In this article, I aim to conclude that a liberal approach provides the most efficient solution to the modern issue of drug use.

Early liberals believed that freedom necessitated being left alone by the state. This notion was founded by the belief that individuals should be free to chase their own interests without external interference, provided they do not violate the rights of others. The state’s involvement was limited, focusing on protecting life, liberty, and property. This perspective is reinforced by he idea of negative liberty, which refers to the freedom from external constraints or interference on an individual’s actions. Conversely, positive liberty refers to the principle that the government should supply resources like education and healthcare to give people real freedom. the idea highlights the significance of creating conditions that foster personal development and autonomy. Positive liberty is often associated with the idea of self realization and is closely linked to the goal of social and political equality. However, by the late 19th century, the australian government realized that the invisible hand concept and the laissez faire approach was failing, resulting in severe poverty, unemployment, and lack of education, which individuals could not fix on their own. As a result, Australia moved toward a social liberal model, seeking to establish a society based on equality of opportunity and rights. An australian example of this is Medicare, which reflects social liberalism by functioning on the premise that the government has a responsibility to promote the general well-being by ensuring citizens have the necessary health required to participate in society. By funding and providing universal access to medical services and hospital care through general taxation and government intervention, Medicare removes the financial barriers that prevent people from achieving a basic standard of health. Classical liberals argue that taxing citizens to fund Medicare violates their property rights and limits their negative liberty by coercing them into providing for others. this whole belief is based on the concept of the invisible hand — if people are left alone to buy and sell freely, everything will sort itself out. They believe that competition and self interest in a free market makes everything sort itself, so they trust people and business to sort healthcare and education out themselves, leading to the belief that government intervention is harmful. Conversely, social liberals argue that without state help, the poor latch the positive liberty to live a meaningful life, so government intervention is necessary.

The Australian government should transition away from harsh drug restricting policies and towards a decriminalisation model because waging a war on drugs doesn’t uphold liberalism’s view of individuality. Intended to protect the community, criminalizing drug users has created what researchers call a poorly conceptualized, under researched, and little understood relationship between the supply and demand of illicit drugs and enforcement activities, consequentially leading to an inherently violent Hobbesian spectacle, where the lack of social and economic controls in illicit drug markets facilitate the spread of violence. Due to this, stereotypes have emerged to address the shortcomings in understanding, presenting drug users as addicts and people who can’t be saved. As Douglas Husak wrote:

‘Too much of our policy about illegal drug use is based on generalizations from worst case scenarios that do not conform to the reality of typical drug use. Society would not be economically productive if the tens of millions of people who have used drugs were all addicted.’

The lack of rule of law and established conflict resolution methods in illegal markets can result in cycles of violence. increasing the instability of these settings, violence functions to uphold informal regulations and ensure market stability when there are no government rules for these markets. The government’s role in the social contract regarding markets is to establish the political, economical, and regulatory frameworks necessary to guarantee that the economy operates efficiently, so that market failures don;t harm social fabric. However, criminalizing the drug markets has forced it into a state of nature where only the most violent survive because the invisible hand is weaponised. The government is unintentionally weakening the stability it is committed to protecting. Therefore, decriminalising the system is the only method to control the systemic violence produced by this illicit drug markets.

The harm principle is essential for the protection of our individual autonomy from government interference with our actions and body. This leads to the conclusion that drug users should never be criminalised, because liberal rights are built on the notion that the state has no authority to intervene in an individual’s private behavior unless that behavior poses a direct threat to the safety or rights of others. For example, an addict failing to meet work or home responsibilities does not mean he should be curbed from taking substances by the government because it is the individual’s choice to live that life. After all, if we argued that the decision to alter one’s physical and mental state was enough justification to prosecute an addict, caffeine and alcohol would not be as universally used as they are now. The decision to use a drug is vested in the individual, not politicians, and it is still commonly accepted that people have a fundamental moral right to consume whatever they want. Even if the majority thinks it is foolish or sinful, Mill argues that self harm is outside the realm of government interference because it is consented to by the person harmed and does not involve breaching anyone else’s rights.

