I was the obedient child. The one who never caused trouble. The one who listened without asking questions. Fearful, cautious — if my parents said, “Don’t go there, it’s dangerous,” I didn’t go. Period.
But my obedience came at a price. I lived in constant fear of making mistakes, of being judged, of everyone — neighbors, classmates, adults — laughing at me. Shame followed me everywhere. Shame for not greeting someone, shame for refusing to help, shame for lying, shame for speaking — afraid that if I said something wrong, everyone would laugh at me.
I didn’t know I could have my own opinions. I didn’t know childhood was supposed to be about discovery and play, not about permissions and invisible limits. I waited to be told what to wear, where to go, what was right. Any idea or wish of my own was immediately stifled — because “parents know best.” And who was I to contradict the person who loves me the most in the world?
This obedience came with an excessive concern for others. If I said something that might hurt someone, it would be my fault. If I suffered, I had to hide it. I grew up with low self-esteem, with the idea that girls were “lucky” if they would ever get married, while boys could do whatever they wanted without judgment.
So, used to submitting, avoiding conflict, being “good,” the “perfect child,” I waited for someone to see me, love me, accept me for who I really was. And when that “Prince Charming” would appear — my luck was that he would choose me, and I would be even luckier if he didn’t occasionally hit me, because, you know, men hit women sometimes, and they have their reasons.
Now I know something important: obedience should not be confused with a lack of guidance. Children need to be seen and heard, but they also need healthy values and boundaries. They need to learn that they matter too, that their opinions and desires are important, and that they don’t need to be afraid to say “no” or make mistakes.
Parents who are proud of obedient children should know that obedience doesn’t disappear. It just shifts. A child who “always listens” will continue to seek approval, guidance, someone to tell them they are seen and loved. They will find that person somewhere else — perhaps a partner, a friend, even a mentor. And they will continue to be “obedient,” just not to you, but to the world that gives them what they were missing.
Being an obedient child doesn’t mean you have a perfect childhood. It doesn’t mean you’ll grow up to be a balanced adult. It means you learned to survive through fear and shame.
And yes, I grew up without excesses. No alcohol, no smoking, no rebellion. Why? Because shame kept me in check, fear made me “good.” But what I learned most is that obedience is not a virtue. The freedom to say “no,” to have opinions, to make mistakes, to be imperfect — that is what truly matters.
Perhaps the lesson for parents is this: don’t be too proud of an obedient child. Be proud of the child who feels safe to be themselves. The child who can say “no” when they truly mean “no.” The child who can make mistakes without shame. The child who knows their opinions and desires matter. Because that freedom, more than any obedience, will give them the courage to truly live.