“I’m Not One of Your Little Friends”: Redefining the Black Mother-Daughter Relationship

I grew up during the era of:

“I’m not one of your little friends.”

And even as a child, I never really understood that statement.

Because what exactly is a friend?

A friend is someone you trust.

Someone you can confide in.

Someone you can tell your secrets to.

Someone who supports you but will also tell you when you're wrong.

Someone you can call when you've messed up.

Someone who gives you advice.

Someone you can laugh with, cry with, be ridiculous with, and sit quietly with.

Someone who knows the parts of you that everybody else doesn't get to see.

So when I became a mother, I knew I wanted to be many things to my daughter.

Her parent? Absolutely.

Her protector? Without question.

Her teacher? Of course.

But I also wanted to be her friend.

I Don't Want Respect at the Expense of Relationship

There was a version of parenting many of us grew up with where respect meant hierarchy.

Adults spoke. Children listened.

Adults questioned. Children answered.

And sometimes, simply explaining yourself could be interpreted as “talking back.”

I knew I didn't want that relationship with my daughter.

I didn't want to become so focused on making sure she respected me that I created a child who was afraid to talk to me.

Because what good is having a child who says “yes ma'am” if she is terrified to tell you what's actually happening in her life?

What good is obedience if it comes with secrecy?

What good is respect if there is no emotional safety?

I want my daughter to respect me.

But I also want her to trust me.

And if I ever have to choose between protecting my authority and protecting our connection, I'm going to fight for our connection.

I Want Her to Tell Me the Hard Things

I want to be the person she comes to when everything is going right.

But more importantly, I want to be the person she comes to when everything has gone completely wrong.

When she makes a mistake.

When somebody hurts her.

When she hurts somebody else.

When she's embarrassed.

When she's confused.

When she has questions she thinks she's “not supposed” to ask.

When she's made a decision she already knows I won't like.

When she needs me to listen before I start giving advice.

I want her to know:

You can tell me.

There may be consequences.

We may have a difficult conversation.

I may disagree with you.

I may tell you something you don't want to hear.

But you never have to wonder whether telling me the truth will cost you my love.

That's the relationship I want.

Because if my daughter feels like she can't bring the hard things to me, she's still going to bring them to somebody.

And I'd rather she receive guidance from someone who loves her, knows her, and has lived enough life to understand the complexity of adult situations than leave her trying to navigate them solely through the understanding of other teenagers who are figuring life out right beside her.