Instead of taking drug users to jail, rehab and mental health support should be utilized as forms of positive liberty as they provide the necessary resources to restore an individual’s autonomy and gives them the freedom to live a self determined life. Addicts can often feel trapped, as if they're unable to follow through on their desire to quit, so treatment provides individuals with the tools to rebuild their decision making capabilities. By providing support, individuals are empowered to make choices that are genuinely their own instead of choices mandated by addiction. Positive liberty is provided as individuals can regain control over their own life, transforming them into slaves of chemical addictions or mental illnesses into autonomous agents capable of self determination.

While the tyranny of the majority often leads to harsh drug policies, a true liberal approach emphasizes individual autonomy and the rule of law. By moving from an uncontrolled black market to a model of decriminalization that promotes positive liberty, the state can fulfill it’s social contract. For Australia to regain the ability for self determination and safeguard the essential rights of every citizen, the harm principle must be reconciled with the offer of positive liberty.

Thanks for reading! xx

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In this article, I will be providing both a Freudian and Humanistic analysis of Lux Lisbon, a psychologically complex character whose depressing intersection of inner conflict leads to her mental decline and, eventually, her suicide.

From a Freudian perspective, Lux Lisbon’s character is marked by a deep and ultimately dangerous struggle between her internal urges and the strict moral standards of her surroundings. Her early actions, including her flirting with Peter at the dinner table and her hidden fixation on Kevin Haines illustrate the id pursuing instant gratification in a home governed by strict, tiger standards. Her ego initially acts as a functional mediator, attempting to satisfy the id’s desires while avoiding the super-ego’s restrictions imposed by her mother and to a lesser extent, her father. She balances these conflicting forces through secret rebellious actions and manipulation, which is evidenced by her doing things such as sneaking around to smoke cigarettes. Her ego is attempting to satisfy the id by letting her dabble in bad habits but also trying to satisfy the super-ego by making sure she doesn't get caught.

After the homecoming dance, Trip takes Lux on a walk to the football field, where they end up engaging in sexual intercourse. This encounter on the field serves as the ego’s attempt to find a realistic outlet for the id’s desires beyond the constraining rules of the superego. For a moment, Lux uses Trip to project her ego into a new reality, attempting to manifest her desired life where she is not a restricted Lisbon sister, but an independent young woman. However, while doing this, she is still operating from a mindset driven by fear and insecurity, most likely feeling like she is not enough without Trip. Trip then abandons her on the field, triggering an ego collapse where the external environment failed to provide necessary support. After this happens, the Ego, who was trying to balance her desire for freedom with her parents strict, extremely draconian rules, shatters under the weight of this trauma. The superego, which was the internal voice of her mother, most likely viewed the incident as a moral failure, leading to unbearable intra-psychic anxiety. After the abandonment, her behaviour changes significantly. Confined in her house and not being able to go to school, Lux turns to a youthful form of rebellion while demonstrating it through adult methods, illustrating her regression. Being unable to cope with the pain of being abandoned, Lux starts engaging in sexually reckless behavior, using physical intimacy (sleeping with random men on her roof) to drown out the emotional silence. This represents active displacement, where she takes her anger out at her mother and Trip by placing that onto an external object. She turns her internal psychological turmoil into outward actions, searching for a feeling so intense that it completely overrides her pain. It seems that Lux is not exactly focused on pursuing pleasure, but more so trying to reclaim authority over her body and her life. Her actions represent a suicidal cry for help, turning her into a hopeless girl who is mirroring the deterioration of her surroundings. After Lux exhausts every single route of escape (Trip, school, and rooftop), Lux finds herself back to the suffocation of her house. The final act of her suicide can be seen as a type of denial, in which the person fully dismisses a reality that the ego can no longer manage. It is the ultimate, sorrowful action of a self sabotaging defense mechanism that has reached it’s end. Her mental state leads her to the inescapable conclusion that the only way to escape this prison was through death in the garage, and she eventually uses the very thing that was meant to symbolize her youthful freedom (the car) to take her own life.

