Consent, Emotional Safety & Boundaries: Exploring the Generational Divide
Boundaries, both physical and emotional, are integral to any relationship, and shape how we interact with one another.
Respected appropriately, they have the power to play a pivotal role in fostering mutual respect, personal space, and a sense of safety.
However, over the years, I’ve noticed a curious disparity — a generational gap, if you will — between how baby boomers tend to view boundaries and personal autonomy, compared to those of younger generations.
This glaring disparity is particularly apparent (it seems to me) in relation to children’s rights to respect, personal autonomy and boundaries.
One recent incident sparked this most recent bout of introspection on the issue for me: an incident where my seven-year-old son was engaged in a spirited bout of teasing with my father.
It was a scene that could possibly be described as charmingly reminiscent of countless childhood memories of my own.
My son was vying for his grandfather’s attention, to which my father responded with a lighthearted threat of revenge, in the typical grandfatherly fashion we all know and (?) love.
However, as I watched the playful banter escalate, I also saw a familiar unsettling pattern — the potential for boundaries being crossed, and a lack of awareness around the fact.
From childhood experiences of my own, as well as watching similar between my father and my children over the years, I knew where this situation would likely end up: my son in tears and my father shrugging off his distress, perhaps with an offhand comment intended to minimise my son’s discomfort.
Hoping to rein the situation in before it could escalate, I reminded my son that his grandfather doesn’t respect boundaries like the rest of us do.
The reaction from my father wasn’t really unexpected: there was no defensiveness, no embarrassment, but rather a near gleeful proclamation of, “No, I don’t.”
It was clear from his response that the jest had sailed right over his head. There was instead a clear sense of pride emanating from his refusal to comply with what the rest of us understand to be healthy boundaries in our family today.
This peculiar (although not unexpected) reaction, taken with a pinch of laughter and a dash of resignation, has bothered me since it happened.
Of course I know this is what my father is like — like many boomers — and I had made the comment that I did to pre-empt the inevitable downward spiral, from a place of recognition of this.
I have also frequently counselled my children that while grandad’s behaviour is not okay (and that I will always protect them), that this is also simply who he is too.
In contrast to my children’s other grandparents, my father does actually also make an effort to facilitate relationships in many good ways too.
When ever we have needed help over the last few years, he has always readily stepped up. He’ll also play with my children in short spurts, and his harsher moments aside, my children generally think he’s great fun.
Still, I’m left sitting here questioning (once again) why there is this evident generational disconnect in understanding and respect for personal boundaries and autonomy that means I can’t trust him in other respects.
I wonder on it particularly when I see my father lash out verbally at my children too — often perhaps as a consequence of his age-related tiredness or pain — but with my father clearly having no self awareness of the abusive nature of his actions in this respect, or the inappropriate abuse of power they represent.
My father in turn wonders why I intervene so readily — with my essentially acting as a gatekeeper to his relationship with his grandchildren.
It’s certainly not a role I relish, yet one that I feel strongly is necessary, where there is such a blatant conflict of values between us.
These incidents with my father are emblematic of a recurring theme I’ve observed over the years with many baby boomers too.
Across multiple interactions and situations, there seems to be a common thread — a persistent struggle in comprehending and respecting the boundaries that many in my generation (and younger) now take as a given.
Another example of this involves my mother-in-law, and the seemingly simple concept of consent.
A few years ago, in the context of caring for my children, I brought up the way we gain consent before changing a nappy or clothes; suggesting that turning such chores into a fun game can help where needed.
Acknowledged was that sometimes these things just need to happen regardless of our baby’s / young child’s feelings on the matter, but also explained was that even from a very young age, there should be constant dialogue and explanation provided to our child on the necessity of such breaches of their autonomy.
The core point being that consent is the desired path with explanation and involvement in the decision making process otherwise necessary where this is not possible.
I didn’t go into the long list of psychological reasons for this, but did note that such parenting results in increased capacity for assertiveness and boundaries as they develop, with decreased vulnerability and risk of sexual abuse or similar as a consequence.
I also noted the horrifically high prevalence of child sexual abuse, which my mother-in-law had been unaware of.
