Black Fatherhood Under Pressure: Discipline, Damage, and the Dream of a Better Life
by Durwin B. Brown (aka Brotha D) 4/26/26
Let me begin by stating that I am a great collector of ELEPHANTS. Now I’m not talking about the pachyderms you see roaming in the Great Serengeti located in the beautiful country of Tanzania on the MOTHER CONTINENT of AFRIKA! No, I am talking about the types that tend to migrate and congregate in the middle of rooms. In other words, I enjoy acknowledging, addressing, and finding solutions and strategies to rectify issues that tend to be ignored without a mere second glance. Black fatherhood and the pressures that come along with molding, guiding, and the methods of disciplining their successful Black children, is one such "tusker".
I just finished viewing the phenomenal biopic MICHAEL and genuinely enjoyed the portrayal of the "King of Pop" Michael Jackson as a human with normal emotional and psychological vulnerabilities. I must admit that I went into watching this film from a lifelong fan's POV. There was a lot that I knew about "MJ" but this film provided more insight about the MAN behind the ICON with much appreciated clarity. I also felt comfortable knowing that Michael's legacy would be both protected and well represented not only by the fact that his family members, some of his surviving siblings, as well as one of his own children, namely his son Prince, serving as executive producers.
I must say that I did indeed have one concern from the time I heard this film was going into production. How would "Poppa Joe" be portrayed? Would this be a hit piece on a man that has been presented as an ignoble character hovering over his children's collective success? Would his name be tossed into the same worn-out virtual cage that houses a laundry list of accused "overbearing" Black fathers within the sports and entertainment worlds, such as Richard Williams father of Venus and Serena Williams, Lavar Ball, Deion Sanders, and most recently, Lebron James?
Joseph Walter Jackson remains one of the most complicated father figures in American entertainment history. To some, he was the hard-driving architect behind one of the greatest musical families the world has ever seen. To others, he was a domineering parent whose methods left emotional wounds that fame and fortune could not erase. The truth may live somewhere in the uncomfortable space between those two views.
Joseph Jackson’s parenting and management style may not sit well with most people today. In fact, much of what has been reported about his strictness, emotional hardness, and physical discipline would now be viewed as harmful and unacceptable. Several of his children, including Michael Jackson, spoke publicly about the pain they associated with their father’s methods. Joseph himself acknowledged being tough and physically disciplining his children, while defending his approach as part of what made them successful.
But to write about Joseph Jackson honestly, we must hold more than one truth at the same time. We can recognize the damage without pretending there was no purpose behind his drive. We can critique his methods while still acknowledging that his motivation appears to have been tied to something many Black fathers of his generation understood deeply: the fear of seeing your children swallowed by poverty, racism, street life, limited opportunity, and unrealized potential.
Joseph was not born into privilege. He came from Arkansas, experienced family instability as a child, and later settled in Gary, Indiana, where he worked as a crane operator for U.S. Steel. Britannica describes him as a one-time professional guitarist and steel company worker, while Katherine Jackson was deeply involved in music and faith inside the home. Their children were raised in a working-class environment where talent was present, but opportunity was not guaranteed.
That context matters.
Joseph Jackson saw something in his sons before the world did. When Jackie, Tito, and Jermaine showed musical interest, he began shaping them into a group. Eventually, Marlon and Michael were added, and what began as a family act in Gary became the Jackson 5. By 1969, Motown Records signed them, and by 1970 they had become a national phenomenon with major hits such as “I Want You Back,” “ABC,” “The Love You Save,” and “I’ll Be There.”
That rise did not happen by accident. It took discipline, rehearsal, structure, business focus, and a father who refused to treat his children’s gifts casually. Joseph understood that talent without direction could be wasted. He also understood that Black excellence often had to be twice as prepared, twice as polished, and twice as undeniable just to receive a fair opportunity.
