Raising Girls in a World That’s Nuts

By Derek Colvin, LPC-S — The Giant Therapist

Real. Raw. Unfiltered Reflections on Fatherhood and Fear.

When Protection Means More Than Rules

There’s a particular kind of fear that settles into a man when he has daughters. It’s not the loud, panicked kind—it’s quieter, heavier. It hums under the surface, the one that wakes you up at night when the house is still and you realize there’s an entire world out there that you can’t protect them from. Raising girls today—where the noise never stops, where everything is sexualized, fast, and demanding—does something to you. It wakes up the protector, but it also exposes how little control you actually have.

When they’re small, protection feels simple. It’s car seats, curfews, “text me when you get there.” But as they grow, you start realizing that real protection has less to do with fences and more to do with foundation. It’s about helping them know who they are so the world doesn’t get to decide it for them. It’s about teaching them to trust their instincts, to recognize manipulation when they see it, and to understand that their worth was never something that could be earned or taken away.

The Weight Fathers Carry Quietly

Most dads of daughters carry a quiet pressure to get it right. We want to be the man they’ll measure every other man against—to show them what strength feels like when it’s gentle and what leadership looks like when it listens. But many of us are still learning those things ourselves. We grew up in a culture that prized stoicism over softness. Our fathers gave us rules, not emotional language. They taught us how to survive, but not how to be seen.

So we improvise. We love them the best we can with what we’ve got. We show up, work hard, and hope it translates. But somewhere deep down, we know what they really need is more than provision—it’s presence. They need to see the human beneath the armor. The tired version, the uncertain version, the one who still shows up even when he doesn’t have the answers. Because that’s what teaches them what steady love looks like.

The World They’re Growing Up In

The world our daughters are stepping into is relentless. Technology makes everything immediate, comparison is constant, and innocence has an expiration date. They can’t just play online—they have to worry about predators pretending to be friends. They can’t just walk to their car—they have to share their location. They can’t just go to college—they have to keep a drink in sight and a key between their fingers. That’s the part of fatherhood that no one warns you about—the powerlessness. No matter how well you raise them, you can’t stand between them and every risk. You can prepare them, but you can’t protect them from everything. And that truth sits heavy some nights. It’s a grief that comes with loving deeply in a world that doesn’t always feel safe.

Choosing Presence Over Fear

But I don’t want fear to be the story I hand them. So instead of feeding it, I try to ground myself in presence. I hug them longer than I talk. I listen before I correct. I try to show them love that doesn’t come with conditions or performance. Because when a daughter grows up knowing her dad’s affection isn’t earned—it’s assumed—she’ll carry that truth into every relationship she has. She won’t chase validation; she’ll expect respect. That’s how fathers shape their daughters’ sense of safety in the world—not through control, but through consistency. Through the small, steady gestures that remind them, “You are worth showing up for.”

The Moment That Reminded Me Why It Matters

The other night, one of my girls leaned her head on my shoulder and said, “You know, Dad, I always feel safe when you’re around.” I just sat there for a minute and let that land. Because that’s it. That’s what every father hopes to hear—that somehow, through all the mistakes and missed cues, your presence still translates as safety. We can’t protect them from everything, but we can give them that. We can be the calm in a world that keeps trying to scare them. We can teach them that love isn’t about fear—it’s about freedom inside safety.

The Real Work of Fatherhood

If you’re raising girls

in a world that feels unhinged, start there. Be her calm. Be the steady hand that tells her, without words, that she’s okay. Let her see you try and fail and try again. Let her see that strength can be soft and that love can be fierce without being controlling.

Because one day, when she’s navigating all the noise on her own, she’ll remember what it felt like to be loved by a man who wasn’t afraid to show his heart. And that memory might be the thing that brings her home—again and again.

If This Hit Home

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