Why Are Women So Cruel To Children?

My dad had an accident on Christmas Eve in 2007. That unfortunate event changed my family and the course of my life. One of my uncles came home and took …

Relationship Nov 11, 2025 0 8 Add to Reading List

My dad had an accident on Christmas Eve in 2007. That unfortunate event changed my family and the course of my life. One of my uncles came home and took me away to live with him. He looked like wealth and smelled like riches. He had a kind smile too. Despite his countenance, he spoke to me softly. He said, “I am your father’s brother so that makes you my son. I will take good care of you.” I believed him. I expected to live a good life wherever he was taking me.

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My uncle, indeed, was a father to me. It was his wife who treated me like a stray cat she didn’t want in her life. All my life, I saw myself as a strong person. Despite the challenges I faced living with my parents and siblings, nothing could keep me down. I always had a positive outlook on life. My uncle’s wife took that childlike hope in the world away from me.

Piece by piece, she broke me. I no longer knew who I was. I lost my self-confidence completely. I could never do anything right in that woman’s life. She criticised me for just existing.

My uncle was a contractor so he was rarely home. Sometimes he could be gone for a whole year. All I had was his wife and she made sure I knew I didn’t belong in their home. It was hell.

Her favourite punishment was starving me. It got so bad that I developed ulcers. The pain whenever I managed to eat was unbearable. So sometimes I rejected food altogether. Instead of showing concern, she accused me of eating from our neighbours — that’s why, according to her, I refused to eat her food.

She was against anyone offering me help. It was as if she wanted to see me miserable.

By JHS 2, my school uniform had turned into rags, so I borrowed one from a senior who had completed school. My uncle’s wife got angry when she saw the attire. She ranted and raved and insisted I return it. Meanwhile, my shorts were patched all over. Even seamstresses didn’t know how to mend them anymore.

The maltreatment got worse when she turned our neighbours against me. They reported everything I did, whether true or false, she didn’t care to listen to me. She would just punish me. She even started hitting my head with wood. According to her, my brain was too dull so she was activating it. If I cried, she would hit me harder. “I don’t want to see one tear drop from your eyes,” she would warn.

The only places I found peace were at church and school. I used to dread weekends and vacations because I knew what awaited me at home.

After my BECE, I worked for four months, but she took all my earnings. When I asked for my money after the results were released, she told me she used it to buy medicine for her sick daughter. That was how I lost everything I had worked for.

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What hurt me most was how she pretended to be an angel whenever others shared stories of being mistreated. She played the “Holy Mary” role so convincingly that no one suspected her true nature.

Now, I’m grown and working. I earn a decent pay. By all standards, I should be a happy man but I know I am not right. That woman took something from me that no amount of money can replace — my self-confidence.

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Back in school, I used to represent my class in quizzes, but I stopped because I struggled with body odour and was constantly mocked by my classmates. I used to borrow shoes and uniforms just to participate, but the ridicule pushed me away. Sometimes I think about it and wonder if someone could have noticed me and changed my story if I had continued.

It still drains me whenever I remember how much harm she caused me. I hold nothing against her, but I can’t help asking: Why is it often that women play the cruellest roles when it comes to raising children?