𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐖𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 𝐀𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

Please allow me to keep my Scholar-Practitioner cap on a little longer.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐎𝐟𝐟

In my previous reflection, I examined the tension between what parents believe they have given and what their children believe they have received. Drawing on Barry Johnson’s polarity management framework, I argued that many intergenerational parenting tensions aren’t problems to solve permanently but dilemmas that require ongoing management.

I shared three experiences: a community elder, a senior book club, and a family devotion. The third was the most personal and the most revealing. My children challenged my interpretation of our generation’s sacrifices. I argued that we had given them what we never received; they spoke instead about emotional disconnection and the lasting consequences of growing up feeling inadequately heard.
We disagreed.

I requested an adjournment.
But an adjournment is not a resolution. Sometimes it merely gives us enough distance to examine what we were unwilling to confront while the conversation was still heated. I keep thinking about that encounter, and one uncomfortable question refuses to leave me.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

Every generation measures sacrifice differently. For many African parents, especially those raised in Nigeria during periods of economic hardship, political uncertainty, and limited opportunity, parenting meant providing, disciplining, educating, and preserving the family’s reputation. Love was frequently demonstrated through responsibility.

A father worked relentlessly to pay school fees. A mother gave up personal comfort to keep the household running. Parents endured indignities so their children could have opportunities they never enjoyed. These were substantial sacrifices, and I know something about them.

Yet sacrifice creates an interesting psychological dilemma. The person making the sacrifice often measures its value by what they gave up. The beneficiary measures its value by what was experienced.

𝐀 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭.

𝐀 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩.

The two memories need not contradict each other, but they do not necessarily tell the same story. A father might remember working sixteen hours to provide for his family. His child might remember waiting sixteen hours for a conversation that never happened. Both accounts might be true, and that’s the dilemma.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧

Many of us inherited a parenting philosophy in which love was understood rather than explained. Our parents rarely needed to announce their affection; their sacrifices were supposed to speak for them. Unfortunately, sacrifices do not always speak a language children understand.

A child who receives excellent education, comfortable accommodation and material security might still struggle with the absence of emotional affirmation. This does not make the child ungrateful, and it does not make the parent unloving. It reveals a possible difference between the language in which love is expressed and the language in which it is received.

A caution belongs here. We should not romanticize emotional expression while dismissing material provision, for a child who feels emotionally understood but lacks essential care faces a different form of deprivation. Both matter. The challenge is understanding how much of each is required, at what stage of development, and under what circumstances.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐖𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝

In many Nigerian households, questioning parental decisions was not always encouraged. People often showed respect through compliance; silence could signal good upbringing; even respectfully expressed disagreement risked being seen as rebellion. We inherited these conventions, sometimes without examining their consequences.

To be fair, they served certain purposes. They reinforced family hierarchy, set behavioural expectations, and helped parents maintain order in households where survival often demanded discipline. But a practice might have served one generation without remaining adequate for another. The difficulty arises when we mistake a parenting method’s historical usefulness for its permanent correctness.

A child who obeys without questioning does not necessarily understand. Likewise, a child who questions is not necessarily disrespectful. The ability to distinguish inquiry from insolence might be one of the most important competencies for contemporary parents — and I suspect many of us are still learning it.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤

Today’s younger generation has a vocabulary many of us did not have growing up. They speak about emotional safety, boundaries, validation, childhood experiences and psychological well-being. Some parents hear these terms and conclude that the younger generation has become excessively sensitive; some younger people hear their parents defend traditional discipline and conclude that the older generation is emotionally unavailable. Both conclusions merit scrutiny.

The ability to describe emotional harm is valuable, but having the vocabulary of emotional well-being does not automatically confer emotional maturity. Equally, enduring hardship does not prove it was beneficial. Our generation sometimes confuses endurance with healing; the younger generation sometimes risks confusing expression with resolution.

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠.
𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞

Many parents feel wounded when children criticize the upbringing they invested substantial resources, energy and personal sacrifice into. I understand that feeling; it is hard to hear complaints from someone you believe you gave so much to. But perhaps we need to distinguish gratitude from agreement.

A child might appreciate a parent’s sacrifices while disagreeing with the parent’s methods. A parent might deserve recognition for sincere effort while remaining accountable for avoidable mistakes.

𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫

During the family discussion that inspired these reflections, my children spoke about emotional disconnection. I initially interpreted their concerns through the lens of the sacrifices our generation had made. On further reflection, I wonder whether my response illustrated the very difficulty they described.

They were speaking about their experiences; I was explaining our intentions. They described how certain things felt; I explained why certain things happened. Both perspectives mattered, but we were not necessarily addressing the same question.

Perhaps listening requires more than allowing another person to finish speaking. It requires resisting the immediate urge to defend ourselves, which is difficult for parents accustomed to explaining, correcting, and guiding. Parenthood establishes responsibilities, but those responsibilities do not confer immunity from error. Our children do not become incapable of valid observations simply because we brought them into the world. Neither does adulthood automatically make their interpretations complete or infallible. The goal should be mutual understanding rather than unconditionally accepting either account.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬

When correcting the excesses of authoritarian parenting, we should avoid creating a philosophy that treats parental authority as inherently suspect. Children need affection, but they also need boundaries; they need room to express themselves, yet they must learn responsibility for their words and actions. The challenge is to maintain authority without humiliation, discipline without hostility, and emotional openness without surrendering parental responsibility. This brings us back to polarity management. The inherited model emphasizes authority, continuity and duty; the corrective model emphasizes emotional connection, autonomy and dialogue. Each offers something important, and each becomes problematic when pursued to the exclusion of the other.

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Perhaps our greatest challenge is accepting that improvement does not mean completion. We might have raised our children with more opportunities, greater financial security, and less physical punishment than we experienced. These improvements deserve acknowledgment. But doing better than our parents in some areas does not prove we did enough in every area.

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

If our children identify emotional needs we overlooked, we should listen before constructing our defence. We might still disagree with their conclusions, but disagreement reached after genuine listening differs substantially from disagreement reached before understanding.

𝐓𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Your experiences matter, and your concerns deserve serious attention. But your parents are also shaped by their upbringing, social environment, personal struggles, and imperfect understanding. Some are learning emotional skills they were never taught; some are trying to correct patterns they inherited without adequate models; some have made mistakes they regret but struggle to acknowledge. Recognizing these realities does not require you to excuse harmful behaviour or abandon reasonable boundaries. It asks you to distinguish imperfect love from deliberate indifference where the evidence supports such a distinction and to recognize sincere change when it occurs. Reconciliation requires accountability, but sustainable reconciliation also requires a willingness to recognize growth.

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐔𝐬

I began with a question: Did we give our children everything except what they needed emotionally? I do not believe the answer is a universal yes, and we should resist turning individual experiences into universal judgments. What is increasingly difficult to dispute is that parental sacrifice alone cannot adequately evaluate parenting. We must also consider children’s experiences. And perhaps the most difficult lesson for my generation is this:

𝐖𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬.

I still believe we moved the needle. I also believe the needle has further to move. My children and I have unfinished business from our birthday conversation, and I hope we will return to it with greater patience, less defensiveness, and a willingness to hear what the other person is trying to communicate.

Because sometimes the greatest evidence of parental wisdom is not having the final word.
𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧.

𝐀 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐓𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: What have your children told you about their upbringing that you initially rejected but later reconsidered?

𝐓𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧: What sacrifices or limitations of your parents have you come to understand differently as you have grown older?

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬.

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