When the Headlines Enter Our Home: On power, control, and the conversations we have with our children
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Lately, the headlines have been loud.
Even when we don’t have the news on, the language of it finds its way into our homes—through social media, overheard conversations, school, or the quiet curiosity of our children who are trying to make sense of the world they’re inheriting.
This week, it was a headline about Venezuela. About drugs. About power. About Donald Trump positioning himself, once again, as the one who can “fix” something broken.
And suddenly, I wasn’t just reading the news—I was answering questions.
I’m a mother raising children who live with nuance every day. One of my children holds dual citizenship. That alone invites real conversations about identity, belonging, and perspective. There is no single story that fits neatly into a headline. There never has been.
So when my son asked questions, I didn’t rush to give him an answer. I paused.
Because what I want my children to learn is not what to think—but how to think.
The stories we’re told about power
When political figures talk about other countries, especially in language that paints them as dangerous, corrupt, or criminal, it’s worth slowing down.
Not to deny that corruption exists.
Not to pretend suffering isn’t real.
But to ask better questions:
- Who is telling this story?
- What are they emphasizing—and what are they leaving out?
- Who benefits from fear?
- And who pays the price?
Often, what we’re witnessing isn’t just foreign policy—it’s a familiar pattern of control disguised as protection. A strong voice claiming certainty. A simplified villain. A promise of safety if we stop questioning and start trusting the “hero.”
Children can sense this. They feel the emotional tone long before they understand the politics.
So I name it gently:
Fear is often used to gain power. Certainty can be comforting—but it can also be a way to shut down dialogue.
From world leaders to everyday relationships
What struck me, as I sat with these conversations, is how recognizable this pattern is.
Because control doesn’t only show up on a global stage.
It shows up in romantic relationships where one person positions themselves as the authority.
In co-parenting dynamics where fear, guilt, or dominance replaces collaboration.
In intimate spaces where questioning is met with defensiveness instead of curiosity.
I’ve lived this.
I’ve experienced what it feels like when someone claims to know what’s best for you, while slowly eroding your voice. When protection becomes possession. When “certainty” leaves no room for your truth.
And I know now—both as a woman and as a mother—that this is not strength.
It’s insecurity wearing armor.
What I want my children to learn
I don’t need my children to agree with me politically.
I need them to trust themselves.
I want them to know that:
- Multiple truths can exist at once
- Loud confidence is not the same as wisdom
- Authority should never require silence
- Fear is a poor substitute for understanding
Most of all, I want them to feel safe asking questions—at our kitchen table, in their relationships, and within themselves.
Because a world that discourages curiosity is a world that’s easy to control.
Choosing discernment over certainty
This isn’t about demonizing one leader or defending another.
It’s about recognizing patterns.
When we teach children to notice how power moves—rather than simply who holds it—we give them something far more valuable than answers.
We give them agency.
And in a loud world full of simplified stories, that feels like a radical act of love.