Is Your Child Afraid of You?

When Fear Wears the Mask of Respect

There’s a certain silence that enters the room when a child hears their parent’s footsteps.
Not the silence of reverence, but the kind that tightens the chest.
The kind that makes a child hide their mistake instead of own it.
A silence too many of us knew growing up, and one that too many of our children now live with.

We’ve been told it’s respect.
That when a child lowers their gaze, doesn’t speak back, jumps at your voice, or becomes small in your presence, they’re being raised well.

But let’s be honest.
It’s not always respect. Sometimes it’s fear.
And we need to talk about it.

The Fear We Normalised

Many of us were raised on a healthy dose of fear, served warm with a side of stew.
Fear that had us scrambling to wipe the table the moment we heard the gate creak or the car horn.
Fear that stopped us from asking “why” because that one word could land us a “hot one”.
Fear that taught us to rehearse our answers before speaking.

The house rules were clear:

• Speak only when spoken to

• Cry, but quietly

• Ask no questions

• Never, ever say no

We survived it. Some say it built character.
But at what cost?

Because now we are the parents, and we are realising that fear and respect are two very different things.

Fear Shrinks. Respect Builds.

Respect listens. Fear hides.
Respect brings closeness. Fear builds walls.
Respect says, "I trust you enough to tell you the truth."
Fear says, "I must protect myself from you."

Ask yourself this:
Can your child come to you and confess something hard?
Can they admit they messed up without expecting thunder and brimstone?
Do they feel heard, or do they perform obedience so they don’t get in trouble?

Are they well-behaved because they understand the why?
Or because they are scared not to be?

How Did We Get Here?

We didn’t invent fear-based parenting. We inherited it.
Handed down like a family recipe no one dares rewrite.
It came wrapped in survival, colonial trauma, rigid religion, and a need to control what felt chaotic.

We took it because our elders took it.
And now we’re holding the baton in one hand, the weight of our childhood in the other, wondering what to do with both.

The truth is, many of us want different.

We want children who are grounded, not afraid.
Who respect us, and feel safe with us.
Who know consequences, but also know compassion.

Ọ bụrụ na e jighị nwatakịrị n'aka, ọ ga-ere obodo ọkụ.

"If a child is not embraced by the village, they will burn it down to feel its warmth."

If we do not give our children safe spaces to be seen, heard, and held, they will disappear into silence or erupt in rebellion.
Neither one is the goal.

So yes, there is another way.
A way where correction comes with context.
Where children can be vulnerable without fearing they’ll be crushed.
Where we can say sorry to our kids and mean it.
Where discipline is not laced with humiliation.

It is not soft. It is sacred.
It is slow. It is strong.
It is the intentional work of raising children who do not just obey rules but understand their worth.

Let the Slipper Rest

It’s time to retire some of the phrases we wore like uniforms:
"I’m not your mate."
"Because I said so."
"You must fear me to learn from me."

Did they really help us? Or did they simply harden us?

Respect does not require silence. It requires safety.
Discipline should never break a spirit. It should shape a heart.

If your child is afraid of you, the goal is not shame.
The goal is better.
Better communication. Better connection. Better parenting.

You are not alone in this work. You are not failing because you're asking questions.
You are growing. You are healing. You are parenting on purpose.

Let them look you in the eye without trembling.
Let them speak up without flinching.
Let them tell the truth and still feel loved.

That is the legacy worth passing on.

📥 Want to start that shift today?

Download our free - Parenting with Love Starter Kit
It’s the first step to building safety, not silence.

With love, rice, and responsible parenting
- The African Parent