By Staff
Mario Reyes is more than a father—he is a storyteller, a protector, and a man who wears his heart on his sleeve with intention. As an Afro Latino father navigating the complexities of parenting in today’s world, Mario approaches fatherhood not as a title, but as a daily act of devotion and transformation. Through love, laughter, cultural grounding, and emotional presence, he models a version of manhood that is both tender and powerful. In this conversation, Mario shares the lessons he’s learned, the legacy he’s building, and the ways he shows up—consistently, creatively, and courageously—for the next generation.
What does fatherhood mean to you—not just the title, but the responsibility and the legacy?
Fatherhood ain’t just a noun—it’s a verb. It’s action, presence, and purpose. It’s rewriting the story your father didn’t finish and making sure your children know how to read it with love and legacy in their bones.
In what ways has becoming a father changed you as a man?
Fatherhood matured my rage, softened my ego, and sharpened my vision. I became more disciplined—not because I had to—but because I wanted to be better. For them. For me. For the man I claimed I wanted to be. I’m still blooming.
What do you find most fulfilling about being a father?
Watching them become. Seeing their personalities unfold in real-time and realizing I get a front row seat to their evolution. Every time they confide in me or challenge me, even when they disagree, I feel honored. I’m not raising replicas—I’m raising originals. And I celebrate that.
How do you show love and affection to your children, and how did you learn that language of love?
I show love loud. I say “I love you” like it’s a daily vitamin—something they need, and I need to give. I hold them. I laugh with them. I listen even when I don’t agree. I make space for their full selves. And I always show up—no matter how heavy the day is. The politics of life don’t get to interrupt the business of our love.
What are some of the challenges you face as a Black father in today’s world?
Raising Black children in a world that criminalizes or commodifies them before they even understand their worth is an uphill walk. I teach them to survive without shrinking. Protecting them while preparing them is a tightrope—but it’s my sacred duty. I want them to be strong enough to fly and wise enough to know when to land. Every child under my wings deserves the tools to rewrite the narrative.
How do you teach your children about identity, pride, and navigating the world as a Black child?
I teach identity through story, rhythm, and daily living. I don’t just tell them who they are—I show them. From their Afro Latino roots to the soulful echoes of Mississippi, I help them see that their lineage is layered and divine. Their skin is a crown—imitated but never duplicated. Their spirit is ancient. Their power? Innate.
How do you balance work, purpose, and fatherhood in a way that keeps your family grounded?
Balance comes from alignment. I don’t chase busy—I chase meaningful. When I stopped trying to separate work, purpose, and fatherhood and started aligning them, everything got louder—my joy, my clarity, my love. My family knows the “why” behind what I do. And my presence will always speak louder than my paycheck.
What’s a lesson you’ve learned from your own father or father figure that you’re now passing on?
“Family first.” That’s the most powerful lesson I got from the men who came before me. Everything flows from the love we share. I also pass on the importance of exposure—because seeing the world expands the soul. I bring them to the block and the boardroom, the corner store and the coastline. Their worldview should be vast enough to make room for all of who they are.
How do you approach discipline, and what values do you hope to instill in your children?
I lead with understanding, not control. I don’t want obedience for obedience’s sake. I want them to know accountability, empathy, respect, and their own self-worth. Yes, there are consequences—but there’s always room for grace.
What’s one of the most joyful or funny moments you’ve had with your child or children?
One of the funniest moments? My youngest looked at my dance moves and said they were “vintage.” Like I came out of a museum. I laughed so hard I cried. These kids? They stay humbling me with love.
How do you stay mentally and emotionally well while being a father, partner, and provider?
I stay well by checking in with myself, often. I don’t wear the mask of invincibility. I go to therapy. I lean on my brothers. I let myself be still. I’ve learned that if I don’t deal with my wounds, I’ll end up bleeding on the people I love most.
Are there any myths or stereotypes about Black fatherhood that you’re working to dismantle through how you show up?
There are so many myths about Black fatherhood I work to dismantle just by showing up. That we’re absent. That we’re emotionally unavailable. That we don’t bake cookies. I walk into every room with my full fatherhood on display—soft, strong, grounded, loud, and loving. “Waddup, I just baked some cookies!” That’s me.
What’s one thing you hope your children remember most about their childhood with you?
If my children remember one thing about growing up with me, I hope it’s that I loved them loudly and without reservation. That I was there. That their home was a safe place to bloom—where laughter echoed and love was constant.
If you could only say one thing to your children knowing that you would never see them again, what would that be?
You are worthy as you are. Without title, without condition. My love lives in your breath, and it will echo with every step you take.
