My dad was a very strong man, very stubborn as well.

"My dad was a very strong man, very stubborn as well." So spoke Paul Pogba, a son reflecting upon the roots of his own strength. In those few words lies a story as old as humankind: the inheritance of will, of pride, of resilience passed from father to son like an unbroken flame. To call a man both strong and stubborn is to name him as both a rock and a storm—a man unyielding before life’s tides, who holds to his convictions even when the winds of the world cry for surrender. Such men are not gentle rivers—they are mountains. They do not bend easily, but their presence shapes those who walk beside them.

In every age, there have been fathers whose strength becomes their children’s foundation. The strength of such a man is not only in muscle or command, but in his steadfast heart—in his refusal to bow before adversity. Yet with that strength often comes stubbornness, the fierce insistence that one must hold true to one’s beliefs. To some, this is a flaw; to others, it is the very essence of integrity. For without stubbornness, strength is easily swayed. And without strength, stubbornness is but arrogance. But when the two dwell in harmony, they forge a soul that endures through generations.

Think of Socrates, who drank the hemlock rather than betray his conscience. Was he not stubborn in the eyes of his accusers? Yet that stubbornness, born of moral strength, gave birth to a legacy of truth that outlived kings and empires. Or recall the tale of Mahatma Gandhi, whose quiet but immovable will faced the might of an empire. His strength was not in violence, but in conviction; his stubbornness, not in pride, but in principle. Such men teach us that what the world calls obstinacy may, in truth, be the courage to stand alone for what is right.

Pogba’s words, though spoken of his own father, reach far beyond his family. They speak of the generations who came before—the fathers who crossed oceans, who worked long days in silence, who taught through example rather than speech. They were stubborn in their dreams, unwilling to yield to despair. They were strong not only in body but in spirit, carrying their burdens with quiet dignity. And from their resilience, their children learned to rise, to persist, to believe.

There is, too, a gentler wisdom hidden in Pogba’s remembrance. For every child who calls his father stubborn speaks also of love—for stubbornness often hides deep care, a desire to protect, to guide, to ensure that the next generation stands taller than the last. The strong father may not always speak softly, but his lessons endure like carvings in stone. He may not yield easily, but his firmness becomes the seed of confidence in his children’s hearts. Such men are like oak trees: their roots deep, their shade enduring, their will unbroken.

And yet, the wise must learn from both strength and stubbornness. For there comes a time when one must stand firm, and a time when one must bend. The lesson of Pogba’s quote is not merely admiration, but reflection—that we inherit both the virtues and the challenges of those who raise us. The strong man teaches courage; the stubborn man teaches persistence. But it falls to us to balance these gifts, to temper strength with mercy, conviction with humility.

So let each of us look upon the memory of those who shaped us—our fathers, mothers, mentors, or elders—and see not their flaws, but their fire. Let us be strong in our purpose, yet wise enough to listen; stubborn in our dreams, yet humble before truth. For as Pogba reminds us, every great soul is born from the spirit of those who came before, and to honor them is to live with the same courage that they once carried through life. In the end, may our children one day say of us, as he said of his father: “They were strong, and yes—stubborn as well.”