Ideology shapes how societies justify and normalise their values, beliefs, and power structures. In the context of parenting, ideology operates subtly — often without conscious awareness — through the stories we tell, the behaviours we model and the systems we accept as “just the way things are”.
Racism and other prejudicial “isms” don’t begin in adulthood; they’re absorbed and passed down through the everyday rituals of family life. But they’re also challenged by children who ask the most critical question: “Why?”
A ‘Whindian’ millennial’s perspective on parental legacy
I am a millennial born during the crumbling years of apartheid in the early 1990s of one parent who is white and the other of predominantly Indian descent. Although I am not a parent myself, many of my contemporaries are parents.
Equipped as we are with resources that were unavailable to our parents — books on “generational trauma” and “generational curses”, for instance — we engage in discussions on “re-parenting your inner child”, and on determining the stories we want to tell our children about who we are and how we came to be.
In the first part of The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (and Your Children Will Be Glad That You Did), published in 2020, author Philippa Perry addresses “your parenting legacy”. She writes: “The cliché is true: children do not do what we say, they do what we do. Before we even consider the behaviour of our children, it’s useful — essential even — to look at their first role models. And one of them is you.”
Perry doesn’t directly address how racism and other discriminatory practices defined by “isms” are passed down through generations. However, one of the central tenets in the book is that parents often unconsciously repeat the behavioural patterns they were raised with — whether helpful or harmful.
Unless we become aware of our own childhood experiences and how they shaped us, we risk passing on our emotional baggage, unresolved trauma and unhealthy communication styles to our children. As she notes, “awareness is the first step towards change. Without it, we will simply repeat what was done to us.”
Apartheid’s lingering legacy
Miracle Rising: South Africa, produced by the History Channel, there is real footage of white children — around age seven — chanting “Hang Mandela” while marching with adults assumed to be their parents around the time of Mandela’s release from prison.
Those children would today be my contemporaries, fellow millennials. Based on my life experiences, I have strong suspicions about the kind of people those children — now possibly parents — are today.
In my own childhood in the 2000s and 2010s, I experienced racialised exclusion first hand from other children. At age six, a friend and I were told “no blacks allowed”. As a teen, I was told I could “sit with the Indian girls”. My parents taught me to confront racism, whether directed towards myself or others, with measured wit: to engage in ways that compel the offender to self-reflect or feel a measure of discomfort.
For example, when I was in Grade 11 — a time when young minds are incessantly reminded that their grades could earn them “provisional acceptance” at their university of choice — racism was particularly heightened by competitive tension.
A common slight from white learners to black peers was: “Of course you’ll get in [to university and programme of choice]”, a reference to affirmative action admissions. My parents taught me to respond with: “And what makes you say that?” — a question that provoked deafening silences, shuffling eyes and abrupt changes of subject.
Nelson Mandela in Long Walk to Freedom (1994) famously wrote: “No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love.”
To paraphrase Mandela, no one is born to hate. Such thinking is learnt — and, crucially, it can be unlearnt. Perry reminds us that “you can’t change the past, but you can influence the future by changing how you respond to what happened to you”.
Racist, sexist and other exclusionary ideologies are not merely personal prejudices; they are reinforced by cultural norms, historical narratives and institutional practices that reward conformity and punish dissent. As Perry’s work reminds us, without conscious reflection, parents risk transmitting these inherited ideologies directly to their children.
By questioning the ideological assumptions we ourselves absorbed growing up, we create space for new, more equitable world-views to take root in the next generation and generations to follow.
But beyond questioning our own assumptions, we must allow those to be challenged by children who ask “why?” and “how do you know?”
Encouraging critical questioning
Intelligent and inquisitive children often persistently ask questions such as “why?” and “how do you know?” directed at parents, teachers, religious leaders and other authority figures. While such questioning is often frustrating to adult ears, often provoking dismissive responses such as “because it just is” or “I just know”, children’s natural instinct for enquiry should not be suppressed. Rather, it should be emulated.
Children’s natural curiosity exemplifies a crucial epistemological practice: the interrogation of knowledge and how knowledge comes to be “knowledge”. This requires parenting that encourages children to “backchat” – and it is through intellectual inquisition and subtle thought provocations in everyday life and practice that meaningful social change happens.
Rather than dismissing children or punishing them for “defiant” behaviour, Perry urges us to see these moments differently: “Your child’s behaviour is a communication. Instead of reacting to the behaviour, try to understand the message.”
A moral responsibility
If we can meet children’s curiosity with openness rather than defensiveness, we equip them with the critical tools to interrogate prejudice rather than absorb it.
Perry offers a truth that resonates deeply with our generation’s responsibility: “The more we are aware of how we were parented, the more choice we have in how we parent.”
So, fellow millennials, it is our moral responsibility to deal with our generational trauma, confront our biases, and deliberately shape the narratives that we pass on so that the generations who follow inherit a legacy of curiosity, compassion and justice, rather than the debris of our unexamined past. DM