By Staff
Mitchell Scott’s journey into fatherhood is a sacred blend of humility, intentionality, and unwavering love. For him, being a father isn’t just a role—it’s a calling. From the surreal moment he first held his sons to the countless daily choices that shape their lives, Mitchell embraces fatherhood as both a gift and a responsibility. His experience as a Black father is layered with pride, purpose, and a deep desire to lead with grace while challenging outdated stereotypes. In every interaction, whether it’s guiding his children, supporting fellow dads, or balancing his personal wellness, Mitchell embodies the kind of fatherhood that is rooted in presence, strength, and faith.
Can you describe the moment you first became a father and what emotions you experienced?
Honestly, the moment I first became a father didn’t even feel real. I was there the whole time—from labor to delivery—but it still felt surreal that I had a part in creating an actual human being. And then I got to do it twice! Holding each of my sons for the first time was incredible. It felt like I was holding something so small and fragile, but at the same time, so powerful and full of potential.
I was overwhelmed with emotion—joy, fear, pride—and most of all, this deep sense of humility. I remember thinking about something my mom used to say: “Children aren’t just a gift from God—they’re loaned to you. And your job is to protect them, nurture them, and guide them.” That really hit me in those moments, and it’s stuck with me ever since.
In what ways has becoming a father changed you as a man?
Becoming a father made me more purpose-driven, no doubt. It gave me a reason to check in with myself every day—like, “How did I show up today as a father? What can I do better tomorrow?” It pushed me to grow.
Fatherhood sharpened my focus. It made me more patient, more understanding—and definitely more intentional with my words and actions. I’ve learned to balance strength with vulnerability, and discipline with love. It’s also made me a better problem-solver and communicator, not just at home, but in every part of my life.
But more than anything, it gave me this deep, unshakable sense of pride. There’s nothing like looking at your kids and knowing they’re watching you, learning from you, and depending on you to lead them. That kind of responsibility changes everything.
What are some of the challenges you face as a Black father in today’s world?
One of the biggest challenges, honestly, is raising kids in a world that still wants to define them by stereotypes. As a Black father, that weighs heavy on me. I know how the world can see us before they even know us—and I never want my kids to carry that weight alone.
That’s one of the reasons why we sit down for dinner as a family every night. I want to hear about their day—the wins, the struggles, all of it—because I need them to know their voice matters, and they always have a safe space to be heard. I worry about how they’ll be treated out there, how they’ll be perceived, so we try to prepare them early. We give them the language, the knowledge, and the confidence to speak up when things aren’t right. I want them to know how to stand tall and speak truth—but also to do it wisely and with grace.
I also push them to give their best in everything they do—whether it’s school, sports, or just how they carry themselves. Not because I expect perfection, but because I want them to feel confident and capable. I don’t want the world to shake them. I want them to walk into every room knowing they belong there.
How do you support and uplift other Black fathers in your community?
I’m big on brotherhood. I believe in Black fathers, and I genuinely want to see us win. I pray for my brothers, I check in on them, and I make sure they know I’m here—whether they need advice, a laugh, or just someone to listen.
We create space to connect—over drinks, a good run, biking, traveling, or even just a quick text or phone call. There’s no judgment, just real connection. We talk about life, we share investment strategies, we vent when we need to, and we always celebrate each other’s wins, big or small.
Sometimes that support looks like organizing father-child events in the community, and sometimes it’s just being that friend who picks up when you call. Either way, I want other Black fathers to feel seen, supported, and reminded that they’re not alone in this journey. We’re in it together.
How do you balance work, purpose, and fatherhood in a way that keeps your family grounded?
As a Black father, I’ve learned that balance isn’t about doing everything—it’s about doing what matters most with intention. When I’m at work, I give it 100%, no question. But once I leave, my energy shifts straight to what really feeds my soul—my family.
I make space for the little things that mean everything. Whether it’s dinner at their favorite restaurant(s), cheering from the sidelines at games, bedtime talks, or planning getaways—those are the moments that keep us connected. I protect that time like it’s sacred, because it is.
There’s always a pull between chasing opportunity and being present, but I try to thread that needle with care. Our kids don’t just need providers—they need fathers who are emotionally present, spiritually grounded, and fully engaged. I want my children to see a Black man who leads with love, shows up with consistency, and knows his presence carries weight.
Can you share a time when you felt especially proud as a father?
One of the proudest moments I’ve had as a dad actually happened during a simple game of 2-on-2 basketball. My oldest son had a chance to pick his teammate, and without hesitation, he picked his little brother instead of one of his friends. That really got to me. I’ve always told him, “Pick your brother first—every time.” Not just because he’s family, but because doing that builds a sense of oneness between them. It’s the kind of habit that creates a bond nothing can break. They’re four years apart now, but one day that won’t matter. What will matter is the friendship and loyalty they’ve built by choosing each other again and again.
And then there was another moment that really stuck with me—this time with my younger son. He stood up for a kid on the bus who was getting picked on. No one told him to do it. There wasn’t an audience cheering him on. It was just him doing the right thing when no one was watching. That kind of character… it really hit me. It showed me that even when I’m not sure they’re listening to what I say, they’re paying attention to what I do. They’re watching. Always watching.
Are there any myths or stereotypes about Black fatherhood that you’re working to dismantle through how you show up?
Though I’m keenly aware, honestly, instead of focusing on the myths or stereotypes about Black fathers, I try to keep my attention on a more personal question: “What kind of father do I want to be, and am I actually showing up that way?” It’s a simple question, but it keeps me grounded. Every day, I aim to be intentional with my love, consistent with my presence, and vocal about how much I care.
I want my kids—and really anyone who crosses paths with me—to know that we are kind, spiritually-grounded, respectful, powerful, intelligent, and loving. That’s how I push back on the stereotypes—not through debate, but through how I live, love, and lead as a father.
How do you stay mentally and emotionally well while being a father, partner, and provider?
As a Black father, partner, and provider, staying mentally and emotionally well requires intention. For me, that means carving out time to reflect, pray, and take care of myself—not just for my own sake, but so I can keep showing up fully for the people who count on me. I make space to run, lift weights, meditate, and dive into researching stocks—those are outlets that help me reset and refocus.
But I don’t do it alone. I lean on my circle—other Black men who share my values, respect my vision, and walk with me through the ups and downs. Brothers who understand what it means to carry the weight, but also the joy, of being a protector and nurturer. That kind of support isn’t just helpful—it’s necessary. It reminds me I’m not in this alone.
If you only could say one thing to your child/children knowing that you would never see them again, what would that be?
You two are—and will always be—the greatest thing I’ve ever achieved in this life. You’ve shown me how to lead with empathy and that my true purpose is to be the best father and man I can possibly be for you. Your light, your gifts, your spirit—they’ve already touched my heart, and I pray they continue to impact others in the same powerful way. You are blessed. You are deeply loved. You have greatness in store. And I thank you for letting me be your father and protector.
