Quiet Revolution: A Father’s Day Story from Haiti
Each June, Haiti joins the world in celebrating Father’s Day. For us, it falls on the last Sunday of the month each year, and in the hot tropical haze of Haitian summer we find ourselves paying tribute to the men who raised us.
Accolades pour down like the rain; on social media, at dinner tables, from church pulpits. Fathers are celebrated for their strength and their ability to provide for their families. They are figures of authority first, and our Father’s Day is inseparable from that idea.
But in one corner of Port-au-Prince, I have seen another form of fatherhood take root. It sprouts in the quiet corners of a clinic I know well, without any stages, without any grand speeches. It is steady and often silent. To the untrained eye, it might even be invisible.
I find them at the Heartline Maternity Center, these men, some of them well-acquainted with the mantle of father, others nervously embarking on the journey for the first time.
Frequently, they don’t pose for photos. They don’t seek recognition or praise. Still, they show up. They give their support in whatever ways they can. And their presence, though discreet, is revolutionary.
Challenging the past
In the Haitian context, it is still uncommon to see men accompanying their partners during pregnancy. Women mostly arrive alone to their prenatal appointments, or are accompanied by female family members. The maternal healthcare space is often perceived as female territory, while a man’s job during pregnancy is limited to financial or logistical support.
But Heartline, true to its model of holistic care, has chosen to open the door to a different approach: involving partners in the pregnancy journey.
Slowly, gradually, the dynamic has begun to shift. Men have started to walk through the clinic doors. They have quietly settled into waiting rooms. They have learned to listen, to observe, to understand.
“They don’t speak much, but they always ask essential questions about their partner’s health or the progress of labor,” says Fredelyne, nurse and clinic administrator. “They are there, and that changes everything.”
They are not themselves nurses or midwives, and they step aside for the professionals. But the small things they can do are transformative. I watch an attentive gaze, witness a gentle kiss, watch a hand resting on a shoulder or gently caressing a belly.
It has a profound impact. It creates a sense of partnership, unity, and alliance – in a setting and moment where women are taught not to expect those things from their partners.
Witnesses
Some scenes remain etched in the minds of staff. A man holding his partner’s bag while she winces in pain. Another gently asking the midwife to repeat instructions so he won’t forget anything. Others standing silently for hours, uncomplaining, just waiting for the word that everything is alright.
“On the day of the delivery, I couldn’t do anything for her, but I didn’t want her to go through it alone. I stayed standing until she heard the baby cry. That’s when I understood what it means to be a father,” one father shared, his voice low, eyes still misty.
In these intense moments, the role of the father takes up new meaning. It’s not about grand gestures. It’s not about doing, but rather about being. Being present, being available, being there even when there is no bill to be paid or work to be done.
A new fatherhood
The image of the distant and authoritarian father is still deeply rooted in Haitian culture. But little by little, a new picture is forming: the involved father. One who is gentle, engaged, willing to be vulnerable.
“I never saw my father at the hospital with my mother. For me, it was normal not to go. But when I saw my wife tired and anxious, I knew I had to change that story. I want my son to see something different,” says another father. He’s attended every single appointment without ever being asked.
It’s a quiet revolution, but an essential one.
By welcoming a male presence in maternal care, the team at the Maternity Center is not only carrying out a different vision of healthcare in Haiti, but also helping to reshape the social perception of fatherhood for many young families. They are creating a space where men can live out their role as fathers from the very first heartbeats.
Through these shared portraits, what we seek to highlight is not performance, but posture. That of men who choose to stay. To support. To learn. To walk alongside.
On this Father’s Day, in a Haiti that needs stories of love, consistency, and hope more than ever, we offer these words as a tribute to such men.
May they know that even their quiet presence is a powerful force. May they know that sometimes, simply being there is enough to make all the difference.
Stand alongside them
When you give to the Maternity Center, know that you are not just providing medical care and equipment. You’re making stories like this possible.
There are few hospitals left in Haiti, fewer functioning maternity wards. These young families, these fathers, anxious and hopeful in equal measure – they don’t have options. There are no networks of providers, no support groups, no other place we know where they can be so intimately involved in their partner’s pregnancy journey.
The Heartline Maternity Center is the exception. Donors like you make it possible. In this time of crisis in Haiti, we need your help more than ever.
Join us with a monthly gift (you can even earmark it for the Maternity Center specifically). When you do, know that you are truly, tangibly changing lives – caring for mothers, keeping babies healthy, and welcoming fathers into the story.
About the Author
Aljany Narcius
Haitian journalist Aljany Narcius is currently pursuing a Master 2 in Media Management, online from France’s University of Lille. With ten years of experience in the fields of journalism and communication, Aljany is a linguist who uses the Creole language as her weapon in the fight against social inequalities, exploitation, and all kinds of violence.
Editorial and additional writing provided by the Heartline Haiti team.
