By: Angela Darko
I recently watched a documentary on Michael Jackson, and I finished it with an overwhelming feeling of sadness.
For all his fame, genius, and global influence, what struck me most was not the music, the performances, or even the controversies that followed him throughout his life. It was how deeply he seemed shaped by the words spoken to him as a child.
By many accounts, Joseph Jackson was a disciplinarian who pushed his children relentlessly toward greatness. But greatness achieved through fear often leaves invisible scars.
Michael spoke openly about how his father mocked his appearance, particularly his nose. What may have sounded like passing comments to a parent became deeply embedded insecurities for a child. Those remarks reportedly influenced his decision to undergo his first nose surgery.
Then there was the infamous 1984 Pepsi commercial accident, where his hair caught fire during filming at the height of his career. Behind the public spectacle was a man who had spent much of his life performing under enormous pressure, one that reportedly began at home.
The Impact of Words
It made me think about something we often underestimate: children do not simply hear our words. They become them.
A parent may call a child “lazy” in frustration, unaware that the child may grow into an adult who constantly feels inadequate.
A father may repeatedly compare one child to another, never realizing he is planting seeds of resentment and self-doubt.
A mother may make casual remarks about her daughter’s body, believing she is being helpful, while unknowingly creating lifelong battles with self-esteem.
And sometimes, the deepest wounds come not from what parents say in anger, but from what they fail to say in love.
The Silent Language of Silence
And then there are parents whose silence becomes its own form of language.
- No criticism.
- No encouragement.
- No affirmation.
- No emotional presence.
Just silence.
They are physically present but emotionally distant, rarely praising, rarely correcting with intention, rarely expressing pride or affection.
Children raised in that kind of emotional vacuum often grow into adults who constantly question themselves. They second-guess their decisions, struggle to believe they are enough, and spend years searching for validation they never received at home.
Because no voice is also a voice.
And silence can sometimes say:
- You are not worth noticing.
- Your achievements do not matter.
- Your pain is yours alone.
The Need for Emotional Presence
Children deserve more than provision. They deserve emotional presence.
- I’m proud of you.
- I believe in you.
- You are enough.
- I love you without conditions.
Many adults today are fighting silent battles rooted in childhood words they never forgot. Some are in therapy trying to undo years of verbal criticism. Others are high achievers still chasing validation from parents who were never emotionally present. Some struggle with relationships because affection was always tied to performance.
Breaking the Cycle of Generational Trauma
The tragedy is that many parents never intended to cause harm. Many are simply repeating what was done to them.
Generational trauma often disguises itself as discipline.
- Harshness becomes “preparing children for the real world.”
- Emotional distance becomes “strength.”
- Constant criticism becomes “motivation.”
But children do not learn best through humiliation. They learn best through correction that preserves their dignity.
A child who performs poorly in school does not need to be called “stupid” or compared to a sibling. They need patience, support, and reassurance that one bad grade does not define their intelligence.
A child who misbehaves should be corrected for the action, not condemned as a person. There is a world of difference between saying, “What you did was wrong,” and saying, “You are a bad child.”
A child struggling with confidence does not need criticism disguised as honesty. They need guidance delivered with kindness.
Discipline with Dignity
Even discipline can be firm without being cruel. Children need boundaries, but they also need dignity.
Correction should teach, not tear down.
When a child makes a mistake, shouting rarely teaches the lesson parents think it does. More often, it teaches fear. Asking questions such as “Why did you do that?” or “What could you have done differently?” helps children reflect on their actions and understand consequences.
Insults may produce temporary obedience, but they often leave permanent wounds. Explaining why certain behavior is unacceptable helps children connect discipline with responsibility rather than shame.
Public embarrassment should never be a parenting strategy. Correcting a child privately protects their dignity while still making room for accountability.
And perhaps most importantly, discipline should never make a child question whether they are loved. A child can be held accountable and still be reassured that one mistake does not change their worth.
The Voice We Create
The most effective parents are not those who never discipline their children. They are those who understand that correction rooted in love shapes character far better than fear ever could.
Parents should ask themselves a simple but profound question:
What voice am I helping create in my child’s head?
Because one day, they will grow up and speak to themselves using words that sound remarkably familiar.
May that voice be one of confidence rather than shame.
May it echo love rather than fear.
And may our children spend adulthood building dreams, not healing from what we said in their childhood.
