Growing up, my upbringing was steeped in the “children should be seen and not heard” philosophy, courtesy of my father. If my siblings and I ever noticed our parents making mistakes, it was best to keep quiet. We quickly learned that voicing our observations could lead to harsh consequences, whether it was a stern reprimand in public or a spanking at home.
In those moments, I often felt resentment toward my father. His strictness and unwavering belief in his correctness suffocated our voices. I’d visit friends who enjoyed freedom in their homes—choosing their breakfast, decorating their rooms, and even getting their ears pierced. It was liberating to witness children who were not only seen but also heard.
Reflecting on our family’s dynamics, I understand that my father’s rigid upbringing in a large Southern Baptist family, coupled with his military background, shaped his need for control. He often paraded around declaring, “I’m always right” and “real men don’t cry,” which, while giving him a sense of authority, left my siblings and me feeling voiceless, a sentiment that extended into our adult relationships.
I remember one particular night after a high school dance when my father picked me up, clearly under the influence. I stayed silent, dreading the repercussions of speaking up. That experience was pivotal; it cemented my resolve to parent differently. I wanted to nurture confident children who felt safe voicing their opinions, especially when I was wrong—because let’s be honest, we all make mistakes.
Some might interpret my son’s insistence that I’m taking the wrong route to a familiar destination as disrespect, but I see it differently. It’s about encouraging him to stand firm in his beliefs and speak up, not just for himself but for others.
I appreciate when my kids call me out on my behavior. For instance, if I’m in a bad mood and snapping at them, they aren’t shy about reminding me how my mood affects the household. After all, I’ve consistently told them not to let their frustrations spill over onto innocent bystanders, yet I find myself doing just that on tough days.
I was particularly proud of my daughter when she persistently addressed a missing assignment on her student portal, refusing to redo it just because a teacher overlooked it. Had I faced such a situation with my father, I likely would have kept quiet and complied without question.
I don’t claim to have all the answers or authority in our household. On the contrary, I often need reminding of my own shortcomings. I aspire to teach my kids that it’s acceptable to be wrong and that one can challenge authority respectfully.
Most importantly, I hope that by encouraging them to call me out, they gain the confidence to speak up about crucial issues—whether it’s a social injustice or personal boundaries. Plus, I can’t tell you how often they’ve halted my indulgences in ice cream or chips, reminding me of the consequences that follow. They definitely won’t be offering sympathy when I complain about my gastrointestinal distress.
In both trivial matters and significant issues, our children deserve to be heard, and it is our responsibility as parents to provide them with that space.
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In summary, fostering a culture of open dialogue and encouraging our children to speak up not only strengthens our relationships but also equips them with the confidence to navigate the world assertively.
Keyphrase: Parenting and Open Dialogue
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