Lux can be viewed through a humanistic perspective as a disastrous breakdown of self actualization resulting from severe psychological pressure. Mrs Lisbon imposes strict conditions of worth, determining that her daughters are only worthy of her love if they stay pure and completely submissive to her harsh rules. Lux’s mother destroying her rock records and completely isolating the girls after Lux’s breach of curfew convey the message that autonomy and teenage actions are seen as immoral and of no good. Consequently, Lux discovered that she’s loved and is seen as good only when she’s confined to her prison of her home. This creates a significant gap between her true self and her ideal self. The promiscuity on the roof moments, where she engages in physical acts with different men during the lock down symbolize her disorderly efforts to embody her ideal self, which is a liberated, free, and independent teenager, while her self concept is constrained to the role of the restrained, perfect daughter. The difference between her public image in the house and her hidden and risky behaviour on the roof highlights the psychological gap between who she is allowed to be and who she yearns to be. In the end, it demonstrates that her self actualization was eventually stifled. Due to Mrs Lisbon providing only conditional love, Lux is unable to develop healthily. Like one of the gossiping women said early in the film:

‘That girl didn’t wanna die. she just wanted out of that house.’

The failure to close the large gap between her ideal self and her self concept led to a condition of complete incongruence. According to Rogers, when the surroundings become so inhibiting that growth can’t occur, the individual might prefer not existing rather than enduring a prolonged, distorted existence. Her ultimate, deadly suffocation in the car wasn’t a wish for death, but a total withdrawal from the world that denied her the fulfilment and self actualization she needed to live.

No single theory is sufficient to explain Lux’s collapse on it’s own. Together, these two perspectives capture the full complexity of her mental deterioration and shine light on the forces that converged to produce her tragic end.

Thanks for reading !

𖦹.✧˚ Adolescence is a time period of huge change in one’s identity dynamics. People’s experiences and interactions play a central part in shaping their self and social identity. People emerge feeling either confused or secure in their identity.

Adolescent development is shaped by a number of factors, particularly the experiences that came before adolescence, and the support someone receives going through adolescence. It’s characterized by a number of influences such as: family and cultural structures and beliefs, access to resources such as school, exposure to adversity, and social support. These factors directly affect how an individual undergoes adolescence.

As the ability to be adept at abstract thinking unfolds during the formal operational stage, teens start thinking more profoundly about who they want to be and where they fit in life. These include questions regarding their morals, career aspirations, sexuality, political and social views, personality, and interest. Erikson highlighted that most teenagers go through a psychological moratorium, which is putting off commitment to an identity while exploring options. James Marcia built on Erikson’s Identity Theory by adding two factors: commitment and exploration. He used commitment and exploration as key aspects to categorize individuals into four identity statuses: Identity acheivement, identity moratorium, identity foreclosure, and identity diffusion.

A stage common in many teens is identity diffusion, where an individual has little to no thoughts about exploring their identity, therefore having little to no sense of purpose in life. There’s also foreclosure, which is the status of those who have made a commitment to an identity but haven't explored the options, such as simply deciding to just adopt the morals, religion and beliefs learnt from one’s parents. But as a teenager goes through high school and eventually career aspirations, they move from diffusion and foreclosure toward moratorium and achievement. Senior schooling students are presented with a wider range of career opportunities, often sparking thoughts about where they wanna be in life. If someone is still in a stage of diffusion, it can feel like pressure to them.

These statuses significantly influence adolescents’ belief systems that are subsconsciously being formed as they form their identity, contributing to immense, personal changes.

In conclusion, the enormous changes we go through between 10 and 19 can be profoundly complicated, stressful, and hard to navigate. Our thinking, worldview, and immediate environment all play a part in this stressful journey towards achieving identity formation.

Since not many things have been stable, i’m going through some really turbulent phases in the formation of my identity as a teenager. I’ve gone through a significant change from being in a state of identity diffusion (along with poor habits and peer pressure) to realizing how to completely restructure my brain and my actions.

