“What Will People Say?”: Nigerians Share How Their Parents’ People-Pleasing Hurt Them

There’s a belief that African parents can go to great lengths to keep up appearances because they care so much about what people will say. Sometimes, that concern comes at their children’s expense. 

In this story, nine Nigerians recount the hurtful moments when their parents put other people’s opinions and feelings before their own.

I realised how much my mum cared about other people’s opinions  at her friend’s birthday party last year. Shortly after we arrived, one of her friends saw me at the carpark and commented that my dress was too tight and short. My mum immediately joined in, calling me an ashewo and saying that this was why I never had respectable people around me.

I reminded her that she’d seen what I was wearing before we left home, but that only made it worse. She raised her voice until she created a scene and even said I couldn’t enter the venue with her. I was so embarrassed that I went home. What hurt most was how easily she moved on afterwards. She never apologised and acted as though nothing had happened.

My dad is well-off, but it doesn’t reflect in our lives. I currently stay in a run-down school hostel even though he can afford private accommodation. Before this session, I begged him to let me leave because I’d fallen sick several times from the mosquitoes, poor water, and hygiene, but he still refused to pay ₦400k for a private hostel.

Then my cousin got married that same month and my dad gifted them ₦700k on top of all his other contributions. He did that openly knowing people would praise his generosity. Meanwhile, his own children are struggling with basic things. We can’t even buy Nutella at home because he complains about the cost. I hate watching people praise him for doing good things when his own family has to suffer.

My mum took in her older brother after he had a stroke. His family had abandoned him years ago because of his abusive behaviour, but my mum felt responsible for him because she’s the only daughter in the family. The problem is that she’s now put most of that responsibility on me because I’m currently unemployed. She expects me to clean up after him, even when he soils himself.

I’ve begged her to at least pay someone to help, but she says it would make the family look bad if we couldn’t care for our own. Meanwhile, I’m struggling to keep up with my master’s programme because  caring for him is time consuming. I’m trying not to resent the situation, but it’s hard when no one cares about me. 

My mum is a chronic liar, and growing up around her has affected me. She’d wear fake gold and tell people she’d spent millions on it. Sometimes, she’d even go into debt to attend parties with her wealthy friends. Meanwhile, we’d be struggling at home, but she was too proud to ask them for help because she wanted to maintain a certain image.

Recently, I realised I’ve started doing the same thing. I travelled home from school by bus and got home around midnight, but when one of my mum’s friends’ children asked about  my journey, I immediately said, ‘Oh, my flight was smooth.’ It was such a pointless lie, and I didn’t even know why I told it. Watching my mum constantly create a better version of our lives to impress people has made me feel like I have to do the same. I feel sad and ashamed.

Shortly before my dad passed, he gave one of my uncles a huge sum of money to start a farming business. But my uncle disappeared with the money, and the business never happened. They continued to have issues over it until my dad died.

Afterwards, my uncle suddenly took charge of the burial preparations as if nothing had happened. I got upset when he started pushing for an elaborate celebration because we were still struggling with medical and funeral expenses. I called him out and said that if he returned some of the money he took, maybe we’d actually be able to afford a big burial. My mum was furious and said people would blame her for not raising her children to respect their elders. She refused to eat until I apologised to him. 

I feel like I was pressured into medical school because of my parents’ expectations. My mum always told people I was very smart, even though I was an average student, because  she really wanted to have a doctor as a child. I didn’t want to study medicine, but I went along with it and struggled through my first year before the school eventually moved me to biochemistry.

The frustrating part is that my mum still tells people she has a medical doctor as a son. It puts me in a position where I have to lie or play along whenever she talks about me. 

My mum’s older sister raised her, so when she needed someone to help around the house, my mum volunteered to send me. Instead of treating me like family, they treated me like a maid. I lived with them from JSS1 to SS2, and constantly complained to my parents about the maltreatment and the poor school I attended. My mum refused to intervene because she didn’t want to upset him.

Eventually, I ran away and returned  home. My mum still wanted to send me back until other family members intervened. She seemed more upset about how I left than what had made me leave in the first place. Even though it’s been many years, I’m glad I left when I did. 

I was raised in an enclosed and abusive church environment. I can’t even begin to explain the extent of what I experienced, but I thought it was normal because that was all I knew. As I got older, I noticed too many contradictions and hypocrisies. Earlier this year, I realised that the church no longer aligned with my values and stopped going.

My dad, who is a pastor, was distraught. He tried everything to get me back, from insulting and berating me to begging and emotionally blackmailing me. Eventually,  I returned just to keep the peace. He said he didn’t care that I no longer believed, but people in the church were already spreading rumours that I wasn’t attending because I had joined some fraudsters in our area. So every Sunday, I have to sit through church and pretend I want to be there.

One of my teachers used to single me out and bully me when I was a preteen. One day, he beat me so badly that I needed to go to the hospital. All because I couldn’t answer a question in class.

My mum was shaken and wanted to take action, but my dad refused. The teacher was an influential member of an association my dad belonged to, and he didn’t want to cause trouble. He wouldn’t even confront him or change my school. The teacher got away with it and continued to harass me. I was always a target, and no matter how much I complained, nothing was done. It happened many years ago, but I still think about it.

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