Description
Why do we tell children, "Don't cry"? Through stories from Japan, Belgium, and beyond, we explore what these simple words reveal about the way we understand and respond to emotions.
Hosted on Ausha. See ausha.co/privacy-policy for more information.
Transcription
Hi, my name is Hélène, I'm Belgian, and about 10 years ago I met my husband in Japan. Since then, my life has slowly taken root between two cultures and several languages. I studied, and later worked, in a field that looks at how society shapes our habits, often without us even noticing. Today, I still find myself asking these questions. In a conversation, in a child's words, in a sentence overheard in the streets, in Japan, in Europe, a little bit everywhere. This podcast looks at how our words and everyday gestures reflect the way we see the world. I picture them as seeds, light, almost insignificant, yet always carrying something of the soil they came from. And when they spread, When there are many of them, they begin to shape a landscape. They draw a path that can guide our lives. Here, we observe without judging. We're not looking for one single truth. We're simply making space to be surprised and to think a little about the power of ordinary things. Welcome to Kotoba no Me. Don't cry. Is it a phrase you've said before? Or maybe one you heard when you were a child? Sometimes, it's a tender phrase. Don't cry, or I'll start crying too. Or, don't cry, everything is okay, I'm here for you. Then sometimes, the tone changes. Oh, just stop crying already. It can also take other forms. Oh, come on, it's not a big deal. Or it can be said without words. A hand that says stop, or just a cold look. But what's hidden underneath? What's the deeper message? Sometimes our child's sadness becomes our own, and we'll do anything to make it stop. That's totally natural. Sometimes, it's because of embarrassment. Maybe we're afraid of disturbing people passing by, or the neighbors who are trying to sleep. And that can push us to say it too. Sometimes, sadness, or big emotions in general, wakes up a kind of survival instinct in the parents. My therapist once said, I reacted as though a lion was chasing me whenever my child became completely overwhelmed. As if my whole body had been trained to tense up at the smallest sign of emotion. But whatever the exact words, and whatever the original intention, the desired effect is often the same, to stop the emotion. And children understand this very quickly. Here, my sadness is not welcome. It's better if I don't show it. On this point, the research agrees across Europe, the United States, and Japan. When children have space to express what they feel, when their emotions are welcomed instead of cut off, they learn to understand and manage them. They calm down more easily, they understand better what's happening inside them, and they find the words to say it. And later, we can see the effects. They communicate more easily, they understand others, better and they trust what they feel. When children don't have that space, when we tell them to stop crying or simply look away, they quickly learn to hide what they feel. Short term, it can look like strength, but more often it creates tension. The child stiffens. They become angry instead of crying. Over time, they lose the words. They no longer know how to name what they're going through or how to ask for help. Little by little, they may start to believe that their emotions matter less and that it's better to keep them quiet. Then, we can see two main paths. Some children keep everything inside. Anxiety, sadness, tiredness. Others let everything come out all at once. Often through anger or rough behavior. In both cases, the child learns to survive their emotions instead of learning to live with them. And we know this can make them more fragile, both with themselves and with others. This don't cry, I've also heard it hundreds of times in French. Arrête de pleurer. And it's not just an impression. Research shows that in Europe and in the US, sadness is less tolerated, especially in boys. It's the old, boys don't cry. As adults, we react differently to children's emotions depending on whether they come from a boy or a girl, often without even realizing it. I remember one study that really stayed with me when I was a student. Adults interpreted a baby's cries differently depending on the baby's gender, even though, at that age, babies cry in the same way. They were already... assigning masculinity or femininity, and even perceiving the baby's distress differently. For me, that was a shock. Our unconscious mind is powerful, and it acts before we know we're biased, a kind of collective reflex, shaping how we raise children, even when we don't intend to. And what about Japan? Things are a little different here, but maybe not as different as we might think. Talking about emotion does not have exactly the same meaning as in Europe or in America. Group harmony, wa, is central here. Expressing so-called negative emotions like sadness or anger can feel costly, especially in public. So there is a general pressure for both boys and girls to contain big emotions, not to take up too much space and to remain measured. Still, Japanese studies also show that parental expectations are not neutral. Boys are expected to be more independent, more assertive, and more successful. Fathers, in particular, tend to be stricter with them. Girls, on the other hand, are expected to show more communal qualities. Gentleness, harmony, warmth towards others. If we translate these expectations into emotions, The