Echoes of Trauma: When children become their parents’ protectors
Some children grow up wishing their parents would protect them. Others spend their childhood trying to protect their parents from each other.
By Lillian Okenwa
There is a child who hears the quarrel begin and immediately wonders what might happen next. Perhaps Mum will cry again. Perhaps Dad will throw something. Perhaps this time, someone will get seriously hurt. The child may move closer to the room where the voices are rising, not because they are brave, but because staying away feels unbearable. They are afraid of what they might see if they go in, and just as afraid of what might happen if they do not.
Mary, not her real name, knows something about that fear. Deeply affected by the quarrels between her parents, she tried to hold herself together for the sake of her siblings. She kept much of her distress to herself, as though showing her own pain would only add to the family’s troubles.
During one physical confrontation between her parents, Mary tried to pull her father away from the exchange of blows with her mother. In the struggle, one of her parents struck her on the head.
She had gone in trying to protect someone she loved. She came away hurt herself.
What does a child do with an experience like that? How does a young person make sense of being caught between the people who are supposed to provide safety? Mary was trying to stop the fighting, but the responsibility was never hers to carry. A child should not have to put their own body between two adults to keep either of them from being hurt.
In May 2023, PUNCH reported the arrest of 16-year-old Emmanuel John following the death of his father, Monday John, in Madala village, Karshi, Abuja. According to the report, Emmanuel intervened during a physical fight between his parents and struck his father on the head with a pestle. His father later died from the injury. Police reportedly said the teenager would be taken before a juvenile court after their investigation. The eventual outcome of the case is not established here.
A man had lost his life, and a teenager was at the centre of a family tragedy. Nothing about the possible pressures a child may face at home can diminish the gravity of that loss. Nor do we know enough about Emmanuel’s circumstances to say what he intended, what he felt in that moment or what had happened in the family before the incident.
Still, the report brings us face to face with a painful reality. When a child sees one parent hurting the other, the feelings that rise within them may be difficult to understand, even for the child experiencing them. There may be fear for the injured parent, anger towards the aggressor and a desperate wish for the violence to stop. A child who has watched such scenes repeatedly may carry feelings that have nowhere safe to go.
Some children rush in. Others stand aside, frightened and helpless. Some hide with their younger siblings, while others lie awake afterwards wishing they had been strong enough to do something. A child may imagine confronting the parent responsible for the violence but be too terrified to move when it begins. Another may intervene without thinking through the danger.
We cannot know which feelings or circumstances shaped Emmanuel’s actions. But we can recognise that children who live with domestic violence may be placed under pressures they are not equipped to manage. Their distress deserves attention long before a crisis forces others to notice it.
And not every child who is caught in parental conflict is trying to prevent physical harm. Sometimes, the struggle is over something as ordinary as speaking to a parent, sharing a joke or showing affection.
A mother who is angry with her husband may become upset when their child speaks warmly to him. A father who feels betrayed by his wife may interpret the child’s kindness towards her as taking sides. The child may be questioned, rebuked or made to feel guilty for an innocent conversation. In some homes, even showing happiness after spending time with one parent can create tension with the other.
Imagine being a child who loves both parents but must think carefully about how to express it. You want to tell your mother something funny your father said, but you decide against it because you know she will be upset. You want to call your father, but you worry about how your mother will react. You may find yourself hiding small moments of happiness, not because you have done anything wrong, but because somebody you love might feel hurt by them.
The child begins to learn that love has consequences. Affection must be measured. Words must be chosen carefully. Even silence may be misinterpreted.
For a young person already struggling with the tension at home, this is another weight to carry. They are not only trying to live with their parents’ conflict; they are trying to protect each parent from the pain of knowing they still love the other. They may feel responsible for keeping everybody happy, even when nothing they do seems enough.
A child should not have to prove loyalty by withholding affection. Loving a mother does not mean betraying a father, and loving a father does not diminish love for a mother. Children need the freedom to maintain safe relationships with both parents without being drawn into grievances they did not create.
Research helps explain why this matters. Psychologist E. Mark Cummings, writing for UC Berkeley’s Greater Good Magazine, describes how sensitive children are to the emotional climate between their parents. They may recognise tension and hostility even when adults assume they are too young to understand. Repeated, destructive conflict can affect a child’s sense of security and contribute to anxiety, sleep difficulties, concentration problems and other forms of distress.
Some children become unusually watchful. They notice a change in tone, listen for footsteps and try to predict when another argument might begin. Others become withdrawn or irritable, struggle with schoolwork or find it difficult to explain why they feel unsettled. A child may look perfectly fine to a teacher or neighbour and still be carrying worries that leave little room for the ordinary business of childhood.
When a child repeatedly takes on responsibilities that belong to adults, the pattern may amount to what psychologists call parentification. This can happen when a child becomes a parent’s emotional confidant, mediates disputes or feels responsible for keeping the family together. Helping at home is not, by itself, a problem. The concern is when a child is expected to carry adult burdens without the care and support that should be available to them.
The effects may reach into later life. A person who spent childhood anticipating anger may find it difficult to feel secure in close relationships. Someone who learnt to keep everyone else happy may struggle to say no, express personal needs or accept that disagreement does not always mean rejection. These experiences do not determine every child’s future, and a safe, supportive environment can make a profound difference. But they should not be dismissed simply because the child appears to have coped.
Parents may have genuine grievances against each other. They may be dealing with betrayal, financial hardship, disappointment or the painful breakdown of a relationship. Children do not need adults to pretend that everything is fine. They need adults who understand that their disagreements must not become the children’s burden.
They should not be used to carry hostile messages, asked to report on the other parent or made to provide comfort at the expense of their own emotional needs. They should not be punished for showing affection to a parent, nor expected to settle disputes that the adults themselves have been unable to resolve.
When conflict becomes physical, the responsibility for safety rests with the adults. Children must not be left to intervene, and a child who has witnessed violence needs reassurance that it was not their fault. They need someone who will listen without blame, take their fear seriously and help them find safety.
Mary’s experience brings home the danger of stepping between fighting parents. Emmanuel’s reported case leaves us with difficult questions about the circumstances in which a child may become involved in violence with such devastating consequences. We must be careful not to assume we know what either child felt or intended. Yet we cannot afford to overlook the children who are living with similar fear behind closed doors.
Some of them will never raise a hand against anyone. They may never enter the room when the fighting starts. They will simply retreat, hold their younger siblings close, or lie in bed wishing somebody would make it stop. Others will grow adept at reading the moods of the adults around them, learning when to speak, when to withdraw and how to keep the peace.
People may call such children mature, strong or unusually responsible. Sometimes, what looks like maturity is a child trying to survive circumstances they cannot change. The child who comforts a distressed parent may also need comforting. The one who tries to protect younger siblings may be frightened too. The child who seems to understand everyone else’s feelings may have had very little opportunity to understand their own.
Perhaps the saddest part is that a child can become so accustomed to looking after everyone else that nobody thinks to ask how the child is doing.
No child should have to risk injury to protect a parent, hide affection to avoid upsetting another or spend childhood feeling responsible for the peace of the household. Parents may not always see eye to eye, but their children should not have to choose sides in order to be loved.
A child should never have to become the bravest person in the house simply because the adults have stopped making it a safe place to live.
- A lawyer and equity advocate, Lillian is the publisher of Law & Society Magazine. She can be reached at Lillianokenwa@gmail.com. X: @OkenwaLillian.