Understanding and learning about identity formation is important for all teenagers in order to grasp how their brains are functioning right now. I hope this article helps you achieve that in some way ˚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚˚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Are we normalising obsession? The song Not Allowed by Tv Girl reveals a profound insight into a toxic male mindset driven by unfulfilled desire and a sense of entitlement. This song is largely popular and is often used by people to express their vulnerability in situations where their love isn’t reciprocated. It’s a great song, but let’s dissect it so we completely understand the message it conveys.

The first lyric of the second verse of the song immediately delves into the speaker’s frustration and jealousy about unreciprocated feelings, as he states “I guess it started when you were with him”.

This longing quickly devolves into raw lust, evident when the speaker bluntly asks, “Did he fuck with your rhythm? Did he ever make you cum? Did he ever make you cry”, questions revealing a relationship that was rooted solely in lust and tension, devoid of genuine affection. These lyrics also reveal his twisted understanding of love and control. He believes he’s entitled to her simply because he’s obsessed with her.

This sense of entitlement escalates further when he states, “We wanna talk about sex but we’re not allowed. Well you may not like it but you better learn how.” He is not allowed to talk about sex with her because of her boundaries that he feels are unjustly imposed on him.

His entitlement has fully blossomed into a chilling disregard for her, as he brazenly asserts, “you may not like it but you better learn how”. These phrases, seemingly depicting frustration on the surface, unveil the truly toxic core.

The speaker’s psychological state appears derailed by the need for this girl, with lyrics suggesting, “do the wires in your mind get sewn together, rubbed and severed by the heat.” It also suggests that he’s wondering if his absence has affected her in any way. His obsession deepens as he confesses, “you don’t know how long I could stare into her pictures, and wish that it was me,” demonstrating his constant fantasising about her and also the need for control over her desire for him.

The words “I dreamt i was standing in your doorstep, licking sweat off of your forehead, with your finger in my mouth” reflect the alarming depth of this sick and twisted imagination. His subsconscious sexual dreams about licking sweat off her forehead with her finger in his mouth is about consuming; it’s an almost forceful intimacy. His dream reveals a more disturbing layer of his sick and twisted imagination.

The lyrics “and I’m starting to suspect, you don’t intend to do anything you say at all” emphasize on how the speaker manipulates the narrative to depict her as deceitful just because she fails to meet his expectations. It functions as an internal justification.

The core societal expectation illustrated in the song is:

“I love you. I’m obsessing over you, and that should be a good enough reason for you to love me back. You NEED to love me back.”

This mindset justifies obsession through the lens of lust. This toxic understanding of love has unfortunately been deeply ingrained in many people due to the romanticisation of them through apps like Tiktok, such as obsessing and stalking people.

Consequently, people have become ignorant to the hurt these dynamics enable. Victims of this weird, twisted form of obsessive love are often villainised, no matter what they do. Appreciating songs for their meaning has turned into romanticising those meanings and living by them, but it is not supposed to be so. The mission ahead is not romanticising those narratives, but dissecting them, so we can understand the lengths people go to when desperate to feel wanted.

When I first listened to this song, I would see myself in the lyrics. I was innocent and young, of course, so it wasn’t in a manipulative way — just innocent teenage longing. But i’ve confronted the true meaning of this song — and now i realise how this mindset can become dangerous if kept unchecked.

I believe that generational identity is the dominant influence compared to purely individual experiences.

The generational location of a group affect how the individuals within it understand basic things within themselves. Due to shared collective responses and reactions to major historical events that happen within a generation, subgroups are formed (generational units). Within these subgroups emerges different collective responses, often being the backbone of conflict due to different individual perspectives and outlooks. The very reason for generational units is the response to a shared generational event. As in, the generational context sets the stage for everyone’s individual responses.