picture becomes quite clear. For boys, self-control becomes a norm, almost a moral duty. For girls, the expectation is more about knowing how to manage other people's emotions. Several Japanese studies show this. By primary school, boys already have a smaller emotional vocabulary than girls. In adolescence, they struggle more to reflect on their feelings, to turn inward. They often describe attitudes like I prefer to focus on facts rather than on my feelings. Or, analyzing my emotions doesn't really help me solve my problems. This is sometimes called an outward orientation. Turning toward action and facts rather than toward feelings. Boys also tend to express their emotion in more destructive or externalized ways. In Japanese, this is called hakaiteki hyōshutsu. It means Anger that comes out instead of being understood. For girls, it's a lot different. On average, they have a larger emotional vocabulary. They express their feelings in more constructive ways. And in adulthood, women generally express more emotions than men, partly because they've been a little more allowed to do so. We could say that boys learn to keep things to themselves, to minimize what they feel and sometimes to transform that feeling into something else, often anger. Girls also learn to contain their emotions, but they're also expected to communicate, to create connections, to comfort others. And these effects don't stop in childhood. Over time, the little don't cry moments become ways of being- internal reflexes, almost automatic. In adulthood, this can look like alexithymia, a real difficulty identifying and describing what we feel. And for many men, especially, silence can become the default setting. But study after study links these patterns to higher risk behaviors. Aggression, self-destruction, deeper social isolation. In Japan, for example, Men are more likely than women to have no regular contact with others. These patterns are also linked to higher alcohol or substance abuse. And in the most extreme cases, they can mean asking for psychological help too late, sometimes until the worst happens. In both Japan and Belgium, almost 70% of suicides are among men. Of course, these behaviors cannot be explained only by hearing or repeating stop crying. There are thousands of reasons why someone can feel lonely or depressed, whether a man or woman, in our society. But stop crying is part of it. One small thread in a much larger web. There are women who grew up in families where emotions were not expressed, who today struggle to identify what they feel, and who sometimes translate those emotions into anger. And I can totally relate. There are also men who grew up with repeated, don't cry, be strong, who are now the ones shaping the landscape of our society. We grew up seeing men around us hold back their emotions. our fathers, our teachers, our movie heroes, our favorite characters. I think of a beautiful song famous in Japan. It has a special meaning in my family, because it was already a love song that my Japanese grandfather-in-law listened to, thinking about his wife when they were separated. I used to listen to it myself during the long months of separation from the man who is now my husband. Sakamoto Kiyū sang this song It's a song about a man who looks up while crying so his tears won't fall. Sixty years later, my five-year-old son also hides his tears when he watches a sad movie. These words, this vision of the world, we have inherited them. None of us is above these automatic reactions. We simply carry them. This week, while I was writing this episode, my son dropped part of his ice cream. and cried in total despair. The first words out of my mouth? Stop crying I caught myself with a small shock. Just one hour earlier, I'd been reading a study about the lack of emotional vocabulary among boys in the first year of primary school. So, I took a deep breath, I corrected myself, and I said, You're really disappointed that your ice cream fell. I understand. It wasn't easy. The crying continued for about 10 minutes, and I also had to make something clear. Understanding his emotion didn't mean I was going to buy him another ice cream. Still, the storm ended in a long hug, and my son had space to feel his sadness and learn what disappointment is. Was my reaction the best one? Maybe not. Maybe we can simply answer a child's sadness by saying, I'm here, or say nothing, but stay close. Should we always welcome every emotion? The emotion itself, probably, yes. But not every behavior is acceptable. And it's the role of adults to help children learn how to navigate that. This episode is not meant to give one single theory or a ready-made answer. The goal is simply to enjoy rethinking where our words come from, what they carry, and where they take us. In this podcast, you'll quickly see that words are connected, like a spider's web. We've only touched on it today, but next to don't cry, there are phrases like be strong, be good, and many other small words and gestures of everyday life that together form the same spider's web of our society. But I won't say more for now. All of that will be explored in future episodes, together with many other themes. So please feel free to subscribe and share this podcast with people around you. See you next time as we continue discovering together what our words plant around us. Bye
7sec
1min
3min
5min
9min
11min
13min
Description
Why do we tell children, "Don't cry"? Through stories from Japan, Belgium, and beyond, we explore what these simple words reveal about the way we understand and respond to emotions.
