I made the decision to stop taking my daughters to family gatherings after years of not truly grasping what was going on.
My girls, Emily (14) and Sophie (12), have been subjected to those so-called normal remarks from relatives since they were little:
She eats too much.
That doesnt suit her.
Shes too old to dress like that.
She should watch her weight from an early age.
At first, I brushed it aside, convincing myself it was just the blunt way our family always talked. Id think, Thats how they are
When the girls were younger, they didnt know how to defend themselves. Theyd go quiet, look down, sometimes force a polite smile. I could see they were bothered, but I told myself I was probably exaggerating. Thats just typical of family gatherings.
And yes, the table was full, there was laughter, photos, hugs but there were also lingering glances, comparisons between cousins, needless questions, sly remarks disguised as jokes.
At the end of the day, my daughters would come home more subdued than usual.
The comments never really stopped. They simply changed shape. It wasnt just about food anymore. It was about their bodies, how they looked, how they were developing.
That ones getting a bit too curvy now.
The other is so skinny.
No one will like her looking like that.
If she keeps eating like that, shell have herself to blame.
No one asked them how they felt. No one realised these were girls who were listening and remembering.
Everything shifted when they hit adolescence.
One day, after a Sunday get-together, Emily came up to me and said,
Dad I dont want to go anymore.
She explained that these gatherings were awful for her: fussing over her outfit, putting on a brave face, swallowing those barbed comments, politely smiling and coming home feeling miserable.
Sophie just nodded, saying little.
At that moment, I finally understood theyd both felt this way for a long time.
I started to pay real attention. Replaying scenes, remembering words, glances, gestures.
I listened to others stories toopeople who grew up in families where everything was said for their own good. I realised just how cruelly that can scar your self-confidence.
So together with my wife, I made a choice:
Our daughters wont go to places where they feel unsafe.
We wont make them go.
If one day they want to, thats fine.
If not, its not a disaster.
Their well-being means more than family tradition.
Some relatives have already noticed. The questions began.
Whats going on?
Why arent they here?
Youre making too much of it.
Its always been this way.
You cant treat children like fragile glass.
I didnt offer explanations.
I didnt cause scenes.
I didnt argue.
I simply stopped taking them.
Sometimes silence says everything.
Now my daughters know their father wont put them in situations where they have to swallow humiliation dressed up as opinions.
Some may dislike it.
Some may think were being difficult.
But I would rather be the dad who sets boundaries, than one who looks away while his girls learn to hate parts of themselves just to fit in.
If Ive learnt anything, its this: protecting my childrens peace matters more than any tradition. And I know I did the right thing.
