"It's not that I can't do it...it's that I don't have to"

One of the ironies of internet household labor discourse is that we do a lot more talking about fathers than talking with them. Though understandable, this doesn’t strike me as the best pathway to social change. So when David Hilgendorf, a PhD student at UW-Madison, reached out with his thoughts on my recent post about men and the mental load, I was eager to add his voice to this space.

As you’ll learn, David is not exactly your average dad. Until recently, he stayed home with his three kids (roughly 7% of US fathers are at-home parents, compared to 26% of mothers). Now for his dissertation, he’s researching fathers in similar situations, with a particular focus on what leads some men to take on more cognitive and emotional labor. Read on to learn about his experiences as the lead parent and what his research and anti-racist work have taught David about how we might more effectively bring men to the table.

Prior to starting your PhD, you were an at-home father for about 8 years. Statistically speaking, that’s an unusual choice. Can you tell me about how you and your partner made the decision for you to stay home? And then, once you were actually doing it, what was good about that arrangement and what felt challenging?

The decision felt pretty natural for us. My partner had just finished her PhD and was starting to build her career, while I was working in IT—a job I didn’t see as a long-term passion. She was also earning more, so financially it made sense. But what mattered more to me was the opportunity to upend traditional gender roles. I didn’t just want to be a dad who “helped out”—I wanted to be fully responsible, to be really good at it.

Being an at-home parent was both challenging and rewarding. I loved building a bond with our first child in ways I know I wouldn’t have if I’d been working full time. At the same time, I was struck by how gendered the whole experience was. People constantly praised me for being such an involved father—often for things mothers are expected to do without acknowledgment. That double standard was always in the background, even as I took pride in becoming a confident, competent parent.

I got to know you through your research on fathers and the mental load. Stipulating that this is work-in-progress: in a nutshell, what are you studying? What drew you to these questions? And what have you been finding so far?

I study the mental and emotional labor of parents—things like anticipating needs, planning, and keeping track of the family’s life. I’m interested in what leads some fathers to do more of this work, and what leads some mothers to do less. Ultimately, I want to know how these patterns shape children’s own ideas about gender and parenting.

My interest comes directly from my own experience as an at-home dad. For years I thought I was doing the bulk of childcare and household work, until I realized I was overlooking the fact that my partner was doing just as much on top of her full-time job—what Arlie Hochschild calls the “second shift.” That recognition pushed me to think about not just the physical tasks but also the mental and emotional side of parenting.

My early findings suggest that mothers and fathers often mean different things when they say they’re “sharing” the mental load. For example, when both say they manage the family calendar, fathers might mean adding appointments as they come up, while mothers also anticipate conflicts, plan around activities, and coordinate logistics. On the positive side, I’ve found that fathers with a strong sense of parental identity and those who feel social pressure to be “good parents” tend to take on more of this work—showing there are real pathways to more equitable divisions of labor.

Alright, so we’ve established your bonafides on both the personal and professional side of things. Now I want to get into the exchange we had in response to one of my recent newsletters. I argued (in agreement with Diana Fox Tilson, whose post I was responding to) that men don’t take on more of the mental load for their household in part because they weren’t socialized to do so. You challenged me to more directly acknowledge the role of privilege in all of this: the socialization issue isn’t just about not building skills or learning to care about domestic issues, it’s also about how men learn to see this work as someone else’s job. Can you say more about the distinction you see there, and why you think it’s important to acknowledge?

This is something I’ve only recently started to realize. For a long time I told myself, and other dads, that we just didn’t have the tools—that we hadn’t been socialized to do the emotional side of parenting. And that’s true to a point. We’ve been shaped by patriarchy and masculinity, and most of us weren’t taught to nurture relationships or manage the social-emotional side of family life.

But I’ve also come to see that as kind of a convenient excuse. For example, I’m great at the basics: feeding the kids, getting them to school, handling the logistics. Where I struggle is the social-emotional stuff: keeping connected with other parents, setting up playdates, finding camps. For a long time I told myself, “Well, I just wasn’t socialized to do that.” But if I were a single parent, I’d figure it out, no question.

That’s the privilege piece: I can opt out, knowing my partner will pick it up because she cares about it and our kids need it. So it’s not that I can’t do it—I can. It’s that I don’t have to, and that’s a really important distinction.

You and I have also talked a bit about how we can more effectively invite men into sharing cognitive and emotional labor for their families. Two of the most common narratives I see are “men-as-villains” and “men-as-victims.” How would you describe those narratives? And how effective do you think they are at bringing about change? (To put my own cards on the table here, I think both are limited in important ways!) I happen to know that you’re also involved in anti-racist work and research, so feel free to bring in anything relevant you’ve learned from that work.

Yeah, this is something I wrestle with a lot. The “men-as-villains” narrative paints dads as unwilling or selfish, while “men-as-victims” suggests we’re simply products of patriarchy. I think there’s truth in both, but neither tells the full story.

For some men, the “villain” framing feels like an attack—they don’t want to be the bad guy. That’s where I borrow from anti-racist work: it’s not your fault, but now what are you going to do about it? Not taking on the mental and emotional labor may not be your fault, but if you want an equitable relationship, what steps are you willing to take?

Other men really do feel victimized by patriarchy. We see how it’s limited our friendships, our relationships with partners, even our ability to connect deeply with our kids. I feel this myself—when my kids were little, it was easy to meet their needs by just being present. As they’ve gotten older and their needs are more complex, I’ve struggled to meet them in the same way my partner does. That gap feels like a real loss.

And that’s the tension: we’re shaped by patriarchy, we’re harmed by it, but we also reinforce it in our own parenting. It’s complicated. As much as I sometimes want to just say, “men need to do better,” I don’t think shame creates real change. What does is showing fathers how much better their lives could be—closer relationships with their kids, stronger friendships, better mental health—if they step into this work. That’s where I see hope.

Alright, last question! You’re a parent of three kids. How does all of what we’ve been talking about here shape the way you think about raising them? Are there practices or approaches you’ve adopted to, for example, promote a different kind of socialization than the one you, me, and most current adults got?

Raising kids is hard, and in some ways it gets harder as they grow. With little ones, it’s enough to be physically present—holding them, comforting them. My oldest is 12 now, and their needs are so much more complex. It takes real emotional sensitivity and active engagement, not just showing up.

One thing we’ve tried to do from the start is parent in a very gender-expansive way. Our oldest identifies as non-binary, our middle child uses she/they pronouns, and our youngest doesn’t really think gender is a thing yet—he once told us his class was made up of “just kids,” not boys or girls. We’ve always encouraged them to express themselves however they want.

Looking back, I used to think that me being an at-home dad was enough to disrupt traditional gender roles for them. I realize now that it’s not. I still model plenty of traditional masculine habits in my parenting. So the real work is in staying actively involved in all parts of their lives—especially the emotional and mental labor—and showing them that dads can take on those responsibilities too. That’s how I hope to give them a different model of what parenting and partnership can look like.

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Thanks, David, for such thoughtful reflections! In the comments, I’d love to hear your take on the dominant narratives of men-as-villains and men-as-victims. How effective are these? What alternatives would you like to see?

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