Hosted on Ausha. See ausha.co/privacy-policy for more information.
Transcription
Hi, my name is Hélène, I'm Belgian, and about 10 years ago I met my husband in Japan. Since then, my life has slowly taken root between two cultures and several languages. I studied, and later worked, in a field that looks at how society shapes our habits, often without us even noticing. Today, I still find myself asking these questions. In a conversation, in a child's words, in a sentence overheard in the streets, in Japan, in Europe, a little bit everywhere. This podcast looks at how our words and everyday gestures reflect the way we see the world. I picture them as seeds, light, almost insignificant, yet always carrying something of the soil they came from. And when they spread, When there are many of them, they begin to shape a landscape. They draw a path that can guide our lives. Here, we observe without judging. We're not looking for one single truth. We're simply making space to be surprised and to think a little about the power of ordinary things. Welcome to Kotoba no Me. Don't cry. Is it a phrase you've said before? Or maybe one you heard when you were a child? Sometimes, it's a tender phrase. Don't cry, or I'll start crying too. Or, don't cry, everything is okay, I'm here for you. Then sometimes, the tone changes. Oh, just stop crying already. It can also take other forms. Oh, come on, it's not a big deal. Or it can be said without words. A hand that says stop, or just a cold look. But what's hidden underneath? What's the deeper message? Sometimes our child's sadness becomes our own, and we'll do anything to make it stop. That's totally natural. Sometimes, it's because of embarrassment. Maybe we're afraid of disturbing people passing by, or the neighbors who are trying to sleep. And that can push us to say it too. Sometimes, sadness, or big emotions in general, wakes up a kind of survival instinct in the parents. My therapist once said, I reacted as though a lion was chasing me whenever my child became completely overwhelmed. As if my whole body had been trained to tense up at the smallest sign of emotion. But whatever the exact words, and whatever the original intention, the desired effect is often the same, to stop the emotion. And children understand this very quickly. Here, my sadness is not welcome. It's better if I don't show it. On this point, the research agrees across Europe, the United States, and Japan. When children have space to express what they feel, when their emotions are welcomed instead of cut off, they learn to understand and manage them. They calm down more easily, they understand better what's happening inside them, and they find the words to say it. And later, we can see the effects. They communicate more easily, they understand others, better and they trust what they feel. When children don't have that space, when we tell them to stop crying or simply look away, they quickly learn to hide what they feel. Short term, it can look like strength, but more often it creates tension. The child stiffens. They become angry instead of crying. Over time, they lose the words. They no longer know how to name what they're going through or how to ask for help. Little by little, they may start to believe that their emotions matter less and that it's better to keep them quiet. Then, we can see two main paths. Some children keep everything inside. Anxiety, sadness, tiredness. Others let everything come out all at once. Often through anger or rough behavior. In both cases, the child learns to survive their emotions instead of learning to live with them. And we know this can make them more fragile, both with themselves and with others. This don't cry, I've also heard it hundreds of times in French. Arrête de pleurer. And it's not just an impression. Research shows that in Europe and in the US, sadness is less tolerated, especially in boys. It's the old, boys don't cry. As adults, we react differently to children's emotions depending on whether they come from a boy or a girl, often without even realizing it. I remember one study that really stayed with me when I was a student. Adults interpreted a baby's cries differently depending on the baby's gender, even though, at that age, babies cry in the same way. They were already... assigning masculinity or femininity, and even perceiving the baby's distress differently. For me, that was a shock. Our unconscious mind is powerful, and it acts before we know we're biased, a kind of collective reflex, shaping how we raise children, even when we don't intend to. And what about Japan? Things are a little different here, but maybe not as different as we might think. Talking about emotion does not have exactly the same meaning as in Europe or in America. Group harmony, wa, is central here. Expressing so-called negative emotions like sadness or anger can feel costly, especially in public. So there is a general pressure for both boys and girls to contain big emotions, not to take up too much space and to remain measured. Still, Japanese studies also show that parental expectations are not neutral. Boys are expected to be more independent, more assertive, and more successful. Fathers, in particular, tend to be stricter with them. Girls, on the other hand, are expected to show more communal qualities. Gentleness, harmony, warmth towards others. If we translate these expectations into emotions, The picture becomes quite clear. For boys, self-control becomes a norm, almost a moral duty. For girls, the