Each month we publish first-person stories from the people building the Promise Fund ecosystem—awardees, mentors, partners, and funders sharing what they’re learning, considering, and experiencing as they work to transform early childhood. This week, we hear from Promise Sandbox Awardee, Robert Harris, who shares his unique experience as a man working in the early childhood field. This relates directly to Robert’s Award project—The >3 Project, a program that creates a structured mentorship network pairing high school juniors and seniors with male ECE professionals, encouraging young men to see themselves as nurturers and caregivers. Robert brings 13 years of experience working in education, supporting behavioral health, mental health, and well-being for children, families, and staff.
Let me make this clear from the onset; this is a story of proximity leadership, change, and a willingness to invest in hope for an equitable future. Which is why it’s important to talk about unicorns. According to a Google search, unicorns in children’s media… are often magical horses with wise and gentle natures. Unicorns with their long flowing manes of various colors that run along rainbows are champions of the unique. In the book Pink is for Boys, there is a line that says “purple is for unicorns because….unicorns!” which seems to emphasize the message that unicorns are awesome simply because they are unicorns.
This is why I no longer want to be a unicorn.
From the onset of my journey in the field of education and its related services (mental health and behavioral health), I have found myself being likened to that of a unicorn on occasion—intended to be a compliment I presume. My personality traits were praised for their suitability for my work with children, and the applied assumption that they were rare among men. Like microaggressions for the minority, 13 years into the work of developing, education, and encouraging a healthier future for children I have found that I have on too many occasions been one of very few men who engage in the work of nurturing, developing, and caring for children from birth to age five. I was a unicorn.
Ever wonder how unicorns feel?
Maybe to the rest of the world the magic and allure that are associated with the unicorn are rare and awe inspiring. Yet to the rest of the unicorns, it might just be Sean, or J’davius (because in my narrative, unicorns have regular, everyday names…of people of color).
While I am unique, what I do is not. There are many men who have done what I am doing, and just haven’t been recognized yet. I just had the opportunity – maybe misfortune at times – to be in spaces where that seemed odd, and I was tired of that feeling. I was, and am, tired of the continued narrative that frames men as unique and rare figures in early childhood spaces. Which is why I decided to run a very meaningful race, albeit as a unicorn.
It was time to change the narrative and become one of many I’m sure who want to invest in the future of our children and create opportunities that dissolve stigma and promote equity. According to labor statistics, around less than 3% of the early childhood workforce are men. This is atrocious. So why not be a part of a solution that actively seeks to increase that data point? That was the question I asked myself. The answer is, there’s no reason not to be. So I decided to run. The challenge of running was figuring out where to run, and who would sponsor my entrance fee (hopefully not mixing too many analogies here). That’s where the folks at Promise came in. They looked at this unicorn and believed in its ability to run the race.
In truth, the folks at Promise didn’t just place the bet; they sought to ensure that I would have the training and tools necessary to run a meaningful and successful race as a unicorn. Which, at the time of this writing, is exactly what I’m doing. I’m running and I’m believing that there’s a chance to win, or at least be on the podium, as a unicorn. It is because of Promise that I believe there’s a very real opportunity to make a difference in the field of early childhood education for the better. It’s because of Promise that I believe that maybe someday, there’ll be no more unicorns and instead just a bunch of Seans, J’davius, Steves, Patricks, and Robs.
If you’d like to learn more or get in touch with Robert directly please fill out this interest form.
The research supports your argument here. Boys from father-absent homes show better academic performance and behavior when they have male teachers in early childhood settings. Stress tolerance increases measurably. That 2-3% male representation isn’t abstract. Real children miss developmental benefits because men avoid the field. This work matters.
The essay centers your experience as a “unicorn” instead of child outcomes. The stigma feels isolating. That’s genuine. But what children lose makes the stronger opening. Lead with welfare evidence. Present the representation gap. Identify stigma as what keeps men out. Then your narrative shows how that barrier actually functions.
Structured this way, it looks like career equity. The research frames it as child welfare.