By Patrick Hardeman – In and Out of Darkness

For Black men especially, community is not a luxury — it’s survival.

My people give me things the world doesn’t:

• unspoken understanding
• laughter that hits different
• cultural rhythm
• emotional safety
• shared experience
• representation
• collective memory
• strength
• pride

Without that?

The world becomes heavier.
Stress becomes sharper.
Isolation becomes dangerous.
Identity starts to unravel.

I’ve been surviving in a place where no one speaks my language — not the literal language, but the soul language. The kind of understanding you don’t have to explain. The kind that greets you before you open your mouth.

And I miss it.

I miss:

• men who understand your struggle without needing a paragraph
• women who see your worth without squinting
• neighborhoods that feel like home
• food with history in it
• jokes that don’t need subtitles
• music that sounds like memory
• faces that look like mine
• energy that feels like life

Without that grounding, you start to feel like a ghost moving through someone else’s world.

—

Men survive for many reasons — but they fight for their children.

Purpose changes everything.
Direction changes everything.
Fatherhood changes everything.

My kids have always been my anchor — the reminder that no matter how lost I felt, I wasn’t allowed to disappear.

My son is my core.
My daughter is my North Star.

—

My people are the oxygen to my soul

Being:

• understood
• respected
• supported
• reflected
• seen

…especially by another Black man, is not comfort — it’s restoration.

It’s:

• culture
• humor
• validation
• rhythm
• family
• connection
• belonging
• Black joy

It’s the kind of life a Black man creates when he finally gets free enough to breathe.

— Black Men Don’t Assume “Tomorrow” —

We don’t assume “next year.”

We don’t even assume “next month.”

Some days, we don’t assume “next sunrise.”

So birthdays, milestones, and moments with our children – they carry weight other people will never understand.

Missing my daughter’s birthday tomorrow?
That’s not a small thing.
That’s not “just another day.”
That’s a wound with a memory.

But even in the distance, the love doesn’t fade.

It sharpens.

It pulls at you.

It becomes the heartbeat of why you keep going.

And that’s where this ends — with her.

—

A Tribute to My Daughter on Her 24th Birthday

There have been days when the weight felt too heavy, when giving up seemed easier than holding on.
Days when the world felt cold, loud, and unforgiving.
Days when the silence around me made it hard to remember who I was.

But every time I reached that edge, the image of my kids pulled me back.

Their faces.
Their laughter.
Their futures.
Their need for a father who refuses to disappear.

They have been my anchor in storms that would’ve swallowed me whole.
They kept my heart beating when my spirit wanted to quit.
They reminded me that I still have a purpose, even when I couldn’t feel it myself.

And tomorrow, my baby girl turns 24.

She’s grown now — a woman with her own strength, her own wisdom, her own world.
But to me, she will always be the little girl who ran into my arms and called me Daddy like the word itself was a home.

Baby girl, you’ve saved me more times than you’ll ever know.

Your love pulls me forward.
Your voice keeps me grounded.
Your belief in me forces me to keep becoming a better man — not just for me, but for you and your brother.

So on your 24th birthday, this is my promise:

I’m still here.
I’m still fighting.
I’m still becoming the version of “Daddy” you deserve — the one who shows up, stands up, and never stops trying.

Happy birthday, baby girl.
Your light has carried me through more darkness than you’ll ever realize.
And I’m still here because being your Daddy is the most sacred gift I’ve ever been given.

Sharing a Twizzler after work.

Happy Holidays to All

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