The Nigerian Civil War, a product of generational actuality, created a shared, fundamental experience for those who lived through it during their formative years. Whether they were civilians or soldiers, igbo or yoruba, rich or poor, their need for survival directly influenced their worldview by shifting their views on certain values or what needed to be prioritised. The collective reaction to the displacement and trauma of the war fundamentally altered the way people interacted with their world. Individual experiences were filtered through the lens of living through the war. The war, while evoking diverse individual responses and fostering distinct generational units, forged commonalities in thinking unique to that generation’s collective experiences. Patterns created due to the traumatic responses from the war has been deeply embedded in parenting today. For this reason, the younger generation’s actuality has been shaped by both those patterns but also the shared unfamiliarity of the absence of such conflict.

Conversely, a generation’s obliviousness to the concept of puberty profoundly alters an individual’s worldview, as the absence of this collective knowledge dictates their understanding of self. The way we interact with our bodies when going through puberty is shaped by the generationally understood concept of puberty. While individual reactions to universal concepts may vary, the generational framework within which these concepts are understood dictates how people respond.

My examples reinforce the supremacy of generational identity on individual experience. Generational influence drives the way we evolve with humanity’s constant evolution as we learn and pass on patterns from one generation to the next. However, individual choice remains central in shaping worldview.

Social media is a defining event that has shaped my generation’s worldview, beliefs, and behaviours by being a primary agent during formative years. Constant exposure to online content has altered the way my generation perceives, thinks, and reacts. Nowadays, people have a preference for their phones and screens than they do for their immediate, real world social environment, making media a very powerful force in shaping identity. Early addiction to social media apps like tiktok, instagram, and snapchat has led to detrimental effects on my generation.

Posting for validation is a significant issue. Having so much access to other people’s lives leads to damaging comparisons for not being able to reach their perceived level of social status. As an insecure teenager, comparing myself to people who I considered more “beautiful” than me really influenced the way I perceived myself. As a black girl, the constant race wars and hateful comments online led to dysmorphic issues for me at a young age.

Pervasive exposure to cruel and hateful content on social media has normalised it, leading to a desensitization among users. This normalcy is reinforced by the large volume of such interactions, even being thrown around as jokes. The glamorization of online life leads to a disconnect from the real world, preventing individuals from learning who they truly are. Consequently, they end up living through other people’s thoughts, allowing the content they consume to shape their identity.

We assume people’s identities based on the things they post, not considering that the person behind the screen hasn’t fully stabilised their identity. The dependence on online personas hinders the development of an authentic self, muffling genuine self-discovery.

Social media distorts the perception of success by over gratifying questionable values, leading to a pursuit of the wrong things. The lack of a stable identity makes my generation easily swayed by popular opinion on social issues, preventing genuine, independent critical thought. Social media leads to the creation of online personalities that differ from our real self. Due to my need for external validation, I made my online personality the version of me that I thought would get me the attention I wanted. I publicly disclosed my private matters such as my insecurities and my substance use because I wanted connection, validation — someone to understand. The normalisation of lust driven connections based on physical attractions has largely distorted our perception of love to hook up culture, shaping the way my generation views relationships. Slang like “fyne shyt” “two-man” has further perpetuated this distortion.The glamorization of serious issues like gang violence and the sheer volume of content we see in just a couple of scrolls has led to extreme desensitisation that i’m not sure we will ever be able to come back from as a society.

My name is Tolulope. I spent eight years of my life in Nigeria, growing up in a home where harsh punishments and beatings were seen as normal. I was told “I beat you because I love you” not always by my parents, but by those who were meant to care for me — people who should’ve been my refuge. I felt the need to dig into this topic because my mum rarely lets me hug her. When i try to show physical affection, she yells that it’s disrespectful. I want young Africans to understand why their parents act this way — it’s not their fault, it’s all their parents know. But it doesn't have to stay like this. If we don’t research and act, we risk continuing harmful patterns and cycles. I can’t stay silent. This case study aims to understand why African parenting is so authoritative and how it affects African children, specifically in the stage of adolescence. If you’re an African parent who uses harsh, punitive physical discipline, I hope this case study helps you see the real impact it has on your children.