Not explained, but also relevant to the point is that when a child’s boundaries are consistently breached, it can also lead to a diminished sense of self-worth and self-confidence, which means that many children come to believe that their needs, feelings, and rights are not important — understandings that often persist into adulthood with less than desirable consequences.
I am a case in point in this respect.
By ignoring a child’s boundaries, adults fail to teach children how to assert themselves and manage their own feelings, which can then also lead to difficulties in emotional regulation and expression in the future.
There is a significant body of psychological literature and research around these topics, which I began reading deeply on, following the birth of my third child, as my awareness around such issues grew.
The response I received from my mother-in-law, in attempting to explain personal autonomy and consent though (in less detailed terms than the above) was one of bewilderment.
The idea of respecting a young child’s boundaries to such an extent was utterly alien to her — as I imagine it is for many / most boomers.
To her, this was an unnecessary complication in the natural dynamics between an adult and a child.
Children in her view, should simply do what they’re told — again in stark contrast to my expressed beliefs (and what I know many others of my generation also believe).
This conversation, among others related, caused a fracture in our relationship.
I think she perceived my assertions to be “my way or the highway”, rather than a plea for simple respect for my children’s autonomy, alongside freedom from the kinds of verbal abuse that were standard in both my husband’s and my childhoods.
I still struggle to understand why this is such a big deal for grandparents — they get to be the fun ones if they choose; the ones who get to give the kids back and don’t need to deal with the every day stresses.
Why can’t they (I question) reign in their instincts to dominate and dictate for the short time they have with their grandkids and simply be the “fun” ones that their parents often face greater struggles to be?
I’m reminded too, of an article I read some time ago, titled “Fighting the Patriarchy, One Grandpa at a Time” — this has now been well circulated on social media, and I’ve heard it discussed repeatedly amongst my peers; again, perhaps reflecting a generational divide.
It presents an interesting perspective on these issues.
The story (if you don’t want to click the link above yourself and have a quick read) is about the author’s struggle to explain the concept of personal boundaries to her step father, in relation to her own young daughter.
For him, tickling his grandchild until they were out of breath was a harmless act of love and playfulness, even if the child expressed discomfort.
His perception was that the laughter and the ‘game’ of tickling were more significant than the child’s protests, which he saw as part of the fun.
However, the mum insisted that her father hear and understand that a child’s voice, their expression of comfort or discomfort, should be acknowledged and respected, irrespective of the adult’s intent.
The author recounts how the grandfather didn’t comprehend the necessity of such boundaries:
“Papa! Please back up! Mae would like some space for her body.” My voice is firm but cheerful. He does not move.
“Papa. I should not have to ask you twice. Please back up. Mae is uncomfortable.”
“Oh, relax,” he says, ruffling her wispy blonde hair. The patriarchy stands, patronizing me in my own damn kitchen. “We’re just playin’.” His southern drawl does not charm me.
“No. You were playing. She was not. She’s made it clear that she would like some space, now please back up.”
“I can play how I want with her.” He says, straightening his posture. My chest tightens. The sun-bleached hairs on my arms stand at attention as this man, who has been my father figure for more than three decades, enters the battle ring.
“No. No, you cannot play however you want with her. It’s not okay to ‘have fun’ with someone who does not want to play.” He opens his mouth to respond but my rage is palpable through my measured response. I wonder if my daughter can feel it. I hope she can.
Reflecting the many similar experiences I have also had or seen in my own life, the boomer-aged grandfather clearly viewed his actions as part of a grandfatherly role and dismissed the potential for crossing boundaries.
Much like my father’s gleeful admission of disregard for boundaries, he did not see an issue with his actions.
Perhaps the reason this story has stayed with me over the years, is that the exchange underscores the challenge of communicating boundaries and consent to those from older generations who often do not understand (or choose not to understand) or respect these concepts.
The mother’s story also reflects a role that I’m cognisant of having taking on myself, in relation to my own children, particularly as I have gained the necessary maturity, confidence and understanding of why demanding respect for such boundaries is necessary.
Changing Times
Times are changing. These shifts in societal thinking are happening rapidly now, as our younger generations more readily acknowledge respect for individual identity, boundaries and the need for personal autonomy.
Trauma — and the ongoing impacts of such — are also more readily discussed by younger generations, alongside willingness to confront our demons in therapy; something that was considered anathema to earlier generations.
