Little Humans, Big Feelings
The other day, I found myself sitting on a wooden bench at my son’s basketball training, watching him dribble, laugh, and run alongside his friends. It was one of those ordinary moments we parents collect in our memories—a glimpse of joy, energy, and innocence all in one.
As I sat there, soaking it all in, a small moment unfolded next to me. A boy, no older than six, came running up to his mother, crying. He had been hit by the ball, and his tears were genuine—big, unfiltered emotions pouring out from a little body. His mother, sitting right beside me, softly told him, “Stop crying, ejja, be strong.”
And in that instant, something inside me shifted.
Her words weren’t harsh. In fact, they were delivered with gentleness and care. And truthfully, they were words I’ve said myself—maybe not in those exact ones, but the sentiment? Absolutely. “Be strong.” “You’re okay.” “Brush it off.” It’s what we’re taught to say. It’s what we believe builds resilience.
But hearing them from someone else gave me a different perspective. I didn’t feel judgment—I felt recognition. And then, reflection.
How often do we, as loving parents, unintentionally dismiss our children’s emotions in the name of teaching strength?
We say these things out of love, with the hope that our children grow up tough enough to handle life’s challenges. But perhaps we forget that true strength doesn’t come from hiding tears. It comes from understanding them. From having the space to feel them.
When we repeatedly tell our kids—especially our boys—that crying is something to be avoided, we may be planting seeds that grow into silence, emotional suppression, and inner turmoil. Our little boys (and yes, our girls too) may begin to believe that vulnerability is something to be ashamed of, that “being strong” means bottling up their hurt.
The consequences of that can be profound. It can lead to higher levels of stress, anxiety, and a disconnection from their own emotions. We may not see it right away, but one day, we might wonder why our children find it hard to open up. Why they struggle to communicate what they feel.
As mothers, fathers, caregivers, and role models, we can change this narrative. We must.
It starts with awareness, with catching ourselves in those little moments. It starts with shifting our words.
Instead of “Be strong,” we can say:
“That looked like it hurt—are you okay?”
“It’s okay to cry.”
“I’m right here.”
We can teach our children that emotions are not signs of weakness, but signals that deserve attention and care. That strength and softness can coexist. That being brave sometimes looks like letting the tears fall.
Let’s raise a generation of emotionally resilient children who are not afraid of their feelings. Children who feel seen, heard, and understood. Children who grow into adults with the confidence to be their full, authentic selves.
Because there is nothing unmanly about tears.
There is beauty in vulnerability.
There is courage in feeling deeply.
And there is strength in knowing that you’re safe to do so.
Alison Lowell is a contributor on Songs of Motherhood, Għanjiet l-Omm Volumes II and III. Volumes available for purchase here.