expectation is more about knowing how to manage other people's emotions. Several Japanese studies show this. By primary school, boys already have a smaller emotional vocabulary than girls. In adolescence, they struggle more to reflect on their feelings, to turn inward. They often describe attitudes like I prefer to focus on facts rather than on my feelings. Or, analyzing my emotions doesn't really help me solve my problems. This is sometimes called an outward orientation. Turning toward action and facts rather than toward feelings. Boys also tend to express their emotion in more destructive or externalized ways. In Japanese, this is called hakaiteki hyōshutsu. It means Anger that comes out instead of being understood. For girls, it's a lot different. On average, they have a larger emotional vocabulary. They express their feelings in more constructive ways. And in adulthood, women generally express more emotions than men, partly because they've been a little more allowed to do so. We could say that boys learn to keep things to themselves, to minimize what they feel and sometimes to transform that feeling into something else, often anger. Girls also learn to contain their emotions, but they're also expected to communicate, to create connections, to comfort others. And these effects don't stop in childhood. Over time, the little don't cry moments become ways of being- internal reflexes, almost automatic. In adulthood, this can look like alexithymia, a real difficulty identifying and describing what we feel. And for many men, especially, silence can become the default setting. But study after study links these patterns to higher risk behaviors. Aggression, self-destruction, deeper social isolation. In Japan, for example, Men are more likely than women to have no regular contact with others. These patterns are also linked to higher alcohol or substance abuse. And in the most extreme cases, they can mean asking for psychological help too late, sometimes until the worst happens. In both Japan and Belgium, almost 70% of suicides are among men. Of course, these behaviors cannot be explained only by hearing or repeating stop crying. There are thousands of reasons why someone can feel lonely or depressed, whether a man or woman, in our society. But stop crying is part of it. One small thread in a much larger web. There are women who grew up in families where emotions were not expressed, who today struggle to identify what they feel, and who sometimes translate those emotions into anger. And I can totally relate. There are also men who grew up with repeated, don't cry, be strong, who are now the ones shaping the landscape of our society. We grew up seeing men around us hold back their emotions. our fathers, our teachers, our movie heroes, our favorite characters. I think of a beautiful song famous in Japan. It has a special meaning in my family, because it was already a love song that my Japanese grandfather-in-law listened to, thinking about his wife when they were separated. I used to listen to it myself during the long months of separation from the man who is now my husband. Sakamoto Kiyū sang this song It's a song about a man who looks up while crying so his tears won't fall. Sixty years later, my five-year-old son also hides his tears when he watches a sad movie. These words, this vision of the world, we have inherited them. None of us is above these automatic reactions. We simply carry them. This week, while I was writing this episode, my son dropped part of his ice cream. and cried in total despair. The first words out of my mouth? Stop crying I caught myself with a small shock. Just one hour earlier, I'd been reading a study about the lack of emotional vocabulary among boys in the first year of primary school. So, I took a deep breath, I corrected myself, and I said, You're really disappointed that your ice cream fell. I understand. It wasn't easy. The crying continued for about 10 minutes, and I also had to make something clear. Understanding his emotion didn't mean I was going to buy him another ice cream. Still, the storm ended in a long hug, and my son had space to feel his sadness and learn what disappointment is. Was my reaction the best one? Maybe not. Maybe we can simply answer a child's sadness by saying, I'm here, or say nothing, but stay close. Should we always welcome every emotion? The emotion itself, probably, yes. But not every behavior is acceptable. And it's the role of adults to help children learn how to navigate that. This episode is not meant to give one single theory or a ready-made answer. The goal is simply to enjoy rethinking where our words come from, what they carry, and where they take us. In this podcast, you'll quickly see that words are connected, like a spider's web. We've only touched on it today, but next to don't cry, there are phrases like be strong, be good, and many other small words and gestures of everyday life that together form the same spider's web of our society. But I won't say more for now. All of that will be explored in future episodes, together with many other themes. So please feel free to subscribe and share this podcast with people around you. See you next time as we continue discovering together what our words plant around us. Bye
7sec
1min
3min
5min
9min
11min
13min
Share
Embed
You may also like
Description
Why do we tell children, "Don't cry"? Through stories from Japan, Belgium, and beyond, we explore what these simple words reveal about the way we understand and respond to emotions.
