Hangouts have become a normal part of life for many workers, especially in Lagos, where weekends often mean finding somewhere to relax, eat and catch up with friends. This particular Saturday was supposed to be no different. It was a picnic hangout until a conversation about some podcasts calling out older parents, particularly Gen X parents, for their parenting styles, took an unexpectedly serious turn.

That got everybody talking because almost everyone had a story. Somebody had been called ugly. Somebody had been called lazy. Somebody had been told they would never amount to anything. There were stories about parents mocking their children’s weight, embarrassing them in front of relatives or constantly using other people’s children as a measuring stick.

And the explanation was almost always the same: “My parents were trying to correct me.” “They wanted me to be better.” “They were only being strict.”

Growing up in Nigeria, many of us were taught that good parents were supposed to be tough. You were not meant to answer back or complain. If your parent embarrassed you in front of visitors, you kept quiet. If they compared you with your cousin, you listened. If they called you lazy or stubborn, you were expected to take it as a correction.

But years later, some of those children are looking back at those experiences differently. Was it discipline when a child was constantly made to feel worthless? Was it motivation when a child learned to believe somebody else would always be better? We asked seven Nigerians to tell us what it was like growing up with parents whose words and behaviour made them feel small. Their names have been changed.

“I could never do anything right”

Amaka remembers being a good student and still feeling as though she was disappointing her parents. If she came first, her mother wanted to know why she had not scored 100. If she came second, she wanted to know who came first. Even good results came with criticism.

“It was never just, ‘Well done.’ There was always something else I should have done.”

As she grew older, Amaka stopped showing her mother things she was proud of because she already expected criticism.

“I can know that I did something well and still immediately look for what I did badly.”

“There was always another child”

For Chinedu, his father’s favourite parenting tool was comparison. A neighbour’s son was more responsible. His cousin was more intelligent. Someone else’s child had gained admission before him.

“He would say, ‘Look at this person’s child. What is wrong with you?’”

Chinedu initially thought the comparisons would motivate him. Instead, they made him feel permanently behind.

“When you grow up being told somebody else is always better, you can become successful and still feel like a disappointment.”

“My parents would embarrass me in front of people”

Bisola remembers family gatherings as particularly uncomfortable. Her mother would tell relatives embarrassing stories about her childhood, while her father sometimes used her as an example in front of her siblings.

“She would say it, and everybody would laugh. Then she would look at me like I should laugh too.”

She became quiet around adults because she did not want to become the next story.

“If someone corrects me in front of other people now, even when they are not insulting me, I feel embarrassed immediately.”

“My father could turn anything into an insult”

Daniel says his father’s words stayed with him. If he was slow, he was stupid. If he made a mistake, he was useless. If he complained, he was ungrateful.

“Nobody around me thought it was strange. They would just say, ‘That is how African fathers are.’”

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Daniel became quiet at home because talking usually made things worse.

“I learnt that the safest thing was not to say anything.”

Even now, when someone raises their voice at him, he shuts down.

“I know my father loved me. That is what makes it complicated. I am not saying he did not love me. I am saying some of the things he did hurt me.”

“Everything I wanted became a reminder of what they sacrificed”

Eniola’s parents rarely insulted her. Instead, they made her feel guilty. Asking for new shoes became a reminder that other children had none. Complaining about school became a lecture about how much her education cost.

“I always felt like I owed them something.”

Even after she began earning her own money, spending on herself made her uncomfortable.

“I thought being a good daughter meant not needing too much.”

“They had already decided who I was supposed to become”

Tunde’s parents expected him to be quiet, obedient and academically focused. He was interested in music and liked questioning things, neither of which went down well at home.

His mother would tell him he was becoming like his father whenever she thought he was being stubborn. His father would remind him that a man who could not listen to his father would suffer in life.

Tunde began hiding parts of himself. When he eventually chose a career they did not approve of, the disagreement became much bigger than the career.

“My parents had an idea of the child they wanted. I was just not that child.”

“I thought being afraid of your parents was normal”

Zainab assumed every family worked like hers. The sound of her mother’s car arriving could change the atmosphere in the house. Her father was no different.

“When he came home and was in a bad mood, everybody became quiet.”

As an adult, she noticed that she constantly studied people’s moods. If someone looked unhappy, she assumed she had done something wrong.

“I thought I was just observant.”

Eventually, she understood where it came from.

“I was always checking the room because that is what I had to do at home.”

Maybe our parents did not know

Many Nigerian parents were raised in homes where harshness was considered normal, and some simply repeated what had been done to them. Nigeria’s 2021 Multiple Indicator Cluster Survey found that 90 percent of children aged one to 14 had experienced some form of violent discipline in the previous month. Psychological aggression affected 85 percent of children, while 78 percent experienced physical punishment. The survey also found that 64 percent of mothers and caregivers believed physical punishment was necessary to raise or educate children.

That does not mean every strict parent is a bully, but it shows that harsh discipline is not unusual in Nigerian homes.

The problem is that what adults see as discipline can feel very different to a child, especially when insults, comparisons and fear become a regular part of growing up.

For these seven Nigerians, the hardest memories were ordinary moments repeated until they became part of how they saw themselves: a school result that was never good enough, a cousin who was always better, an insult disguised as correction or a parent’s footsteps that made a child wonder what they had done wrong.

Cynthia Nwanonyiri