Disclaimer: Dad, I know you prefer my essays short, but I couldn’t help it this time—this topic is too close to my heart, one I discuss broadly with both fathers and daughters. Because in many ways, I believe we are the daughters of a unique era, shaped by the generations before us who fought for independence. Navigating freedoms and responsibilities unprecedented in history, we are among the first in our family lines to embrace this level of autonomy—a privilege that comes with profound responsibility.

Let me clarify this statement. Dads, you’ve seen feminine independence evolve—from your own wives building their careers to the quiet strength of your mothers. What makes this era distinct is that women are no longer confined to prescribed roles. Whether we like it or not - referring broadly to women born in the last 40 to 50 years, now experiencing the peak of this transformative era. We are the first to live in a world where our choices are not solely defined by familial expectations or societal norms but by our own ambitions and desires.

The result? We are forging paths our grandmothers couldn’t have dreamed of and our mothers cautiously hoped for, actively reshaping the narrative of how you can live as a woman. The women around me are starting businesses, traveling alone to far-off places, building lives in other countries, pursuing ambitious career paths that were once out of reach, buying property, starting studies, and taking control of our finances in ways that allow us to build. Even when the actions are smaller, we are still shaping lives driven by our own personal, autonomous visions.

It’s hard to imagine now, but it’s true that for thousands of years, much of this decision-making was not our domain. Historically, the weighty, long-term choices that shaped not just years but entire lifetimes fell under the authority of fathers, brothers, and husbands, who charted family trajectories, made the plans, and controlled the "big picture." Even today, in many parts of the world—without casting judgment—this remains the case.

Pioneering is exhilarating, but undeniably exhausting. As women, we’re still adapting—biologically, mentally, and socially—to the demands of this newfound independence. Men have had centuries to cultivate autonomy and leadership, molding their minds and systems around these roles. For us, however, the shift is still fresh. Our instincts, rooted in connection and care, now vie for balance within the liberties we’re learning to claim.

Being the first means there’s no roadmap. With this freedom comes an avalanche of decisions: where to live, how to grow, what to save, whether to change jobs or pursue further studies—the choices feel endless. We improvise, much like our grandmothers did, often bearing the weight of expectations—both our own and those imposed upon us.

And here, dear dads, is where they play the part. Traditionally, fathers acted as protectors and gatekeepers, their authority seldom challenged and their time often consumed by work. This often left them less involved in the daily rhythms of life. Today you are needed differently. It’s that voice wiser than that of peers, partners, or friends, refined by the patience of time and the weight of experience. Close enough to offer guidance, yet generationally distant enough to avoid dominating.

At least, this is my personal experience. My own father has been my compass in moments when I felt lost in the vastness of adulthood. When partners or lovers faltered, when I doubted my path, he was the one reminding me of my strength. It was his rational, pragmatic outlook that tempered my emotionally charged decisions, grounding me in the “bigger picture” when I felt untethered, or in moments when I simply didn't felt ready for this modern female independence.

Beyond placing all of the dads of this age in a broader narrative, there's much more to share about my own. Those who know us best often say how alike my dad and me are. We both thrive on finding creative ways to navigate the world—whether it’s tackling challenges, understanding systems or mapping new adventures—always inspiring each other to be our best in our own little worlds. We have a mutual drive and restlessness. My dad and I are wired for it, we always have been.

Where he surpasses me in his ability to remain optimistic and steady through life’s highs and lows. Sometimes life aligns, other times it doesn’t. He held the highest positions imaginable, yet also applied for jobs at Albert Heijn when life handed you different fruits, telling me this years later, so I would not worry. The resilience and ability to make the best of things, always push boundaries, having that sense that everything will be alright in the end, is where he guides me most.

The pushing boundaries thing came in all sorts of amusing ways though, together diving headfirst into random ventures—some successful, others spectacularly less so. From my teenage years, when I made fake IDs for friends, to expeditions through the dense jungles of Suriname, scooter rides across Indonesia, academic field trips in Italy, skiing, sailing, finding the weirdest international genres in music, family archive searches, buying an incredible (but ancient) car—only to have it catch fire on the highway an hour later. And that’s just scratching the surface.