Bit by bit, we are moving away from the notion that authority figures have the right to overrule personal boundaries.
Instead, many now champion the idea that every individual, even young children, should have control over their personal space and decisions.
The days when adults had carte blanche authority over children’s bodies and decisions have evolved into an era where we are increasingly recognising and respecting children as individuals with their own rights.
Today, we teach children about their right to bodily autonomy and the importance of expressing and asserting their comfort and discomfort.
Boundaries, along with consent, are the key words that have taken on a new prominence in our societal discourse.
Today, they are not just seen as rules or limits but rather as a vital component of healthy relationships.
In adult relationships, words like “enthusiastic consent”, for example, are now used to educate young people on what healthy sexual relationships look like, in contrast to the boomer era, where it was still legal to rape your wife in many western jurisdictions — right through to the 1990s in many cases.
Reflecting modern understandings around bodily autonomy and consent, modern parenting also tends to place high importance on establishing and maintaining boundaries with children.
Unlike past generations where a top-down approach was common, contemporary parents are more likely to treat their children as individuals whose voices matter.
There tends to be more engagement in dialogues, with greater respect for children’s views and perspectives, as well as understanding that even young children should have a say in decisions that directly affect them.
These evolutions in understanding represent significant societal advancements.
They stem from a greater awareness of the dynamics of power and the long-lasting impacts of early-life experiences and traumas on an individual’s development and well-being.
Younger generations are increasingly conscious of how power is utilised and how it can be misused, especially in relationships where there’s a significant disparity of power, such as between male bosses and their female underlings — or between adults and children.
This awareness has shifted how we interact with each other, with emphasis now more readily given to the importance of equal respect, communication, and understanding, irrespective of age or authority.
Research into childhood development and psychology has also shown the profound influence that early traumas, even those that might seem minor or insignificant, can have on a person’s mental and emotional health.
Verbal abuse, for example, can have deep-seated and long-lasting effects on children, influencing their self-esteem, emotional development, and mental health (well documented and empirically proved psychological facts for any doubters reading this).
There is also a significant distinction between effective discipline and verbal abuse.
Too often I hear adults justifying harsh words or derogatory comments as a form of discipline; hiding such under the guise of teaching or correcting behavior, when this is far from the case.
Verbal abuse is in fact a misuse of the inherent power dynamics between adults and children.
Discipline, in contrast, is about setting boundaries and teaching right from wrong, not about causing emotional distress or undermining a child’s self-worth.
The power adults hold in relation to children is significant. Employing it to belittle or harm a child, including verbally, is a gross misuse of this authority.
I know from my own childhood, just how damaging such abuse of power can be.
Broader recognition and understanding of this, as well as the long term impacts of traumas in this respect — helped along by the rapid dissemination of such information via social media — has led to a radical rethinking of how many parents approach interactions with children today.
I personally believe that this evolution in understanding marks an essential progression in our society — it’s a sign of our growing empathy, respect for individuality, and commitment to fostering happier, healthier childhoods for our young ones.
That then also hopefully means less traumatised adults and healthier societies in the longer term, as a consequence.
How to Approach These Issues With Boomers
My parenting journey began more than 20 years ago — with my oldest child soon to turn 21, and my youngest, just 4, today.
When I began this journey, I couldn’t articulate the discomforts or psychological harms I often felt as a consequence of traumas that had been inflicted in my childhood and teens.
I couldn’t have even told you when my boundaries were being breached in many instances — I hadn’t been socialised to understand that my needs and autonomy were my own to determine and demand respect for.
When I reflect, I can often see many actions that I took that were attempts to avoid or escape these discomforts or breaches of my autonomy or boundaries, but at the time, I wouldn’t have been able to explain (with any seriousness), what I was actually doing.
As a young mother in my teens and early twenties, I found myself fiercely protective of my children. But despite being armed with insights that my own parents clearly did not have, my parenting actions still often mirrored the patterns I’d experienced growing up.
I still also remember the anxiety and powerlessness I felt when my ex husband or father would verbally abuse my older children too— scaring them into submission in accordance with parenting norms that they had also been raised with.
In those situations, I generally felt powerless to intervene — socialised as I also was to accept this behaviour as “normal”.
As I gained confidence and maturity over the years, I did begin to intervene though — becoming more assertive in this respect and demanding that my children be treated with greater respect too.