Hosted on Ausha. See ausha.co/privacy-policy for more information.
Transcription
Hi, my name is Hélène, I'm Belgian, and about 10 years ago I met my husband in Japan. Since then, my life has slowly taken root between two cultures and several languages. I studied, and later worked, in a field that looks at how society shapes our habits, often without us even noticing. Today, I still find myself asking these questions. In a conversation, in a child's words, in a sentence overheard in the streets, in Japan, in Europe, a little bit everywhere. This podcast looks at how our words and everyday gestures reflect the way we see the world. I picture them as seeds, light, almost insignificant, yet always carrying something of the soil they came from. And when they spread, When there are many of them, they begin to shape a landscape. They draw a path that can guide our lives. Here, we observe without judging. We're not looking for one single truth. We're simply making space to be surprised and to think a little about the power of ordinary things. Welcome to Kotoba no Me. Don't cry. Is it a phrase you've said before? Or maybe one you heard when you were a child? Sometimes, it's a tender phrase. Don't cry, or I'll start crying too. Or, don't cry, everything is okay, I'm here for you. Then sometimes, the tone changes. Oh, just stop crying already. It can also take other forms. Oh, come on, it's not a big deal. Or it can be said without words. A hand that says stop, or just a cold look. But what's hidden underneath? What's the deeper message? Sometimes our child's sadness becomes our own, and we'll do anything to make it stop. That's totally natural. Sometimes, it's because of embarrassment. Maybe we're afraid of disturbing people passing by, or the neighbors who are trying to sleep. And that can push us to say it too. Sometimes, sadness, or big emotions in general, wakes up a kind of survival instinct in the parents. My therapist once said, I reacted as though a lion was chasing me whenever my child became completely overwhelmed. As if my whole body had been trained to tense up at the smallest sign of emotion. But whatever the exact words, and whatever the original intention, the desired effect is often the same, to stop the emotion. And children understand this very quickly. Here, my sadness is not welcome. It's better if I don't show it. On this point, the research agrees across Europe, the United States, and Japan. When children have space to express what they feel, when their emotions are welcomed instead of cut off, they learn to understand and manage them. They calm down more easily, they understand better what's happening inside them, and they find the words to say it. And later, we can see the effects. They communicate more easily, they understand others, better and they trust what they feel. When children don't have that space, when we tell them to stop crying or simply look away, they quickly learn to hide what they feel. Short term, it can look like strength, but more often it creates tension. The child stiffens. They become angry instead of crying. Over time, they lose the words. They no longer know how to name what they're going through or how to ask for help. Little by little, they may start to believe that their emotions matter less and that it's better to keep them quiet. Then, we can see two main paths. Some children keep everything inside. Anxiety, sadness, tiredness. Others let everything come out all at once. Often through anger or rough behavior. In both cases, the child learns to survive their emotions instead of learning to live with them. And we know this can make them more fragile, both with themselves and with others. This don't cry, I've also heard it hundreds of times in French. Arrête de pleurer. And it's not just an impression. Research shows that in Europe and in the US, sadness is less tolerated, especially in boys. It's the old, boys don't cry. As adults, we react differently to children's emotions depending on whether they come from a boy or a girl, often without even realizing it. I remember one study that really stayed with me when I was a student. Adults interpreted a baby's cries differently depending on the baby's gender, even though, at that age, babies cry in the same way. They were already... assigning masculinity or femininity, and even perceiving the baby's distress differently. For me, that was a shock. Our unconscious mind is powerful, and it acts before we know we're biased, a kind of collective reflex, shaping how we raise children, even when we don't intend to. And what about Japan? Things are a little different here, but maybe not as different as we might think. Talking about emotion does not have exactly the same meaning as in Europe or in America. Group harmony, wa, is central here. Expressing so-called negative emotions like sadness or anger can feel costly, especially in public. So there is a general pressure for both boys and girls to contain big emotions, not to take up too much space and to remain measured. Still, Japanese studies also show that parental expectations are not neutral. Boys are expected to be more independent, more assertive, and more successful. Fathers, in particular, tend to be stricter with them. Girls, on the other hand, are expected to show more communal qualities. Gentleness, harmony, warmth towards others. If we translate these expectations into emotions, The picture becomes quite clear. For boys, self-control becomes a norm, almost a moral duty. For