My little one, shy and hesitant, nestled her head into my shoulder as we welcomed her grandparents, whom she hadn’t seen in over six months. They were excited for this reunion, but she clearly felt uncomfortable. With smiles on their faces, they reached out for her, but I could feel her tiny hands gripping my shoulder even tighter. The temptation to hand her over to them was strong, but I hesitated. The awkward “group hug” that followed felt like a violation of her personal space. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was letting her grandparents down; after all, they had driven almost 12 hours to see us. What if she never felt like hugging them? Would it break their hearts?
Despite these thoughts, my partner and I have made the decision not to force our children to show physical affection when they’re not comfortable, even if that means refraining from hugs or kisses directed at us. It’s tough to watch my daughter refuse to hug her dad when he comes home from work or at bedtime, especially because she showers me with affection throughout the day. Still, we never insist she comply.
Growing up as a polite Midwestern girl in the 1980s, I was raised to prioritize others’ feelings, often at the expense of my own comfort. I learned to be accommodating, to ensure everyone felt welcome. While I still believe in kindness and compassion, I’ve come to recognize that pressuring children to use their bodies to make others feel good can cause long-term harm. Forcing a distressed toddler or a reluctant 6-year-old into an embrace with someone who makes them uneasy doesn’t teach manners; it teaches them to ignore their own discomfort.
By allowing our children to choose who they hug, we empower them to take charge of their bodies. This approach not only promotes their comfort but also contributes to their safety. Workshops like Parenting Safe Children emphasize that letting kids establish their own boundaries around physical affection can help protect them from potential predators.
Some might think this is extreme, but the subtle messages we send can have profound effects. A girl feeling pressured to let her cousin cuddle when she doesn’t want to, or a boy enduring unwanted tickles from a neighbor, is a slippery slope toward more serious violations of personal space. Yes, we should learn to graciously accept gifts we don’t like and avoid bluntly criticizing Aunt Edna’s lasagna, but we draw the line at sacrificing our bodies for someone else’s comfort.
Teaching our children about the right to refuse affection has broader implications. It could help empower our daughters to make choices about their bodies and relationships as they grow. If young girls are socialized to please others through physical affection, they may struggle to say no when they want to. This mindset may even lead to unhealthy behaviors in adulthood, such as feeling compelled to engage in unwanted sexual encounters.
By breaking this cycle, we can foster healthier relationships for our children throughout their lives. They’ll be better prepared to set boundaries and teach their own children the importance of personal space. While Grandma and Grandpa might feel a bit disappointed, they can survive a playful wave or an air kiss, knowing it’s for the greater good of their grandkids. Who knows? Maybe next time my little one will run to them for a hug—on her own terms.
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