There Is No Shame in Stepping Away From a Toxic Family

In Africa, we often grow up with the belief that parents are small gods. Their word is unquestionable, their authority unquestioned. Even when they cause harm, we are told to “honor them,” keep silent, and “respect your elders.” But what happens when the people who brought you into the world are the very ones who bruise your body, crush your spirit, and suffocate your freedom?

Let us face it. Sometimes, family is toxic. The favoritism, the emotional blackmail, the religious impositions, the physical violence, it can get unbearable. Yet society keeps chanting: “But that is your mother…that is your father.”

Take the case of one woman I heard about who believed in the African Traditional religion. She always sacrificed the best meals to her gods, forcing her children to either serve her gods and eat good meals, or serve their God and starve.

Or consider a friend who intimated to me that her mother paraded her favorite child like a crown jewel while the rest were workhorses. Favors, treats, praise? Reserved for the chosen one. Heavy chores, blame, and punishment? That was for the others. The result? A family civil war that still rages decades later. The mother lit the fire, but the siblings now carry the embers of bitterness into adulthood.

We do not like to say it out loud, but here is the truth: sometimes the only way to save yourself is to cut family off. Yes, it is unpopular. Yes, aunties and uncles will accuse you of being disrespectful. Yes, society will drag you as the ungrateful child who “forgot where they came from.” But here is the bigger picture: what use is family if they constantly tear you down, poison your peace, and curse your future with words and actions?

Cutting them off does not always mean disowning them in public drama. It can be quiet. You simply stop giving them the power to harm you. Minimize contact. Refuse to engage in endless arguments. Keep conversations shallow if you must keep any at all. Protect your mental state like your life depends on it, because in many ways, it does.

Let us normalize saying no to toxic parents. Let us normalize walking away when conversations always end in insults and curses. Let us normalize choosing sanity over “family.” Blood may be thicker than water, but sometimes it clots.

Boundaries are the first weapon. You cannot control how toxic people behave, but you can control how much space they occupy in your life. Silence is the second. Not every battle deserves your breath; sometimes the strongest clapback is walking away. The third is building new systems of care. If family insists on being a storm, create your own shelter through friends, mentors, or therapy. And if all this fails, the last card is cutting ties completely. That choice is not pride; it is survival.

To those who hide behind “we are family” as an excuse to mistreat others, rethink that excuse. Family is not a license to wound people repeatedly. If your presence feels like poison, do not be surprised when someone chooses survival over bloodlines. Because family should be a home, not a battlefield.