girls, the expectation is more about knowing how to manage other people's emotions. Several Japanese studies show this. By primary school, boys already have a smaller emotional vocabulary than girls. In adolescence, they struggle more to reflect on their feelings, to turn inward. They often describe attitudes like I prefer to focus on facts rather than on my feelings. Or, analyzing my emotions doesn't really help me solve my problems. This is sometimes called an outward orientation. Turning toward action and facts rather than toward feelings. Boys also tend to express their emotion in more destructive or externalized ways. In Japanese, this is called hakaiteki hyōshutsu. It means Anger that comes out instead of being understood. For girls, it's a lot different. On average, they have a larger emotional vocabulary. They express their feelings in more constructive ways. And in adulthood, women generally express more emotions than men, partly because they've been a little more allowed to do so. We could say that boys learn to keep things to themselves, to minimize what they feel and sometimes to transform that feeling into something else, often anger. Girls also learn to contain their emotions, but they're also expected to communicate, to create connections, to comfort others. And these effects don't stop in childhood. Over time, the little don't cry moments become ways of being- internal reflexes, almost automatic. In adulthood, this can look like alexithymia, a real difficulty identifying and describing what we feel. And for many men, especially, silence can become the default setting. But study after study links these patterns to higher risk behaviors. Aggression, self-destruction, deeper social isolation. In Japan, for example, Men are more likely than women to have no regular contact with others. These patterns are also linked to higher alcohol or substance abuse. And in the most extreme cases, they can mean asking for psychological help too late, sometimes until the worst happens. In both Japan and Belgium, almost 70% of suicides are among men. Of course, these behaviors cannot be explained only by hearing or repeating stop crying. There are thousands of reasons why someone can feel lonely or depressed, whether a man or woman, in our society. But stop crying is part of it. One small thread in a much larger web. There are women who grew up in families where emotions were not expressed, who today struggle to identify what they feel, and who sometimes translate those emotions into anger. And I can totally relate. There are also men who grew up with repeated, don't cry, be strong, who are now the ones shaping the landscape of our society. We grew up seeing men around us hold back their emotions. our fathers, our teachers, our movie heroes, our favorite characters. I think of a beautiful song famous in Japan. It has a special meaning in my family, because it was already a love song that my Japanese grandfather-in-law listened to, thinking about his wife when they were separated. I used to listen to it myself during the long months of separation from the man who is now my husband. Sakamoto Kiyū sang this song It's a song about a man who looks up while crying so his tears won't fall. Sixty years later, my five-year-old son also hides his tears when he watches a sad movie. These words, this vision of the world, we have inherited them. None of us is above these automatic reactions. We simply carry them. This week, while I was writing this episode, my son dropped part of his ice cream. and cried in total despair. The first words out of my mouth? Stop crying I caught myself with a small shock. Just one hour earlier, I'd been reading a study about the lack of emotional vocabulary among boys in the first year of primary school. So, I took a deep breath, I corrected myself, and I said, You're really disappointed that your ice cream fell. I understand. It wasn't easy. The crying continued for about 10 minutes, and I also had to make something clear. Understanding his emotion didn't mean I was going to buy him another ice cream. Still, the storm ended in a long hug, and my son had space to feel his sadness and learn what disappointment is. Was my reaction the best one? Maybe not. Maybe we can simply answer a child's sadness by saying, I'm here, or say nothing, but stay close. Should we always welcome every emotion? The emotion itself, probably, yes. But not every behavior is acceptable. And it's the role of adults to help children learn how to navigate that. This episode is not meant to give one single theory or a ready-made answer. The goal is simply to enjoy rethinking where our words come from, what they carry, and where they take us. In this podcast, you'll quickly see that words are connected, like a spider's web. We've only touched on it today, but next to don't cry, there are phrases like be strong, be good, and many other small words and gestures of everyday life that together form the same spider's web of our society. But I won't say more for now. All of that will be explored in future episodes, together with many other themes. So please feel free to subscribe and share this podcast with people around you. See you next time as we continue discovering together what our words plant around us. Bye
7sec
1min
3min
5min
9min
11min
13min
Description
Why do we tell children, "Don't cry"? Through stories from Japan, Belgium, and beyond, we explore what these simple words reveal about the way we understand and respond to emotions.