Traditional African parenting styles and emotional norms before colonisation were rooted in communal values and strong moral foundations. Home was where these values were instilled, and through “home training”, children were taught helpfulness, kindness, honesty, and respect. A child without home training was called an abiiko, and a child who refused correction was called an akoogba. In the Yoruba tradition, parenting aimed to produce omoluabis, meaning people of character. This meant honesty, chastity before marriage, humility, and respect for elders. To be an omoluabi was to be a worthy, useful member of society. Anyone lacking these traits was called omolangidi, meaning like a wooden doll, hollow and lifeless regardless of how rich they became.

Traditional education was communal. Children learned not through textbooks, but through story telling. Yoruba wasn't just a language, it was a way of life and the mother tongue was the very essence of traditional education. Cultural preservation was ensured by elders, who were seen as philosophers and taught the younger generation cultural language, values, and beliefs. Each generation had a duty to the other: parents raised children and children cared for aging parents. Elders were deeply respected and dishonoring them was seen as inviting curses from the ancestors. Child rearing wasn't just a parents job; it belonged to the entire community. The Yoruba believed it was better to be childless than raise a useless child. Corporal punishment existed, but it was grounded in communal values, not violence. Children even ate from the same bowl, reinforcing a sense of belonging and shared identity.

However, colonisation broke these emotional and cultural support systems. Colonial education severed the organic link between children and their indigenous roots. European anthropologists saw African cultures as inferior, devaluing communal life and labelling it as primitive. As Western beliefs and Christianity spread, traditional family roles began to erode. The deep respect for elders weakened. Indigenous education gave way to reading and writing, leaving gaps between children and their cultural foundations. Nuclear families replaced extended ones, elderly people were sent to homes, and communal child discipline faded. Even language was lost — many youth now speak languages disconnected from their ancestral roots.

Colonial systems introduced institutions like remand homes and aged care centers that physically separated elders and children, essentially dismantling intergenerational care. This shift replaced emotional, collective child rearing with isolated, impersonal systems, resulting in a generation disconnected from it’s elders and from the warmth that once held families together. Unless we act, that disconnection will only deepen.

Once formal western schooling was introduced, children were forbidden from speaking their native languages in class, creating internal conflict, especially for Yoruba children who once learned omoluabi values like respect, honesty, and humility through their language and community. Education shifted from a nurturing, cultural experience to a rigid system rooted in control, silence, and individual success. Colonial schools trained children to associate obedience with respect and viewed emotional expression as weakness. Learning became something that happened in classrooms, not in communities. As families moved into cities and traditional support systems broke down, parenting became more nuclear and emotionally distant. Children who once belonged to a village now belonged only to a household. Without elders and community guidance, parenting authority became more isolated and often mirrored the strict, fear-based discipline of colonial classrooms. Instead of passing down cultural identity, colonial education passed down emotional suppression. It taught generations to disconnect from their roots and from eachother.

Schools, which trained African children in western thought, often replicated colonial violence with flogging and emotional humiliation. Parents internalized these methods as “effective” because that’s what they saw rewarded by colonial authority. This brutality was internalized and today, many African parents see beating, shaming, and fear-based control as normal and necessary forms of love because that’s how power was once enforced on them. The violence, abuse, and displacement experienced during colonization directly contributed to psychological trauma, including symptoms of anxiety, depression, PTSD, and unresolved grief. The emotional suppression and trauma also had broader social consequences, contributing to social instability, conflict, and difficulties in building strong communities. Emotional expression was weakness, especially in men. Many parents raised under this regime never learned how to process or express emotion healthily. As a result, they struggle to be emotionally present, creating distant or unaffectionate parenting styles.

Today, many African youth are open, expressive, emotionally aware and exposed to global ideas of healing and softness. But their parents? raised in fear, silence, and shame. The two generations often speak different emotional languages and misrecognise each other’s love. Parents who never had safe spaces to express themselves may dismiss or belittle their children’s feelings, calling them too soft or ungrateful. This creates a disconnect between generations, rooted in unresolved emotional wounds from colonisation. Without healing, trauma doesn’t disappear, it gets repeated. African parents who haven’t reflected on the impact of colonisation often repeat the same authoritarian, emotionally rigid styles they were raised with, believing it’s tradition, not trauma.

