What do we really mean when we talk about boundaries?

Boundaries. What a confusing word and how often it is used in the context of children with little thought as to what it really means. Hence the easy narrative that children need strict boundaries in order to feel safe and to thrive, and that this includes anything from how long on the iPad to using kind words, keeping their room clean and not using hands to hit. Comments sections are full of people insisting that A, B or C wouldn’t have happened if only the child had “had firmer boundaries”. And you may well have someone in your own life who raises an eyebrow at your child’s perceived lack of boundaries.

It’s interesting though, because if I think of the word boundary for myself or any other adult, I think about self-knowledge and how we understand our own limits and capacities. Having boundaries means saying no to things we don’t have the energy for, or being able to advocate for ourselves in situations that feel potentially uncomfortable—our boundaries keep us physically and emotionally healthy and safe, and are uniquely personal to us.

But when we talk about children “needing boundaries”, we’re not talking about that at all. We’re usually talking about limits on their behaviour imposed by adults, with compliance being the desired outcome. Our role, so the narrative goes, is to enforce these “boundaries” calmly and consistently, if we want our children to understand where the edges are of the space they move within. If we can do this, they will feel safe and become good citizens who understand personal limits.

It makes sense that the logical conclusion people come to then is that if you are not setting enough firm limits (and sticking to them), your children will be lost, adrift and unruly. There will be no edges to their space, and they will never learn about their own or other people’s limits. I think this is perhaps what people imagine when they hear the term unschooling—children who seem to have a lot of freedom but must surely feel unsafe and uncontained.

What is missing in all of this is the understanding of the relational boundaries that are the cornerstone of unschooling. I was thinking of when we hold our newborn baby in those first weeks of their life. There are no behavioural limits for us to impose but we know what our baby needs to feel safe and held. The relational boundaries of a young baby’s world are delineated by our physical body, our voice, our smell and our responsiveness. We are their safe place.

What happens as they grow older? Can we broaden our understanding of what it is to hold a child and relate to them in a way that helps them feel safe whilst they are learning about themselves and others? And if so, what delineates the space when it is no longer our own physical body? Relational boundaries are the qualities of the relationship itself: a child knowing that their parent is committed to keeping them safe, that they won’t shame or judge them, that they are consistent in their compassion, their ability to hear the child’s voice, to hold them in difficult emotions, allow for disagreement, and get curious about things they don’t understand. Within this space, that is defined by relationship not compliance, the child has room to self advocate, express their opinion, dissent and always be accepted and loved. We are still their safe place.

Those soft edges can feel every bit as solid and containing to a child as any firm rule. And when we live in partnership with our child rather than wielding power over them, we will all continually bump up against the many natural boundaries of the relationships in the home. To live together in a way that feels good and fulfilling, we have no choice but to hear each other, and to keep figuring out the best way forward. We will have different levels of energy, different needs and different capacities. We will often need each other’s understanding, help and empathy and we will often have to work through disagreements. When we accept that we are all fully-fledged members of the tiny community that is the family unit, there is a continual learning of limits and a continual advocating for one’s own boundaries.

When we invest in this solid relational space, compliance-based boundaries are likely to feel at odds. The very things that the relationship is built on can easily be overlooked or trampled on in a dynamic where one person expects compliance from the other—there is no longer space for the child’s voice, self-advocacy or opinion. There is far less space for the very best of human nature—our natural empathy, ability to reflect and desire for connection. And when a parent has understood that they must always be consistent in upholding limits, does that mean we can’t back down even if our child makes a valid point? And what if the boundary is entirely unreasonable? What lessons is our child learning then? Are we still such a safe space?

None of this means, of course, that there can’t be some rules to keep people and property safe along with lots of things we need to talk to our children about. This isn’t an argument against limits or expectations. But it is an invitation to think more deeply about where a child’s sense of safety comes from. When we attend to the challenges that arise within those solid relational boundaries, there is plenty of space for conversation, exploration, disagreement and curiosity—whether it is about how they interact with others, choices that don’t seem healthy, or about staying safe when they are out and about or online. If we have muddled the concepts of boundaries and compliance, safety and control, and invested our energy instead in being always consistent and firm, we may well have forfeited their deeper trust in us, and we are less likely to be heard.

I can’t think of any explicit boundaries (limits) in our house, but there are many implicit. Most things happen just because they make sense within the community that is the family. Our children text us to let us know where they are if they are going to come home later than planned. We do our best to keep our stuff tidy in common spaces. We respect the privacy of each other’s rooms. When someone has spent a long time on a device, they generally spot that they need to move around. We say please and thank you to each other and generally treat each other as well as we can. Sometimes there is annoyance because one person feels that they are the only one doing a certain task or because they didn’t feel heard or because moods just clashed. Then we have to figure out what repair and reconnection look like.

A child who feels deeply safe in relationship is immersed in boundaries. They are learning every day that other people have needs and limits. They are learning that their own feelings matter too, and they are discovering how to negotiate, repair, compromise and care for others, whilst also not losing sight of themselves.

Perhaps the conclusion to all of this is that we adults like to oversimplify things to the point that things that sound solid really aren’t. Hence the term, “firm boundaries” as a sort of shorthand for good parenting and all that is good and bad with the world. But if we want to understand how things will work best in our own family with our children, we need to dig into the nuances.

Perhaps we need to reclaim the term “firm boundaries”. Instead of imagining them as limits that restrict, we could think of them as the soft, strong edges of the space in which we hold our children—a space that allows all of us to show up as our full selves and that feels safe enough for everyone to have and express their own boundaries.