By the time I had my third child —by then in my 30s — I had begun building active walls for my children, which ultimately also meant I found myself unwilling to really leave my younger children alone with their grandparents at all — such is my distrust and the understanding that there is little to no capacity for rational conversation and change around behaviours that I today consider to be abhorrent.
That said, and in more recent years, I have tried to take a subtler stance on these issues too though — offering indirect nudges and reminders, as an effort to enlighten without causing unnecessary conflict or resistance.
The hope is that by gently drawing attention to the significance of respecting boundaries in relation to my children, including avoidance of verbally abusive behaviours that reflect adult stressors, and are not in the interests of my kids, these relationships will improve over time.
The idea is to let grandparents witness firsthand the benefits of respecting boundaries, while remaining on guard to ensure their boundaries are not detrimentally breached.
Progress is slow, but I’ve seen glimmers of change that are encouraging.
Some conversations have become less challenging, and there seems to be a gradual, albeit reluctant, acceptance of these newer concepts, at least on some level.
My own father won’t discuss these issues directly with me of course.
He has instead found a new way to breach my boundaries — manipulatively raising his frustrations behind my back with my now adult daughter, who well understands why a gentler approach is required, and begrudges having her mother denigrated to her.
But clearly he is grappling with why his entitlement to lash out at those with less power than him, is no longer acceptable.
Why, my father decries, is his own behaviour considered so terrible, when he has witnessed me raising my own voice to my children?
How can I effectively communicate these complex issues to someone who has such a limited foundation / a lack of openness to discussing them without becoming defensive though, in order to highlight the stark difference between my behaviour and his?
Or even that if my conduct were as bad as him, why that still would not make it okay for my children to be doubly scared of people meant to be their protectors, not their abusers.
That yes, dad, your children and my older children did (do) find you scary when you lash out verbally— despite your pleas to the contrary.
Or that when I raise my voice, it tends to be about correction, in a way that is distinct from the abuse of power your verbal tirades often involve.
That when I do inevitably falter, and raise my voice inappropriately (lack of sleep and parenting stress in an age of economically tough times is understandably a bitch), I recognise, reflect, acknowledge and apologise to my children for my behaviour.
I’ve talked about this in another article I wrote on why we choose to parent more gently and the room I allow myself for being a flawed human being, while acknowledging that yelling at my children is abusive.
“Repair” is the modern parenting term here — I hold space for the fact that we are all flawed human beings, but have the self awareness to understand that when I fark up, it is not a weakness but a strength to apologise to my children and acknowledge wrong doing.
My children in turn then also learn that we’re all flawed human beings too, and that there are then also pathways to repair damage done when they too inevitably fark up in their relationships as well.
But abuse is abuse too — verbal abuse just as much as physical. And it is something we should all be going out of our way to recognise and avoid.
The bit I really don’t get about my children’s grandparents is that the time they have with their grandkids is already so limited — how difficult is it really to put aside your tiredness and pain to give them a safe environment?
Certainly it is easier than what parents struggle with, with considerable more on our plates.
I have heard stories from many millennials today too, who are also hesitant to trust their parents with their children, for similar reasons.
My personal (and perhaps naive) hope is that the knowledge many in my generation have garnered, will ultimately filter down to facilitate change though — that such might still be possible.
Patience and persistent efforts, with gentle prods — one hopes these things can slowly shift perspectives, bridge the understanding gap, and cultivate healthier interactions between generations.
While I stand firm in my conviction that violation of boundaries and disregard for consent and basic bodily autonomy cannot be condoned, I also recognise the invaluable role grandparents play in our children’s lives.
Grandparents can bring a wealth of wisdom, love, and life experiences that can enrich our children’s world in myriad ways.
But respect for boundaries, personal autonomy, and emotional safety, have to go hand in hand with this too.
In drawing attention to the generational gap and the need for more awareness, safety, and respect for personal boundaries, it’s not my intention to vilify individuals either.
I love my dad, for example — I see plenty of good in him. But my anger is provoked when I see my babies boundaries and emotional safety breached too.
Ultimately, my hope is to seek a shared understanding that allows for mutual respect and growth.
At the heart of my call, is that our children simply deserve better than what we had too.