The Childhood Conversations We Need to Have
Trigger warning: This post includes references to childhood sexual abuse.
The year 2000 felt like such a big moment. I remember having stationery with “2000” printed across it, and how exciting everything felt. Those of us who grew up in the 90s will remember just how much it meant, the celebrations and the sense of a new beginning. I have fond memories of community events, of being surrounded by family and familiar faces. It felt safe, joyful, and full of innocence.
At that time, I was in primary school, young, carefree, and like most children, unaware of the kinds of experiences that can quietly take that innocence away.
Some of my memories from those years are blurred, but there are parts that remain. I realised as a young teenager, that I experienced abuse as a child. At the time, I knew something didn’t feel right, but I didn’t have the language, confidence, or understanding to make sense of it. For many years, I carried guilt and confusion, wondering if I should have known better or spoken up sooner.
It’s only later in life, through reading, reflection, and learning, that I came to understand the concept of grooming. That realisation shifted something in me. What I once saw as partly my own fault, I now recognise as something far more complex. Like many children, I was responding to kindness, attention, and small rewards, things that, on the surface, seemed harmless. But they were part of something I couldn’t fully understand at the time.
What stayed with me most was the silence. Not because I was threatened, but because I felt unsure, embarrassed, and afraid of being blamed. I didn’t know how to speak about my body, or how to explain something I didn’t fully understand myself. So I carried on as normal, as children often do.
Now, as an adult, especially after coming across so many stories and experiences of abuse, I find myself thinking about people I once knew or heard about in a different light. Situations that may have once been described as someone “going off the rails” or becoming a certain way now feel more layered and complex. It makes me pause and wonder what they may have experienced or carried in silence. While their parents or families may have been none the wiser, there are times now where, in a quiet and reflective way, it makes a little more sense to me. Not as an excuse, but as a reminder that there are often deeper stories behind what we see on the surface.
There is also a quiet reality that many parents may never fully know what their children have experienced, or even what their children may have been exposed to. Not always because they were unaware or neglectful, but because children often carry these things in silence. Fear, shame, confusion, or even not having the right words can keep them from speaking out. And so, life continues as normal on the surface. But for the child, and later the adult they become, those experiences do not simply disappear. They can carry the weight of it for years, sometimes a lifetime, trying to make sense of something they were never meant to hold on their own.
Looking back, I also recognise that there were other moments during childhood where boundaries were not as clear as they should have been. We were all playing together as children, in spaces that felt familiar and safe. Around us were older distant cousins, teenagers or young adults, who were seen as well-mannered and trustworthy in front of the adults. Because of that, there was a natural sense of ease and assumption that everything was fine.
But within those spaces, some of us as younger children were exposed to things we should not have been exposed to at that age. At the time, I did not fully understand what was happening, only that it did not feel right. And yet, like many children, I did not feel able to question it or speak about it.
As adults, we tend to trust the environments we create, family homes, gatherings, familiar faces. Most of the time, that trust is well placed. But what I have come to realise is that harm does not always come from where we expect, and it is not always obvious.
Now, as a parent, this awareness sits with me in a different way.
In recent years, especially through social media, I have come across more and more stories, experiences, and conversations around abuse. Some of them are deeply painful to read, and at times overwhelming. In many ways, this increased awareness has been beneficial. It has helped me understand things I never had the words for as a child. It has helped me realise I was not alone.
But at the same time, it has also increased my fear.
Because what I have come to understand is that it is not always adults who harm children. Sometimes, it is other children. Sometimes it comes from curiosity, from exposure, or from something they themselves have experienced. And often, it can go completely unnoticed.
Children may not fully understand what they are doing. They may not have been guided, corrected, or protected themselves. It does not make them “bad”, but it does remind us how important it is to be aware, to guide, and to gently teach boundaries from a young age.
This is the part that sits heavily with me. The idea that, in certain circumstances, it could be any child. Including our own. Not out of malice, but out of curiosity, imitation, or lack of understanding.
As a Muslim, this also makes me reflect deeply on the concept of amanah, the trust that Allah has placed upon us as parents. Our children are not just ours to love, but ours to protect, nurture, and guide in a way that is pleasing to Him. We are entrusted with their physical safety, their emotional wellbeing, and their sense of dignity and modesty.
At the same time, our faith teaches us balance. We are told to tie our camel and then place our trust in Allah. We take the means, but we also recognise that ultimately, Allah is Al-Hafeez, the One who protects.
This balance is not always easy.
On one hand, I know I cannot control every moment. I cannot watch my children every second of the day. Life does not work that way. On the other hand, my own experiences and what I have learned over time make it difficult to ignore the risks that can exist, even in seemingly safe spaces.
So I try to do what I can, within reason, without letting fear completely take over.
For me, that looks like putting certain boundaries in place, not from a place of judgement, but from a place of care, reflection, and responsibility.
- Being mindful about sleepovers and where my children stay
- Encouraging them to remain in shared, open spaces when playing
- Keeping doors open and maintaining a general awareness of their environment
- Being mindful of their environment and social settings, including our choice to home educate, which helps us stay more aware of what they are exposed to and supports us in guiding them in line with our values
- Monitoring screen time and online access in age-appropriate ways
- Having ongoing, gentle conversations about their bodies, boundaries, and what feels okay or not
- Reminding them that they can always come to me, no matter what, without fear of being told off or blamed
Even with all of this, I know that no approach is perfect. Children are naturally curious, and they are still learning. They will make mistakes. They will explore. And sometimes, despite our best efforts, things can still happen.
What matters most to me is that my children feel safe enough to speak. That they are not carrying confusion or fear in silence. That they know their voice matters.
I also remind myself that many of our parents did the best they could with what they knew at the time. Conversations around these topics were not as open. Awareness was limited. It is easy to look back with questions, but I try to hold space for understanding too.
Our circumstances, capacities, and choices as parents will all look different. What feels manageable for one family may not be for another, and that is okay. This is not about setting a standard or creating fear. It is simply a reflection shaped by my own experiences, my faith, and the responsibility I feel as a parent.
If anything, I hope this encourages gentle awareness. A reminder to stay present, to keep communication open, and to guide our children with both care and compassion.
May Allah protect all of our children, grant us wisdom in raising them, and keep them safe from harm, seen and unseen.
I would be interested to hear your thoughts. What feels important to you when it comes to keeping your children safe, while still allowing them the space to grow?