The Tribune

THERE is a quiet breakdown happening in many families, one that does not always announce itself with shouting or scandal. Sometimes it slips in unnoticed, disguised as “having fun,” as harmless socialising, or as a man’s right to enjoy himself after a hard day. But when a father chooses popularity over responsibility, nightlife over nurture, and applause from drinking buddies over the needs of his family, the consequences are neither quiet nor harmless. They are devastating.

And they echo through generations.

The family is society’s first classroom. It’s where children learn how to behave, how to love, how to respect themselves and others, and how to navigate the world. When the father--the man expected to be the steel in the family’s foundation--abandons that role, the structure weakens. When he leaves altogether, or is physically present but emotionally absent, the collapse begins from the inside.

Traditionally, and understandably, the father is expected to provide security: a roof over his family’s head, food on the table, and a sense of stability that allows everyone else to thrive. But provision goes beyond money. It includes wisdom, guidance, and leadership. A father is meant to set standards, to lay down guidelines that help shape good, productive citizens. He is supposed to model dignity, pride, truth, self-respect, and respect for others. These are not abstract ideals. They are daily lessons taught by example.

Yet too often, these lessons are never taught because the teacher is missing.

When a father prioritises bar hopping over bedtime stories, laughter with drinking buddies over conversation with his children, and public admiration over private responsibility, the message is loud and clear: the family is not first.

And children, whether we acknowledge it or not, are always watching.

The son watches his father and learns what it means to be a man. If the father is irresponsible, unreliable, intoxicated, or emotionally distant, the son internalises that behaviour as normal—even admirable. He sees that manhood is measured by how many people know your name at the “watering hole,” by how easily you can buy a round of drinks, or by how loudly others praise you for being a “cool brother.” Responsibility, sacrifice, and self-discipline fade into the background.

Without a positive male role model at home, the son gravitates toward men outside the home. Too often, these men are just as lost, just as broken, and just as irresponsible as the father who failed them. But at least they offer attention. And for a young boy craving validation, attention--any attention!--can feel like love. This is how destructive cycles are born, and how patterns of chaos are passed from one generation to the next.

The daughter suffers differently, but no less profoundly. A father’s love gives a daughter a sense of safety, worth, and emotional grounding. It teaches her what to expect from men and what behaviour she should never accept. When that love is absent, when the father is drunk, distracted, or disengaged, a dangerous void forms. Predatory men recognise that void immediately. They see insecurity, hunger for affection, and emotional neglect, and they exploit it.

This doesn't happen by chance. It’s a direct result of fathers leaving their families.

Meanwhile, the mother carries the heaviest burden. She becomes both nurturer and enforcer, provider and protector, emotional anchor and disciplinarian. She stretches herself thin, often trying to “rub two coins together” to make a meal, worrying about school lunches, uniforms, and basic necessities. She does this while receiving little or no emotional support from the man who is supposed to be her partner.

Her strength is slowly drained, not because she is weak, but because she is doing the work of two people alone. The emotional neglect she experiences is rarely acknowledged. She becomes invisible, exhausted, and resentful, yet still expected to hold everything together. This is not strength celebrated. It’s strength exploited.

While the mother struggles at home, the father is often out partying, drinking, and seeking attention. He feels important because others notice him outside, even though his family is falling apart at home. He spends money on strangers, but his own children go without. This is not just sad, but deeply wrong.

Many men who act this way would rather not talk about it. Some of us who discuss this issue do so because we have made these mistakes ourselves. But admitting what we have done wrong does not make it okay. We need to be honest and face these problems directly. Staying silent has never fixed a broken family, and ignoring the truth has never healed a divided society.

The damage does not stop at the front door. When families break down, society absorbs the shock. Undisciplined, misguided youth wander the streets without direction, self-respect, or purpose. They are anxious to be accepted, often by questionable adults who do not have their best interests at heart. Crime increases. Violence escalates. Distrust becomes the norm.

And here is the disturbing truth: Bahamian society has helped to encourage and condone this behaviour. Through misplaced cultural pride, we have confused “having fun” with integrity, irresponsibility with freedom, and recklessness with masculinity. Too often, we turn a blind eye to—or worse, celebrat--behaviour that undermines the family structure.

This is not confined to any one group. It affects every socioeconomic level, every neighbourhood, every educational background, and every religious affiliation. This is not a problem of poverty alone, nor wealth, nor lack of education.

It’s a moral and cultural crisis that cuts across all divisions.

For decades, these destructive patterns have been passed down. Sons grow into men who repeat what they saw. Daughters grow into women who tolerate what they learned to expect. After several generations, chaos begins to feel normal. Disorder becomes familiar. Responsibility feels optional.

But is there hope?

Yes, but only if we are willing to revisit old principles that once grounded us. There must be a renewing of the mind, particularly among men. Fathers must reclaim their rightful place as leaders of the family, not dictators, not tyrants, but steady, present, accountable leaders. Leadership in the home transcends ego. It requires sacrifice. It demands consistency. And it restores order.

Order, discipline, and self-respect are not outdated concepts. They are stabilising forces. They cool tempers, they reduce suspicion, and they create environments where respectful dialogue can flourish. When children grow up seeing respect practised daily, they learn to extend it outward—to neighbours, to classmates, and eventually to the nation.

Facing reality, a positive mindset is cultivated at home. We become what we repeatedly see and live. If disrespect is normalised in the family, it will manifest in society. If responsibility is modelled consistently, it will spill into the neighbourhood and strengthen the country.

This crisis is fixable, but not if we continue trying to fit in. Popularity has never built a nation. Applause from drinking buddies has never raised a child. It’s time to stop standing out for the wrong reasons and start standing up for the right ones.

Let’s stand up for our children.

Let’s stand up for our families.

Let’s take responsibility for building a country based on integrity. Our grandchildren deserve to inherit a nation defined by peace, not chaos; by accountability, not excuses.

And that future does not begin in parliament or policy, it begins in the home.