Many other memories come to mind with friends, other family and my sister joining in. Family dinners, sushi nights, gardening, doing yoga together in front of the home TV to an old-school ’80s aerobics video, his documentary premiere, Amsterdam lunches, proud 10km countryside walks always logged into Strava, house viewings in Ibiza—or now that I think about it, house viewings in so many other places too.

Why we are always drawn to viewing houses and visiting places is simple - we like to read space. What it was in the past, what it represents today and what it can become. We instinctively walk into a space and envision how it could be utilized or repurposed in countless ways—operationally, aesthetically, commercially, and socially. We both utilize this in our professions today. My favorite memories? I still remember him taking me to his business meetings of his clients—on the repurposing of Paleis Noordeinde, the adaptive reuse of an old fort; discussing plans to establish a new hotel in one location, a co-working restaurant on the roof of an office building, or a hotel next to The Hague Station. There I was, a kid sitting among all those serious adults, listening to discussions that didn’t always make sense - but I loved it all.

Much of what I do today and where I put my energy—the studies I took on, the practicing of my own business and the courage to live in a country I didn’t grow up in, is built upon what he has guided me into. Yet, we also struggle with the moral aspects of it, frequently questioning whether interpreting or reimagining a space is justified. Discussions about colonization and the consequences of taking ownership or redefining spaces are topics we discuss often together. Thankfully, not all our conversations are serious. We chat daily about everything—news, music, art, history, funny memes, or our shared dream of building homes under the sun. Who could have imagined this back when I was a tiny, shrimp-shaped baby cradled in his arms, just like in that old photo?

Let’s balance it out. We haven’t always been smooth sailing—that wouldn’t tell the whole story. There is a fair share of disagreements too. I know him well enough to guess he might not even appreciate the sentimental, pedestal-placing tone of this essay—just as I often find myself at odds with his writing style, or other things my father does. He’s certainly a character—hard to miss, as he likes to be in the picture—with his many friends, achievements, and endless projects. He’s always the one striking up a conversation, effortlessly likable. But he’s not perfect—no one is. He’s made mistakes, taken on projects I didn’t agree with, and sometimes upset me, my mom, my sister, and others in his life.

Another less radiant memory: he fell ill. I became his caretaker, moved south for a little while to live with him. I stepped into a role traditionally filled by a partner, but in their absence, it fell to me. It was a time of vulnerability for us both—him, resisting care out of pride; and me, learning to navigate the delicate boundaries between parent and child, giver and receiver. It came with its share of scary moments, uncomfortable challenges, and the complexities of family dynamics.

When I returned to my metropolitan bubble, surrounded by jumpy peers full of modern ambitions, back into my modern female independent role, I began to appreciate the depth of intergenerational bonds. At the same time, I realized that the dad-daughter partnership as I frame it in this essay isn’t entirely new—the ground for it is as old as time. Because unlike the fast, transactional connections that define everyone’s youth, our bond is rooted in growing alongside each other—through shared ideas, stories, experiences, vulnerabilities, and highs and lows that come with it.

Living in a non-Western country for some time has taught me the value of complementarity between genders. It made me realize that as western daughters, we are products of a culture that champions individualism and independence. In our pursuit of self-reliance and feminine freedom, we sometimes overlook what we might be leaving behind and how we function best—even if that might be considered ‘traditional.’ We think we need this female independence as the meaningful cornerstone of our modern lives, but why not rethink how we can work together?

Rather than solely celebrating female independence in isolation, there’s immense value in appreciating the unique strengths that both men and women contribute. By doing so, we preserve intergenerational wisdom and the distinctive balance that traditional gender partnerships bring—where the perspectives of men and women complement and enhance each other, whether as partners, family members, or colleagues. The bond I have with my father reminds me of that balance. His perspective as a man from another generation has shaped my understanding, showing me how connection between ages and genders offers something this independence we enjoy as daughters alone cannot.

We are the daughters of a new age, but we stand on the shoulders of giants. These giants today have the chance to forge a new kind of relationship with their daughters. A type of fatherhood that feels new yet deeply traditional—one rooted in the meeting of masculine and feminine across generations. It sparks all kinds of interactions, from lighthearted adventures to envisioning the bigger picture—much like fathers have traditionally done, but now rooted in collaboration, while we are busy figuring out this independence thing. My dad took that chance, and for that, I am forever grateful. To the dads of this world: take your role seriously. Guide us, support us, and let us guide you too.