THE BRONX — Jerome Fort has never met his father.
The 28-year-old Bronx resident, now a father of two himself who works as a security officer, said he would occasionally ask his mother about his dad growing up, but she would just dodge the questions and quickly change the subject.
"She wouldn't tell me the specifics of the situation," he said.
Although not having a dad was a challenge for Fort, it did encourage him to be there for his sons so that they would not have to deal with the same struggles.
"That was the big motivation: not having one, and wanting that so much and not being able to have it," he said. "I said, when I have my sons, I’m going to give them what I lacked."
Fort has received help raising his boys—six-year-old Jerrell and 11-year-old Jerome Jr.—through the Bronx Fatherhood Program, an initiative of the not-for-profit Visiting Nurse Service of New York that helps young, low-income dads deal with the stresses and responsibilities of parenthood. VNSNY runs a similar initiative called the Fathers First Program based in Queens.
The programs offer fathers services like legal support and counseling, and staffers will organize a barbecue for them with the non-profit Baby Buggy in Brooklyn Bridge Park on June 20, the day before Father's Day.
Baby Buggy has provided clothes and children's gear to dads in both programs.
"We try to do events that they can enjoy and at the same time don't have to spend money on," said Vincent Thomas, program coordinator for the Bronx Fatherhood Program.
He estimated that less than 20 percent of dads he works with had strong male role models growing up and maintained that this is a big part of what makes them want to be there for their own children.
"For them, it's kind of like, I want to break the cycle," Thomas said. "I want to be a way better father to my kids than my father was to me."
This is very true for Maurice Kellum, a 26-year-old cook at Red Lobster with a six-year-old son.
He credits the Bronx Fatherhood Program with helping him overcome his anger issues, which he said stemmed from his own father not being around very often when he was growing up, thanks largely to a military career and time spent in jail.
“Before the program I was always angry, you know?” he said. “Like, I was always angry at the world because I didn’t have a father. I didn’t have anything.”
“I was struggling, lying on my back every day just mad at everything,” he continued. “I was so mad. I felt like people owed me something.”
The Bronx Fatherhood Program taught Kellum how to manage his anger and helped him find his job, which took a huge amount of pressure and stress off of him, he said.
Like Fort, Kellum credited his father's inconsistent presence in his life with making him vow to be there for his own son.
“It drives me to be a better father,” he said. “It drives me to make him want to turn to me and tell me things that he doesn’t want to tell other people.”
One of the biggest services that the Bronx Fatherhood Program offered for Fort was simply the chance to talk with people about the struggles he was going through as a father, he said.
He would love to meet his own dad even now and has already figured out what he would say to him if this ever happens.
"I love you still," Fort said. "You’ve got two grandchildren here. If you would like to be able to bond with them and be there for them, that would be amazing."
