Emery's Rites of Passage

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His preparation to conquer mountains began at birth. When I first held him, I accepted the responsibility and joy of raising a son. Without a manual, I acquired the skills, grasped the knowledge, and made mistakes.

Although my father provided a reliable example, I had to learn how to raise my children. I changed diapers, attended doctor’s appointments, showed up for school functions, and transported them to sports activities. My dad offered guidance with his presence during my upbringing, but my children and wife taught me how to be a father.

This past weekend’s rites of passage activities aligned with my values. Each component hit spiritual, mental, and physical chords. It embodied the lessons I learned along the path to fatherhood.  

According to Dr. Lathardus Goggins II, African-centered rites of passage has four phases: preparation, separation, transition, and reincorporation. Preparation encompasses every life lesson and cultural value adopted before transitioning into adolescence or adulthood. Separation entails removing individuals from their environment for a test. Transitions receive acknowledgment in intimate ceremonies alongside the reincorporation or presentation back to the community.

With Goggins’s model, I took my boys to Yosemite National Park for a separation experience. I purchased camping gear and had my budding teenage son research and write about the history of the Buffalo Soldiers at the park. I wanted him to see the connection between soldiers’ steps to protect Yosemite and his climb along the trails.   

We arrived on Saturday afternoon at a camp village 50 miles outside the park. Lodging inside Yosemite requires reservations or the willingness to spend more than my budget can afford. As soon as we arrived on site, we rode the campsite's bicycles through fields of abandoned paths.

I had the boys pause at two locations. We did capoeira and meditated near strange copper statues and stop signs in the middle of nothingness.

After our bike escapades, we returned to the cabin. I instructed the boys to assemble their tent in the living room/kitchen. After several frantic calls for help and an assessment of the space, they stopped.

It wouldn’t fit in the contained space. The boys squeezed the tent into its carrier and laid their sleeping bags down on the wooden floor.

We organized our belongings and left to eat. With my son’s multiple food allergies, I smiled when Google Maps identified his favorite restaurant within a five-mile radius. Chipotle didn’t give us the roughing-it outdoor hunting experience, but it offered safety in a small town with limited healthcare options.

We ate and then returned to the cabin to write, read, and discuss the topic of manhood. He asked questions, and I answered them with patience and the best of my knowledge. I needed rest, but they remained hungry for more activity.

I journaled, and they played a camp-style version of volleyball over wooden logs. The night ended with prayer.

The next morning, we woke up at 3:30 AM and drove to Yosemite. After 1.5 hours of traveling along sharp cliffs and dark roads, we parked the car in a lot 1.5 miles from the trailheads. I placed a backpack with everyone’s water bottles, coconut water, camera, snacks, and first aid equipment on my budding teenager’s back.  

We discussed how the weight symbolized the burden and added responsibility that often accompanies manhood. It also represented the Kwanzaa symbol of Ujima, which means collective work and responsibility. 

How did my son manage the 6-mile hike from the car to Vernal Fall and receive recognition at home? I created a special vlog episode for him to keep in the cloud wherever he goes in life. Like my dad, who unfortunately missed the experience, you can watch it below.

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