The Karate Kid’s Guide to Fatherlessness
I cannot remember the first time I saw The Karate Kid, the original, not the arguably poor remake with Jackie Chan. What I do remember is being drawn into the action and the satisfaction of seeing the bullies get what they deserved. Perhaps this is what initially drew me to martial arts, but more important is what the story reveals about relationships and fatherlessness.
Watching the films again as an adult, and following the Cobra Kai series, it becomes clear that the story is not completely about karate. Karate is the vehicle for something deeper, the bond between Mr. Miyagi and Daniel LaRusso, which fills a gap left by Daniel’s absent father. Daniel struggles with anxiety and conflicting emotions after losing his father at a young age and moving to a new city, while Johnny Lawrence, the original bully, grapples with his own fatherless issues, seeking guidance from his aggressive sensei, John Kreese.
Cobra Kai flips the script a bit by focusing on Johnny and revealing his own struggle with lack of a good father figure. The series humanizes him and other characters by showing how fatherlessness shapes their behavior and choices. The television format allows this approach, showing not just what the characters do, but why they act as they do. We get to see their search for respect, moral guidance, and boundaries, which are traditionally provided by fathers.
Mainstream pop culture rarely portrays fathers as moral influencers. Sitcoms such as Home Improvement and Everybody Loves Raymond frequently depict fathers as bumbling comic relief, while shows such as Family Guy often glorify absentee fatherhood. This minimizes the real impact fatherlessness has on children. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, one in four children in the United States lives without a biological, step, or adoptive father in the home. Stories such as Cobra Kai effectively illustrate the emotional and moral gaps this absence can create.
So how does this series address this issue? Despite opposing and often despising one another, the characters share a consistent search for the respect, structure, morality, and boundaries traditionally provided by a father. This was epitomized in the character of Mr. Miyagi who is raised up to this level of moral excellence while still being grounded in humility and discipline. Mr. Miyagi was this constant in the narrative, being highly respected by those willing to learn from his character and example. Even for characters who never met him directly, Miyagi’s influence endures through those he directly impacted and through what he represented that is foundational to success as family, biological or otherwise.
While it would be misguided to look to a film or television character as our measure of morality, that is left to a much higher power and standard, the solution to issues like fatherlessness can and should be addressed in modern pop culture. What we consistently view has a powerful influence on how we think, act and relate to others. In modern pop culture, do fathers need to be portrayed as vital, respected, and necessary figures, roles best filled by individuals whose character embodies the wisdom, discipline, and humility of Mr. Miyagi or the like?

I really like how you frame The Karate Kid and Cobra Kai as stories about fatherlessness more than karate. Once you point it out, it’s clear that every character is really searching for guidance, boundaries, and belonging. Mr. Miyagi becomes the emotional anchor of the whole universe, not because he’s perfect, but because he offers the steadiness the others never had.
ReplyDeleteYour point about how pop culture usually treats fathers really landed with me too. So many sitcom dads are written as clueless or irrelevant, and that absolutely shapes how we think about fatherhood in real life. That’s why Cobra Kai feels refreshing. It actually shows the emotional fallout of growing up without that support.
Your final question is a good one. If pop culture helped normalize the “absent or goofy dad” trope, maybe it can help rebuild a different narrative. I’m curious how audiences would respond to more complex, emotionally grounded portrayals of fatherhood, not perfect men, just present ones.
Would people embrace that shift, or are we still more comfortable with the joke version of dads?