As an African daughter we were usually expected to suppress the soft sides of ourselves. Our parents never necessarily told us this directly they just simply taught us what it meant to be a strong, respectful, quiet or humble women. As children we were raised by parents who survived an immense amount of atrocities and traumas but did not open up to us or anyone about these experiences. Therefore, when they parented us emotionally their actions were often seen as disciplinary rather than tender and they did not provide explanations, their actions were often done out of love not through language.
For the majority of African parents emotional, physical and social interactions was a luxury which they did not formally know how to perform. With many parents surviving through poverty, war, religious judgment and uncertainties emotions were often not understood. Many parents had to focus on making a living and that stress caused them to be focused mainly on providing nourishment and shelter thus they used their acts of love such as feeding, providing shelter as a way to express their love instead of showing affection.
Today, however we are a generation that is plagued by a lack of emotional literacy. We are learning how to communicate our feelings, establish boundaries, express disappointment, request reassurance and to accept love without being suspicious of its motive. We are learning that love can come in many forms without being in your face, that strength can come in softness and that love can come through a willingness to learn from pain.
To begin healing the African daughter involves recognising the emotional pain that is inflicted upon family members and placing names on the injuries inflicted so that they do not keep happening. For many African daughters, their mothers were denied the opportunity to enjoy womanhood. Instead they were forced into being mothers from the time they were girls. Many fathers were raised in an environment where they were conditioned to believe that being silent was considered masculine and keeping their distance showed respect. Therefore it is not surprising that most fathers were never taught how to offer emotional support to their children because their parents did not know how to provide any sort of emotional support to them.
So how do we visualise healing as African daughters?
Healing appears to be understanding and being able to articulate one’s feelings. An example of this is saying I felt hurt, I need affection or I feel anxious. Another example would be being able to express and articulate what you feel instead of attempting to minimise the feeling to prove to others that you are strong. Healing also appears to be learning how to self-parent and that is teaching ourselves to be loving, gentle, safe and joyful in the manner in which our parents were unable to demonstrate these feelings toward us when we were children.
In addition, healing appears to involve establishing personal boundaries that allow love to flourish without comprising oneself and protecting yourself from guilt for having created those boundaries. Healing also entails forgiving yourself for the pain you have suffered through your parents and grandparent’s actions but forgiving them for their actions so that you can move on from these past experiences and not be burdened with resentment or anger.
Ultimately, healing as an African daughter centres around the breaking of the legacy or inheritance that has affected your family through all generations. The same way that you inherit trauma, you inherit the capability of healing. We are fortunate to have access to the knowledge and resources associated with emotional presence, therapeutic language, reflection, self awareness and gentleness in our generation. One day, perhaps, the daughters of this generation will not require as much healing from their mothers as we have from ours.
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