When it comes to kids and hugs, I fall strongly, strongly on the side of “only if they want to.” I’m a hugger under many circumstances, and the U.S. Deep South certainly encourages it. That said, I’m not an indiscriminate hugger, and even as an adult woman I resent being expected to submit to hugs when I don’t want to as a condition of friendliness, or because the hugger is old/”harmless”/etc.
I remember when a friend’s daughter got her first lesson about inappropriate touching at school. (This was an actual, sit-down-with-the-preschoolers talk, not a traumatizing object lesson, thank God.) Her mother told me the girl had been instructing pretty much everyone she’d seen for the past several days, “You can’t touch my body.” And, in fact, the next time she came into the room, she told me matter-of-factly that I can’t touch her body, which I’m perfectly fine with. And I loved it. Not just because it was adorable to see a four-year-old delivering that kind of solemn instruction, but that a) she’d gotten that information at all, and b) she had no compunctions about asserting her bodily autonomy with anyone, regardless of circumstances.
My great-grandmother (God rest her) detested being hugged. She was tiny and physically kind of fragile, plus she was in her eighties at that point and reasonably didn’t feel that she should really be required to do much of anything. Newcomers were instructed that instead of hugging, they would bow, “like businessmen in Japan.” Occasionally, her cane was brandished to reinforce the message. And everyone would have a chuckle about the eccentric old lady but honor her request.
So it would appear that you have to make it into your eighties before people start really respecting your authority over your own body (if even then). That’s a lot of time to be expected to put up with unwelcome touching.
The really frustrating thing to me is parents who won’t even let you respect their kids’ bodily integrity. The ones who respond to “It’s really okay, she doesn’t have to hug me” with “No, she has to learn to be polite.” No, seriously, I want no part in teaching your kid that she has to submit to being touched whether she wants to or not, and that allowing someone to put their hands on you is an issue of politeness. And at Everyday Feminism, James St. James outlines seven specific reasons why Your Child Should Never Be Forced to Hug Anyone. (Trigger warning at the link for sexual violence against children.)
1. It Teaches Your Child That They Don’t Have Control Over Their Own Bodies
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2. It Implies That You (Or Adults in General) Have the Right to Touch Your Child How They Want, When They Want
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3. It Tells Them That Relatives Can’t Be Abusers
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4. It Disregards Your Child’s Comfort Zone
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5. It Risks Dismantling Their Natural, Healthy Sense of Stranger Danger
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6. It Ignores Any Important, Subtle Cues Your Child Is Trying to Tell You
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7. It Sends the Message That Hugging (Or Physical Contact in General) Is the Only Way to Show Affection or Appreciation for Another Person
In short, forcing a kid to hug or kiss someone they don’t want to hug or kiss isn’t just annoying and disrespectful to them — it’s dangerous, teaching them that they don’t have control over their own bodies and that being touched against their will is something they’re expected to just accept if it’s a family member or friend. It teaches them to turn off the part of their brain that says, “This doesn’t feel right,” in favor of the part that says, “Adults I trust say I’m supposed to let this happen, because it’s okay.”
A blog post by Katie Hetter (lengthy, reasoned, and research-heavy) offers similar reasoning — that teaching that touching is a required element of politeness, and that it’s the only acceptable way of showing affection, and that reluctance to touch someone is a sign of rudeness and not a host of other concerns, endangers their ability to exert agency when the situation isn’t as simple as greeting Grandma. And she points out that there are plenty of ways for a kid to politely acknowledge a person’s arrival or departure and demonstrate respect with a handshake or even no physical contact at all.
My friend’s daughter was, particularly when she was little, extremely shy and physically withdrawn around new people, and the first time she ran up to me and gave me a hug was kind of momentous — because she was doing it voluntarily and exuberantly, and because she’d become comfortable enough around me that she wanted to do it. But even if she’d never done it, I wouldn’t have taken it personally, because sometimes a person just doesn’t want to hug you. If her mother (who was very attentive and aware of her daughter’s emotional state) wasn’t concerned, I wasn’t concerned. It was exciting enough to get the occasional high-five from her. Maybe we would have even worked our way up to bowing.