Hosted on Ausha. See ausha.co/privacy-policy for more information.
Transcription
Hi, my name is Hélène, I'm Belgian, and about 10 years ago I met my husband in Japan. Since then, my life has slowly taken root between two cultures and several languages. I studied, and later worked, in a field that looks at how society shapes our habits, often without us even noticing. Today, I still find myself asking these questions. In a conversation, in a child's words, in a sentence overheard in the streets, in Japan, in Europe, a little bit everywhere. This podcast looks at how our words and everyday gestures reflect the way we see the world. I picture them as seeds, light, almost insignificant, yet always carrying something of the soil they came from. And when they spread, When there are many of them, they begin to shape a landscape. They draw a path that can guide our lives. Here, we observe without judging. We're not looking for one single truth. We're simply making space to be surprised and to think a little about the power of ordinary things. Welcome to Kotoba no Me. Don't cry. Is it a phrase you've said before? Or maybe one you heard when you were a child? Sometimes, it's a tender phrase. Don't cry, or I'll start crying too. Or, don't cry, everything is okay, I'm here for you. Then sometimes, the tone changes. Oh, just stop crying already. It can also take other forms. Oh, come on, it's not a big deal. Or it can be said without words. A hand that says stop, or just a cold look. But what's hidden underneath? What's the deeper message? Sometimes our child's sadness becomes our own, and we'll do anything to make it stop. That's totally natural. Sometimes, it's because of embarrassment. Maybe we're afraid of disturbing people passing by, or the neighbors who are trying to sleep. And that can push us to say it too. Sometimes, sadness, or big emotions in general, wakes up a kind of survival instinct in the parents. My therapist once said, I reacted as though a lion was chasing me whenever my child became completely overwhelmed. As if my whole body had been trained to tense up at the smallest sign of emotion. But whatever the exact words, and whatever the original intention, the desired effect is often the same, to stop the emotion. And children understand this very quickly. Here, my sadness is not welcome. It's better if I don't show it. On this point, the research agrees across Europe, the United States, and Japan. When children have space to express what they feel, when their emotions are welcomed instead of cut off, they learn to understand and manage them. They calm down more easily, they understand better what's happening inside them, and they find the words to say it. And later, we can see the effects. They communicate more easily, they understand others, better and they trust what they feel. When children don't have that space, when we tell them to stop crying or simply look away, they quickly learn to hide what they feel. Short term, it can look like strength, but more often it creates tension. The child stiffens. They become angry instead of crying. Over time, they lose the words. They no longer know how to name what they're going through or how to ask for help. Little by little, they may start to believe that their emotions matter less and that it's better to keep them quiet. Then, we can see two main paths. Some children keep everything inside. Anxiety, sadness, tiredness. Others let everything come out all at once. Often through anger or rough behavior. In both cases, the child learns to survive their emotions instead of learning to live with them. And we know this can make them more fragile, both with themselves and with others. This don't cry, I've also heard it hundreds of times in French. Arrête de pleurer. And it's not just an impression. Research shows that in Europe and in the US, sadness is less tolerated, especially in boys. It's the old, boys don't cry. As adults, we react differently to children's emotions depending on whether they come from a boy or a girl, often without even realizing it. I remember one study that really stayed with me when I was a student. Adults interpreted a baby's cries differently depending on the baby's gender, even though, at that age, babies cry in the same way. They were already... assigning masculinity or femininity, and even perceiving the baby's distress differently. For me, that was a shock. Our unconscious mind is powerful, and it acts before we know we're biased, a kind of collective reflex, shaping how we raise children, even when we don't intend to. And what about Japan? Things are a little different here, but maybe not as different as we might think. Talking about emotion does not have exactly the same meaning as in Europe or in America. Group harmony, wa, is central here. Expressing so-called negative emotions like sadness or anger can feel costly, especially in public. So there is a general pressure for both boys and girls to contain big emotions, not to take up too much space and to remain measured. Still, Japanese studies also show that parental expectations are not neutral. Boys are expected to be more independent, more assertive, and more successful. Fathers, in particular, tend to be stricter with them. Girls, on the other hand, are expected to show more communal qualities. Gentleness, harmony, warmth towards others. If we translate these expectations into emotions, The picture