that fathers aren’t just providers—they’re humans who deserve appreciation, recognition, and love.
The next time Father’s Day approaches, perhaps we should ask ourselves: are we celebrating fathers, or are they going to be celebrating themselves once more?
