Do My Daughter’s Hate Me?

The short answer is, yes. They do hate me and they feel this hatred for all the right reasons.

The world is cruel, unfeeling and blind. It is selfish and unsafe. And because of this, as a mother, I have to instill fear, responsibility, wariness and respect into the young supple minds of my daughters. The reasons for which they do not, cannot fully comprehend.

And for this, they hate me.

Is it only the mother’s responsibility to inculcate such mannerisms? No, but it is my primary obligation to ready my girls for a world that was designed to see them as the weaker sex. I have to create the sense of confidence yet caution so that my daughters can understand and react appropriately. This is a learnt behavior that I have to clarify.

And for this, they hate me.

While the familial unit, as a whole, serves to treat my girls as princesses; I have to treat them as the world would. Because I know, having been there, that outside the home, my daughters have viable targets on their backs. Everyone will be taking shots at them. And unless I help them see this truth, I am not a fit mother.

And for this, they hate.

Their father promises to protect and oblige, which is a healthy emotion to fall back on. But I know from experience that no father is there all the time. No grandparents are always present to coddle and no aunts or uncles, are there to provide easy distraction. Problems have to dealt with alone and I teach them to do that.

And for this, they hate me.

So many facets of life offer no comfort; only one struggle after another. My girls would have to acquire the right capacities to meet these struggles. They have to honed with the right mental, emotional, financial and physical infrastructures to adapt. I have to enforce these learnings.

And for this, they hate me.

I wish to leave them be. To dream of unicorns and glitter or black skies with stars - whatever fills their fancy. But I am not at a liberty to do so. I have to restrict, to curb fantasy, to cut short dreams, to pull them back to reality. The world will give them no quarter and neither can I.

And for this, they hate me.

To throw my girls into a world filled with spite, to give them to the wolves that wait with bated breath and seedy intentions, I have to be the villain myself. Provide them with a glimpse of what there is in store for them. I have to be the reality that they will, too quickly, have to face.

And for this, they hate me.

I have seen this before. My relationship with my mother was just as strained. The two of us pulling in different directions. She sought to protect me while I sought to get away. After so many years, I finally understand it. With girls of my own, it finally makes sense. And I try to communicate this to my daughters.

And for this, they hate me.

I can’t protect them forever. No one can. Someone is going to break their hearts; someone will steal from them. Someone may hurt them while others would treat them with disdain or hate. They have battles to fight and there will be plenty of wounds and scars. I try to show them mine.

And for this, they hate me.

I am strict; seldom unkind. I am forceful, stubborn and immovable in intention. I am the mirror of all the vices that lurk for my daughters. I am often the darkness they will meet on various roads in life. I induce fear and I am tough to a fault. I become the insanity that qualifies as life.

And for this, they hate me.

If this helps them somehow – make one less mistake, trust one less stranger, change one unhealthy habit, I have done my bit. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday, my girls may see me as what I am and see why I did what I did, they may forgive me. But for now,

They can hate me.

Because I hate me too. I hate having to steal their innocence. I hate having to rob them of their dreams. I hate thrusting them into a cruel reality. I hate saying ‘no’ and I hate it when I say ‘yes’. I hate having to teach them things their minds shouldn’t know. I hate creating dread where once only trust lived. I having to crush their desires and I hate pushing them to do more and be better. I hate myself for being this.

And for this, I think, my girls may love me. Someday. 

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