becomes quite clear. For boys, self-control becomes a norm, almost a moral duty. For girls, the expectation is more about knowing how to manage other people's emotions. Several Japanese studies show this. By primary school, boys already have a smaller emotional vocabulary than girls. In adolescence, they struggle more to reflect on their feelings, to turn inward. They often describe attitudes like I prefer to focus on facts rather than on my feelings. Or, analyzing my emotions doesn't really help me solve my problems. This is sometimes called an outward orientation. Turning toward action and facts rather than toward feelings. Boys also tend to express their emotion in more destructive or externalized ways. In Japanese, this is called hakaiteki hyōshutsu. It means Anger that comes out instead of being understood. For girls, it's a lot different. On average, they have a larger emotional vocabulary. They express their feelings in more constructive ways. And in adulthood, women generally express more emotions than men, partly because they've been a little more allowed to do so. We could say that boys learn to keep things to themselves, to minimize what they feel and sometimes to transform that feeling into something else, often anger. Girls also learn to contain their emotions, but they're also expected to communicate, to create connections, to comfort others. And these effects don't stop in childhood. Over time, the little don't cry moments become ways of being- internal reflexes, almost automatic. In adulthood, this can look like alexithymia, a real difficulty identifying and describing what we feel. And for many men, especially, silence can become the default setting. But study after study links these patterns to higher risk behaviors. Aggression, self-destruction, deeper social isolation. In Japan, for example, Men are more likely than women to have no regular contact with others. These patterns are also linked to higher alcohol or substance abuse. And in the most extreme cases, they can mean asking for psychological help too late, sometimes until the worst happens. In both Japan and Belgium, almost 70% of suicides are among men. Of course, these behaviors cannot be explained only by hearing or repeating stop crying. There are thousands of reasons why someone can feel lonely or depressed, whether a man or woman, in our society. But stop crying is part of it. One small thread in a much larger web. There are women who grew up in families where emotions were not expressed, who today struggle to identify what they feel, and who sometimes translate those emotions into anger. And I can totally relate. There are also men who grew up with repeated, don't cry, be strong, who are now the ones shaping the landscape of our society. We grew up seeing men around us hold back their emotions. our fathers, our teachers, our movie heroes, our favorite characters. I think of a beautiful song famous in Japan. It has a special meaning in my family, because it was already a love song that my Japanese grandfather-in-law listened to, thinking about his wife when they were separated. I used to listen to it myself during the long months of separation from the man who is now my husband. Sakamoto Kiyū sang this song It's a song about a man who looks up while crying so his tears won't fall. Sixty years later, my five-year-old son also hides his tears when he watches a sad movie. These words, this vision of the world, we have inherited them. None of us is above these automatic reactions. We simply carry them. This week, while I was writing this episode, my son dropped part of his ice cream. and cried in total despair. The first words out of my mouth? Stop crying I caught myself with a small shock. Just one hour earlier, I'd been reading a study about the lack of emotional vocabulary among boys in the first year of primary school. So, I took a deep breath, I corrected myself, and I said, You're really disappointed that your ice cream fell. I understand. It wasn't easy. The crying continued for about 10 minutes, and I also had to make something clear. Understanding his emotion didn't mean I was going to buy him another ice cream. Still, the storm ended in a long hug, and my son had space to feel his sadness and learn what disappointment is. Was my reaction the best one? Maybe not. Maybe we can simply answer a child's sadness by saying, I'm here, or say nothing, but stay close. Should we always welcome every emotion? The emotion itself, probably, yes. But not every behavior is acceptable. And it's the role of adults to help children learn how to navigate that. This episode is not meant to give one single theory or a ready-made answer. The goal is simply to enjoy rethinking where our words come from, what they carry, and where they take us. In this podcast, you'll quickly see that words are connected, like a spider's web. We've only touched on it today, but next to don't cry, there are phrases like be strong, be good, and many other small words and gestures of everyday life that together form the same spider's web of our society. But I won't say more for now. All of that will be explored in future episodes, together with many other themes. So please feel free to subscribe and share this podcast with people around you. See you next time as we continue discovering together what our words plant around us. Bye
7sec
1min
3min
5min
9min
11min
13min
Share
Embed
You may also like