In Nigeria, speaking yoruba, or Igbo in school could lead to public caning. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-63971991 In Kenya, the british introduced character training policies, where kneeling, flogging, and corporal punishment were tools for enforcing obedience, not learning. These methods were justified as discipline, but they were rooted in shame, control, or fear. Christian missionaries used public shaming to “reform” African families. Girls were condemned for traditional clothing, and spiritual leaders were called demonic. At home, these tactics were absorbed and passed on. Instead of affirmation, many parents now correct their children with humiliation, comparisons, or silence, believing that’s what love looks like.

Colonial regimes equated silence with respect. Affection was dismissed as primitive. Stepping out of line could literally get people killed. In apartheid South Africa, Black parents told their children not to look white people in the eye for survival. In Nigeria, during the Biafran war, children starved. Parents had to prioritise food and safety, not hugs or soft words. Post independence, economic collapse left mothers and fathers working constantly. Emotional care became a luxury they couldn't afford. And so, love became sacrifice, not softness.

Fathers were taught that tenderness was weakness. That strong men are stoic. The british called affectionate African parents uncivilized, demanding cold, controlled households. Over time, this reshaped the way love was defined in many African homes. Obedience replaced respect. Fear replaced connection. These deeply embedded patterns, often misunderstood as cultural tradition, are really trauma in disguise, still shaping how love is expressed today.

Colonial officers and schools redefined strength as emotional restraint and obedience, explicitly devaluing emotional expression. In British colonies like Nigeria, colonial officers idealized the stoic gentleman model — emotionally restrained, authoritative, and rational. African boys in mission or government run schools were praised for silence and obedience, not for vulnerability or emotional insight. This reshaped post colonial definitions of masculinity, especially in men.

Mission schools punished emotional expression. In East African mission schools, crying or resisting was seen as defiance. Teachers used harsh corporal punishment to enforce discipline. Affection was viewed as a distraction from order. Colonial officers believed warm parenting was primitive or unproductive, promoting cold, controlled households as the civilised norm.

Punishment became confused with love. While the phrase “spare the rod, spoil the child” had pre colonial and biblical roots, colonial missionaries weaponised it, turning beatings into a moral obligation. Post colonial African parents, shaped by religious colonial education, came to see punishment as the main way to show concern or raise “good” children.

During indirect rule in Northern Nigeria, men were elevated as household heads and expected to control their families through firm rule, not tenderness. After colonial rule left many African countries impoverished and politically unstable, survival shaped parenting. A Nigerian mother who grew up in the 1970s might say “we couldn’t afford softness — our children had to be tough enough to survive hunger, war, or joblessness.”

All these factors collectively ingrained the belief that vulnerability and affection are weaknesses. Our parents weren’t allowed to cry, so they don’t know how to hold us when we do.

Colonial parenting patterns are learned responses passed down through generations of trauma, but they’re not fixed. Through neuroplasticity, the brain has the ability to rewire itself. Repetition and reflection can override automatic reactions. When a parent chooses to pause instead of yell, or speak instead of shame, and does this consistently, new neural pathways form, slowly replacing old ones. Emotional bonds release oxytocin, a healing neurochemical. Hugs, open conversation, and warmth activate the brain’s reward system, reinforcing the idea that love and connection are not only safe but powerful. Children can rewire parenting too. When they model vulnerability, ask questions, and respond with calm rather than fear, they challenge their parents’ programming and invite growth. Every small change is a neural change. Choosing to speak rather than hit, to listen rather than shame, even once, literally rewires the brain. New cycles begin with new responses.

