We often say that there’s no handbook to parenthood — and that’s true. But we’re also not parenting from a clean slate. Our parental “instincts” are often rooted in tradition and shaped by the world around us. Colonial systems have huge influences over us, our parents, our grandparents and beyond. These systems prioritize control, hierarchy, and obedience over trust and relationship. We learn them in our homes, classrooms, hospitals, media, and nearly every interaction we have with the society.

Parenting isn’t easy. It’s not something that we’re born knowing how to do. We learn how to do it along the way. And many of us are trying to create healthy childhoods while still healing from our own.

Here are three things that I’m actively unlearning as an Indigenous parent working to decolonize my homefire.

1. Children Deserve Bodily Autonomy
Many of us were taught that children owe physical affection to adults. We’ve heard it before: “Give them a hug,” “Don’t be rude,” “Give me a kiss,” and if we resisted we were labeled as disobedient or disrespectful.

I’m unlearning that. My child’s body is his own. He decides who touches him and when. He’s allowed to say no — even to me. I’ve realized that I can’t expect him to be able to set boundaries when he’s an adult if I don’t let him practice now. .

I’m raising a son and I hope he grows up to be a kind, considerate man. I want him to be decent and respectful to others. If he enters a partnership one day, I want him to be a source of safety. But he can’t offer that unless he knows what safety feels like himself.

That starts with the basics of consent. Our sons need to feel empowered to say and hear no. They need to understand that no one is entitled to their bodies and they aren’t entitled to anyone else’s.

Bodily autonomy isn’t something that we earn as we get older — it’s something we all deserve from the beginning. Teaching consent starts in the small, everyday moments that feel minor but aren’t.

2. Control Is Not the Same as Safety

A lot of the parenting we’ve inherited teaches that keeping kids safe means keeping them tightly controlled. This usually comes from a place of love — we want to protect our children and keep them safe. But I’ve come to understand that control isn’t the same as safety.

We need to build trust, not micromanage every move. Children who trust their caregivers are safer than children who don’t.

Colonial systems teach us to parent with authority: take charge, stay in control, maintain order. These approaches focus on controlling behaviours and emotions and reinforcing a strict child-parent hierarchy. But authoritativeness doesn’t create connection — it creates distance. It teaches our children to comply before they understand, to silence their instincts instead of listening to them.

Now, when I feel that urge to correct or command, I pause. I ask myself: is my child actually unsafe — or am I just uncomfortable with letting go? That small moment of reflection often changes the whole energy.

This isn’t about being permissive. It’s about being present.

3. Obedience Isn’t the Goal
I used to think that a “good” child was the one who listened the first time — the one who was quiet, polite, and didn’t talk back. That’s what I was told by my caregivers and probably what they were told, too.

But, the more I reflect on that definition of a “good” child, the more I see its roots in colonial systems of order and power. The shadows that the Residential School Era casts are long and dark. For generations, children were shown a model of parenting that was based in dominance and dehumanization.

Unquestioning obedience doesn’t teach kids to think for themselves, it teaches them how to shrink.

Now, I try to create space for conversation, not just correction. I want my child to feel safe asking why and to feel heard when he says no. That doesn’t mean there aren’t hard boundaries — it just means those boundaries are built with care, not fear.

Final Reflection
Decolonizing parenting isn’t a checklist. It’s slow. It’s layered. It’s personal. And sometimes, it’s uncomfortable. But in the unlearning, there is so much room for something sacred: trust and connection that doesn’t come at the cost of someone’s voice.

Decolonizing parenting is a return — a return to relationship, to respect, to rhythms that center care over control.

Some days, I get it wrong. I raise my voice. I lose my patience. I forget to pause. But unlearning isn’t about perfection — it’s about presence. It’s about accountability and being willing to show up differently, again and again.

In all that unlearning, I find myself rooted in something softer: a kind of connection that doesn’t demand silence or obedience.

Please note: this article was originally published on Medium.com.