Being Southern is something I cherish deeply. Our culture is rich and distinctive; we take pride in our deliciously seasoned food, the polite “excuse me” when we bump into someone, and let’s not forget how the humidity works wonders for our skin and hair. However, as much as I love my Southern roots, there are aspects of the culture that I find troubling. The most glaring issue, of course, is the rampant racism that persists; but a close second is the prevalent practice of spanking—also known as “whooping”—children.
The pressure on Southern children, particularly Black ones, to be well-behaved and polished is immense. There’s a heavy expectation not to embarrass your family or to “act like you don’t have any ‘home training,’” as we say down South, and this pressure often comes at a significant cost. One of the most common consequences of this upbringing is physical punishment.
As a Black child growing up in the South, it’s almost a given that you will experience and perhaps even administer whoopings. This has become a cultural norm. Many believe that such discipline is a continuation of historically authoritarian parenting styles prevalent in Black communities. Others argue that it’s a necessary measure to prepare children for a world that can be unforgiving. It’s a disturbing notion, to say the least.
While intentions behind this practice may stem from a desire to protect, I argue that inflicting pain is not the answer. It’s heartbreaking to think that many Black parents feel the need to resort to hitting their children as a form of protection. I’ve been guilty of this thought process myself in the past, but I’ve come to realize that physical discipline does not yield positive results. Research backs this up, citing a long list of negative effects associated with spanking.
My understanding of the ineffectiveness of spanking comes from my own experiences as a strong-willed child. I often found myself in trouble for merely talking too much. Unfortunately, the educational system does not always consider the context of a child’s behaviors, and I faced harsher punishments than warranted. In fact, I was subjected to paddling in kindergarten, as my principal had the authority to administer physical punishment.
Had I been a different kind of child, perhaps my experiences would have been different. However, being a Black girl, I faced a higher likelihood of severe punishment in school, including suspension. It was clear that the odds were stacked against me. Despite being punished at school and sometimes at home, neither approach curbed my behavior. The issue wasn’t that I was misbehaving; it was that I was bored and needed stimulation.
What I truly needed was an adult who could see beyond my talkative nature and recognize my intelligence. Sadly, few educators were willing to meet that challenge. Instead of conforming, I grew more rebellious and resistant to punishment. Once someone has laid a hand on you, it’s hard to take any other form of discipline seriously.
Fast forward to today, and I see those same strong-willed traits mirrored in my son. I know that for him, spanking would be just as ineffective. It’s challenging to parent in a manner that contradicts my upbringing, especially when I notice the judgmental glances from other Southerners when he misbehaves.
Nevertheless, I persist. I’m determined to find parenting methods that will help my children navigate the challenges of racism without resorting to physical punishment. I won’t claim to stand on a moral high ground; I’ve slipped back into old habits at times. Yet, each misstep reinforces my resolve to refrain from hitting my children. It requires conscious effort and a deliberate choice to break the cycle.
I know I’m not alone. Many Black parents want to equip their children to face racism without resorting to violence. In those frustrating moments, I remind myself that no one has the right to harm my kids—not even me.
For more insights on parenting and navigating challenges, check out this article on home insemination kits and learn about the nuances of reproductive health at Intracervical Insemination, where they provide valuable information on this topic. Additionally, the NHS offers excellent resources for those interested in pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, being a Black Southern parent raises unique challenges, particularly concerning the cultural expectation of physical discipline. Though I sometimes struggle against these norms, I’m committed to finding better methods to raise my children with love and understanding, steering clear of the cycle of violence.
