From the age of 9, I was always battling with a poorly executed perm. My mother, exhausted from trying to manage my fine, unruly hair, decided that a home perm was the ultimate answer. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
I ended up looking like a Chia Pet from the 1980s. My hair endured the torture of tight pink rollers that left my scalp begging for mercy. The unpleasant smell of the chemicals made me gag. After a lengthy rinse in the kitchen sink, I would gaze at my curly reflection and think, “Well, I guess this is the best I can do.”
The underlying message I absorbed, though one my mother never intended to convey, was that something was inherently wrong with me and my natural hair. I took this belief to heart without ever questioning it. This leads to my continued quest to perm my hair into a frazzled state well into my early adulthood.
During the Dynasty era, bigger was considered better—not only in hair but also in shoulder pads and boom boxes. Many girls around me flaunted their gravity-defying frizz, but for me, the drive to maintain my curls was rooted in the belief that my natural hair was unacceptable. My mother never expressed this sentiment, yet I felt it deeply.
As a mom today, I strive to avoid sending similar unspoken messages to my daughters. It’s a challenge, I won’t lie. Sometimes, we unintentionally slip in subtle critiques. However, it’s crucial to think about how our words will be interpreted before we share our opinions.
For example, when I said, “Are you sure you want to wear the green plaid shorts with the pink-and-black zebra stripe shirt? I might rethink that, honey. No?” what my daughter heard was: “You believe my outfit is ugly, and I’m too childish to choose my own clothes.”
Similarly, when I remarked, “Um, the side ponytail is … maybe a little messy,” she interpreted it as: “You think my hairstyle is dumb.”
Another instance was when I pointed out, “I can see your butt crack in those jeans.” My daughter’s response in her mind was: “You think I’m too fat for my pants.”
When I asked, “When is the last time you washed your hair?” she heard only criticism. Or when I commented, “Your friend wears her cutoffs a little high on the leg,” she thought: “You think my friend is inappropriate.”
Even when I suggested, “Maybe if you saved your allowance like your sister instead of spending it on junk, you could buy a cool new Lego set too,” what she heard was: “You think my sister is better than you.”
These examples are just a few instances of my misguided attempts to guide my daughters. Parenting is about providing direction, but there’s a fine line between guidance and harsh critique. Our kids often take our assessments to heart, even when they respond with sass.
As I gently comb through my youngest daughter’s fine, tangled hair after her shower, I swallow the urge to shout, “Let’s just cut it all off!” I do dislike the tangles, but it’s her hair—it grows the way it’s meant to. And when it comes to my daughters’ true selves, I wouldn’t change a thing.
For more insights on home insemination, check out our blog on home insemination kits and learn how to navigate the journey of parenthood. Additionally, Make a Mom offers valuable information about fertility tools. And for comprehensive resources on pregnancy, visit the CDC’s page on assisted reproductive technology.
In summary, our words can carry unintended weight, and it’s essential to be mindful of how our messages may be interpreted. As parents, we can offer guidance without inadvertently planting seeds of self-doubt.