Growing up, there were two boys and one girl in our family. My sister was outnumbered but never outshined. I watched my dad love her in a quiet, protective way—something that didn’t fully land until I became a father myself. Now, all these years later, I realize how incredibly lucky I am to have been gifted not just one daughter, but two.
I’m a proud “girl dad.”
That phrase gets tossed around a lot these days, and I wear it like a badge of honor. I didn’t know what kind of father I’d be. I didn’t know what shape my love would take. But from the moment I held each of my daughters in my arms, something in me softened and opened. They have changed me in ways I’m still discovering.
The thing about raising daughters is that they show you the world through a different lens—one filled with nuance, intuition, emotion, and strength. I’ve been taught as much as I’ve taught. If I had sons, I know I would’ve loved them just as fiercely. But having daughters cracked me wide open. It’s like my heart lives outside my chest now.
A song that captures this feeling better than I ever could is James Taylor’s “Sarah Maria”. Released in 1975 on his album Gorilla, it’s a gentle lullaby written for his daughter, Sarah Maria Taylor—who most of us know today as Sally Taylor. The melody is soft, like a whispered bedtime story. The lyrics are tender and poetic, a father speaking directly to his little girl with all the love in the world and none of the pretense.
What touches me most is the emotional honesty in that song. Taylor, a man who’s walked through his share of shadows, laid down this bright, beautiful offering to his daughter. It’s not flashy or complicated. It’s just real. It feels like a quiet promise: I see you, I love you, and I’ll always come back to you.
That’s what being a girl dad feels like.
I’m not always perfect, but I try to show up—with kindness, with presence, with listening ears, and an open heart. I want my daughters to feel the same sense of protection, affection, and encouragement I hear in that song.
There are plenty of loud anthems about fatherhood, but “Sarah Maria” is a soft one. And sometimes, softness is the bravest thing we can offer.
So here’s to the girl dads out there—those raising strong, smart, creative, compassionate daughters. Here’s to the quiet strength it takes to love gently and lead with your heart. And here’s to the girls who show us how.
I couldn’t have asked for a greater gift than being their dad. And I’ll spend the rest of my life letting them know just how much they mean to me.
Jack
