Do Your Parents Kiss?

TL;DR: Growing up, affection was pretty much nonexistent, but thanks to good talks, safe communities, and life doing its thing, I learned to embrace affection and intimacy.

In the 2nd grade, I had this short stint where I'd ask my friends if they'd ever seen their parents kiss. (Yes, I've been nosey! Been weird! And IDGAF!) Most would say yes, some with disgust, others with casual indifference. And since kid conversations are usually imitative, the question would bounce back to me. I'd always say yes, knowing it was a lie.

The truth is, I hadn't seen my parents kiss. I still haven't. My parents have been married for over 30 years, and I've never seen them even hug each other. I've never seen any typical signs of affection: no hand grazing the shoulder, no peck on the cheek, NADA.

Looking back, it was odd to ask other kids about their parents kissing, but I was trying to make sense of my reality. I was trying to piece together my parents' relationship. I was trying to understand what the lack of affection meant. As a kid, kissing meant you liked someone, right? I knew that because we'd seen it on TV and in movies. Whenever someone wanted someone else, and maybe they were unsure if their feelings would be reciprocated, a kiss was like confirmation—a physical affirmation. Kisses sealed the deal!

Instead of moving on like a typical kid and not processing what this meant until much later in life, I got to thinking. Warning: you are about to witness what a child spiraling looks like in the following paragraph (anxiety has been whooping my ass since I was a youngin'). My thoughts went something like this:

Parents are supposed to like each other, so they should kiss. Does this mean my parents don’t like each other? And if they do like each other, why haven't I seen them kiss? Why don't my parents give me hugs or pecks like other parents do when dropping their kids off at school? Does this mean that they don't like me either?

Now, I won't pretend my mom NEVER hugged me. She hugged me almost every Sunday at Mass. Was that hug most likely given because it would look absolutely bonkers to shake your parents' hands as you do with strangers before holy communion? Definitely! But I was so excited to receive that crumb of performative affection. When we missed church, I would feel disappointed, not because I missed out on the good word (sorry, God xoxo) but because I wouldn't get physical confirmation that let me at least FEEL like she liked me, even if just for a moment.  

As time passed, I assimilated to my household's lack of affection, no longer having anticipation or desire. I stopped wondering what the lack of affection meant. The absence became normal. It wasn't until I went to college that the topic of affection resurfaced, but with an added layer of intimacy, which was something I had never experienced but conceptually understood through TV, movies, and books. I knew and accepted that I was raised without genuine affection, but I didn't realize how intensely it also led me to protect myself from emotional connection and exposure.

For many of us, college forced us to be vulnerable interpersonally, socially, and academically. Where else do you go and see your chemistry exam posted outside the lab wall so everyone can see that you don't understand the difference between enantiomers and diastereomers (non-STEM kiddos, don’t even worry about it). There's vulnerability and community in walking back to the dorms with your under-the-curve midterm scores in hand. 

Aside from the academic hazing, college was a time when many of us shared where we came from, who we are, who we want to be, and, more importantly, why. We usually learned this information through those random late-night dorm chats. These are the ones where things got DEEP, and people bared their souls in attempts to find community, comfort, reassurance, or release. 

Initially, I wasn't a contributor during these discussions. My parents taught us that emotional vulnerability was a weakness and something that you should guard because others may use it against you or to harm you (I don't understand why Nigerian parents feel like ops are always lurking). As more and more of the talks happened, I started to learn that I wasn't alone. Many of those who shared the same experiences also came from African backgrounds. Most had rarely, if ever, seen their parents hug or kiss each other. Most of us were uncomfortable or approached affection and intimacy with unfamiliarity and suspicion.

I have MANY thoughts about why affection and intimacy aren't prioritized or modeled well in many African households (and the effects). Still, I won't get started because I will go on for forty days and forty nights (Instead, I'll save it for another post).

For a while now, I've happily accepted, embraced, and shared affection and intimacy (even if awkwardly) in many of my platonic, non-platonic, and familial relationships. This "undoing" wasn’t easy. There were many trials and errors, stumbling, and even times where I thought, "hm, maybe there's no point to changing." When I think about how safe, happy, and assured I feel in relationships where expressing and receiving affection and intimacy are natural, unquestioned, and consistent, I know the struggle to find my way was worth it, both for the people in my life now and in my future. 

I do wonder who else had similar or different experiences and how they think it impacted them. So, if you feel comfortable sharing, I'd love to know if you had a similar or different experience than my late-night dorm room clique. 

If you also went through a period of "undoing" or are currently in one, what did you do/what are you doing? Was it/would it be worth it?

Till next time!