Daughter: “What if you’re not my real dad? Like, what if someone else is my actual dad?”
Dad: “Why do you say that? What made you think of this?”
Daughter: “I don’t know… I just think I’d feel sad if you weren’t my real dad. I’d begin to like the other guy, even if I didn’t know him. He’d feel like part of me.”
Dad: “Even if that other guy was someone you didn’t like? Or just some random man, like that one sitting over there on the bus?”
Daughter: “Yeah, I think so.”
Dad: “That’s interesting. Do you think having conceived you makes someone special?”
Daughter: “Maybe… like he’d be part of me.”
I just had a similar conversation with my 9 year-old daughter. It got me thinking about the layers of meaning we ascribe to parenthood, biology, and identity. My daughter’s reflection, akin to daydreaming, reflects something profound: an almost magical importance attributed to biology, even in relationships that have no direct emotional or experiential basis. Where does this come from? How do biology, culture, and psychology shape the way we perceive kinship?
The Paradox of Discovery
My daughter has two step-siblings who have a different father. This might be related to why she suddenly thought of her origins in this conscious way—besides the fact that her father is interested in these topics! If this wasn’t the case, these thoughts would probably be more repressed.
It’s fascinating how the mere possibility of a different biological connection suddenly introduces a strange emotional complexity. Why would someone we’ve never met, whose existence is entirely hypothetical, feel so significant to a child? It’s not as though the biological connection itself provides tangible love, care, or support. And yet, for my daughter, the knowledge of a biological link would be enough to create a bond—or at least a sense of its necessity.
My daughter’s thoughts may have been influenced by her relationship with her two step-siblings, whose father—someone she doesn’t particularly like— is indirectly present in our lives. Still, she told me she would feel a connection to him if he were her biological father. This highlights the symbolic power of biology: even someone she dislikes, or a stranger, could become likeable simply through the idea of shared origins.
Biology or culture?
There is an interesting biological angle to consider. Research on epigenetics suggests that some traits or tendencies can be shaped by the experiences of previous generations. While speculative, it’s possible that family history leaves a subtle imprint that influences how we perceive relationships. Could this explain why children sometimes feel a mysterious connection to biological relatives, even those they’ve never met? Perhaps—though the cultural and psychological layers of kinship are undoubtedly more influential.
Humans are cultural beings, and kinship is fundamentally a linguistic phenomenon. Anthropologists have shown that many societies define kinship through social roles rather than genetic ties. Among the Trobriand Islanders, for example, the mother’s brother often plays a central role in raising children, overshadowing the biological father. However, the biological link remains crucial. Indeed, children are not expected to call their uncle, father, or mother by their personal name, but by a term of kinship whose meaning (father, mother, uncle) relates to the facts of reproduction.
A Child’s Developing Sense of Origins
Reflecting on our conversation, I’m reminded of Jean Laplanche’s psychoanalytic theories. Laplanche argued that children are constantly interpreting the ‘enigmatic messages’ they receive from adults. These messages are unconscious, sexual, seductive. My daughter’s feelings toward these hypothetical biological fathers might thus be less about her biological past and more about her efforts to construct a coherent story that shapes her future and that of her descendants. For her, the idea of a “biological father” fills a gap in a narrative having to do with the facts of reproduction, which will condition the way she conducts her life and how she will go about having children of her own.
This interpretation resonates with the broader question of how and why human beings make sense of the world. The search for origins is not just biological but deeply psychological, tied to the human need to endure beyond our lifetime.
Concealed Ovulation and Paternal Uncertainty
Another fascinating aspect of human kinship is the evolutionary ambiguity of paternity. Unlike many animals, humans have concealed ovulation, meaning men cannot be certain about their biological offspring without modern technology. This has likely shaped human reproductive strategies, encouraging long-term pair bonding and social fatherhood rather than opportunistic mating.
In this context, it’s worth asking: do women have an unconscious awareness of their choice of a father for their children? This is relevant to the question of biological origins and the child’s theory of themselves. Her real father is the father their mother unconsciously (or semi-consciously) chose, not the one whose role was culturally assigned, or the man who ended up cooperating with their mother in raising the child.
This introduces the psychoanalytic element again: the daughter has inherited her mother’s ‘Jocasta complex’ of seeking a father through her children. As I speculate, this may have to do with the fact that we are self domesticated animals: we strive to control our offspring’s reproductive choices so as to maximise our descendants. This phylogenetic process is probably more effective if it remains unconscious.
The Psychological Weight of Parentage
Ultimately, my daughter’s reaction highlights the deeply symbolic nature of parenthood. Biology might play a role, but the feelings she describes—of sadness, love, and connection—are shaped by her developing sense of self and the cultural meanings attached to family. Parenthood, as humans experience it, is a fascinating interplay of biology, culture, and psychology.