That does not excuse the fear-based atmosphere his children described. It does, however, help explain the mind-set. Joseph Jackson was not simply chasing applause. He was chasing escape. Escape from the steel mills. Escaping from economic struggle. Escape from invisibility. Escape from the narrow future that America often assigned to poor Black children from industrial cities.
This is where the conversation becomes difficult.
Many parents from Joseph’s era believed love was proven through protection, provision, correction, and sacrifice—not always through tenderness. Some fathers did not know how to say, “I love you,” but they knew how to work two jobs. They did not always know how to nurture a child’s emotions, but they knew how to keep that child practicing, focused, and away from danger. In Joseph’s mind, softness may have looked like weakness, and weakness may have looked like a door through which the world could destroy his children.
That kind of thinking produced results—but it also produced pain.
The Jackson 5 became one of the most successful family groups in music history. Michael Jackson became one of the most influential entertainers ever. Janet Jackson became a global superstar in her own right. The Washington Post described Joseph as the “architect” behind the Jackson 5 and the careers of Michael and Janet, while also noting that his legacy was deeply complicated by accusations of exploitation and abusive behavior.
That duality is the heart of Joseph Jackson’s legacy. He helped build greatness, but the building process came at a cost. He opened doors, but some of those doors led to emotional distance. He created discipline, but discipline without tenderness can become fear. He protected his children from one kind of danger while exposing them to another kind of pressure.
The question, then, is not whether Joseph Jackson mattered. He did. The question is how we should understand him.
A shallow reading turns him into either a villain or a hero. A deeper reading sees him as a man shaped by his time, his pain, his disappointments, and his ambitions. He was a father who wanted more for his children than he had for himself. He was also a father whose methods left some of those same children struggling with the emotional weight of his approach.
That is not contradiction. That is complexity.
Joseph Jackson’s story forces us to talk about generational parenting, especially in Black families where survival has often shaped discipline. Many parents raised in hardship believed that the world would not be gentle with their children, so they chose not to be gentle either. Their logic was often: “If I make you strong now, the world will not break you later.” But the missing lesson is that strength built through fear can still leave wounds.
The more powerful lesson may be this: intention matters, but impact matters too.
Joseph may have intended to create successful, disciplined, world-ready children. In many ways, he did. But success does not erase hurt. Wealth does not erase fear. Applause does not erase childhood pain. A platinum record cannot hug the child who felt unseen behind the performer.
Still, it would be unfair to ignore that Joseph Jackson saw genius where others may have seen only poor Black boys from Gary. He saw possibility. He saw marketability. He saw discipline as a bridge from poverty to power. He saw the entertainment industry as a way out, and he pushed his children toward that exit with relentless force.
Most people today would reject his methods. Many would say there were better ways to motivate, protect, and prepare children. They would be right. But Joseph Jackson’s life should also remind us that some parents operate from fear as much as love. They are not always equipped with emotional language. They are not always healed by their own upbringing. They sometimes confuse control with care and obedience with respect.
Joseph Jackson was not a simple man, and his legacy should not be treated simply.
He was a father, a manager, a dreamer, a disciplinarian, a flawed patriarch, and a man who helped change the course of American music. His children’s success cannot be separated from his drive. Their pain cannot be separated from his methods. Both truths must stand together.
In the end, Joseph Walter Jackson’s story is not just about the Jackson 5. It is about the price of ambition. It is about Black fatherhood under pressure. It is about survival parenting. It is about the danger of believing that greatness must be beaten, forced, or frightened into existence.
Perhaps the fairest conclusion is this: Joseph Jackson wanted his children to have better lives than the one he endured. That desire was real. That desire was powerful. That desire changed music history. But the lesson for future generations is that love must be more than sacrifice, more than discipline, and more than results.
Love must also be safe.
Joseph Jackson gave his children a path to the world. The challenge for us is to learn from both the path he created and the pain that came with it.
All rights reserved Durwin B. Brown/The Catalyst Foundation for Youth Development 2026