Many African parents equate love with providing food, education, and discipline ,not emotional presence. Affection is often seen as unnecessary or even indulgent. As a result, self-worth becomes performance-based. Children learn that love must be earned through obedience or success, and when affection is tied to achievement, failure feels like rejection. Emotionally distant parenting often creates anxious (clingy, approval-seeking) or avoidant (emotionally shut-down) attachment styles. Emotional needs are dismissed as disrespect or weakness, teaching children to suppress parts of themselves just to feel accepted. Over time, hyper-independence develops. Without emotional support, many children adopt a “don’t need anyone” mindset ,masking a deep fear of abandonment. The truth is, many African parents were raised without emotional expression. They want to love better but often don’t know how. Silence is inherited. The cycle continues until someone chooses to break it. Children raised in emotional neglect often grow up to repeat the same patterns, unless they consciously interrupt the cycle through healing, awareness, and reparenting.

Intentional parenting proves that trauma doesn’t have to be permanent. Through neuroplasticity, the brain can heal and form new emotional pathways when exposed to consistent, positive experiences,especially in childhood. Safety rewires fear. When a child feels safe expressing emotions without punishment, the brain slowly disconnects vulnerability from danger and rewires it toward connection. Validation replaces shame. When intentional parents name and affirm emotions, children learn to reflect instead of suppress, building emotional awareness, not guilt. Regulated parents model regulation. A calm, emotionally present parent teaches their child how to handle anger, sadness, and fear without shutting down. The child’s brain mirrors what it sees.

Affection also reshapes attachment. Small, daily acts of love such as eye contact, hugs, verbal affirmations all build security, even in children who were raised in distant or harsh environments. Rewiring trauma changes biology: children raised by emotionally aware, intentional parents show lower cortisol levels, higher self-esteem, and greater emotional intelligence. But it starts with the parent. African parents who reparent their inner child by confronting their own wounds stop projecting unhealed pain onto their kids. Healing themselves rewires the next generation. Instead of defaulting to “how I was raised,” intentional parenting means choosing to pause, reflect, and respond with intention. That’s how new patterns are built. That’s how trauma ends.

Decolonised parenting replaces fear with respect. It rejects the idea that discipline must come through violence, instead choosing boundaries, empathy, and communication. It validates children’s emotions instead of punishing them, creating space for feelings without calling them disrespect. It challenges blind obedience — children aren’t just expected to say “yes ma” or follow “because I said so.” They are encouraged to ask why, to think critically, and to understand the world, not just survive it.

Young Africans like me are no longer staying silent.

We’re redefining strength. Crying isn’t weakness. Setting boundaries isn’t disrespect. Reflecting isn’t indulgence, it’s power. We’re choosing to love without fear: showing up with softness, affirmation, and intentional care in friendships and relationships, instead of repeating cycles of control and sacrifice.

We’re challenging cultural norms with compassion, asking questions, pushing back against the idea that love means suffering in silence, but still honoring our elders and roots. Even before becoming parents, we’re parenting differently. We’re unlearning emotional neglect now so our future children won’t inherit the same emotional gaps.

Emotional intelligence is no longer taboo. Healing, journaling, therapy, spiritual reflection, and deep conversations are valid tools, not “Western nonsense.” And most importantly, we’re turning pain into purpose. Just like I am in this case study — we are using our voices to educate, uplift, and demand better from our families, communities, and systems.

Healing across generations begins with honesty. Intergenerational conversations, where both parent and child can share pain, misunderstandings, and love without interruption. Apologies without excuses, like “I didn’t know better, but I want to change,” can repair emotional damage more than silence ever could. Sometimes, families need help breaking the cycle. Therapy or guided dialogue with a culturally-aware mediator creates space for reflection and new habits.

But healing doesn’t have to be formal. It can be as simple as creating new emotional norms: checking in with “how are you really feeling?”, offering a hug, or saying “I’m proud of you.” Storytelling is another tool when parents open up about their own childhood pain, it builds empathy and reminds both sides that trauma didn’t start with them, but it can end with them.

When words feel too heavy, writing letters can express truth, regret, or love in a safe way. Boundaries, too, are a form of healing. When children say, “I need space,” it isn’t rebellion, it’s trust, and it helps rebuild connection. Most of all, forgiveness has to be a process. You can still feel hurt and still choose to grow together. Healing is messy, but it’s possible, and it starts with choosing love over silence.