Unloving Mothers and the Power of Exclusion

Source: Photograph by Shivko Minkov. Copyright free. Unsplash

We like to think that mothers and fathers love each of their children equally but the truth is that playing favorites is so common that psychologists even have a fancy name for it, Parental Differential Treatment or PDT. Some of the reasons for PDT are more benign than others; there’s what’s called “Goodness of Fit.” The “fit” is good or easier when the personalities and traits of the child and parents are more alike than not, and harder when they’re not.

The example I always give is that of a mother who needs a fair amount of time alone and who has trouble managing her emotions; her first child is like her, quiet and introspective, and mothering that child is relatively easy. But her second child is highly energetic and rambunctious; this child needs boundaries and an active style of parenting that is difficult and counterintuitive for this mother. Mind you, even though the reason for her favoritism may be clear, that doesn’t change how much damage it causes to the child, which is why a loving mother tries to nip these behaviors in the bud. The unloving mother does not.

Jenna, 53, told me this story:

“In my family, it was my sister three years younger who was the favorite. The story of why evolved over the years; first, it was because she was the baby and then, when I was 10 or so and complained about it, my mother said that she got more attention because she needed it. I was so strong and independent that I could be ignored. So, while presented as a positive—Jenna the strong one—it didn’t make me feel any better. My sister was given perqs and gifts that I didn’t all during childhood and then, when we became adults, my parents helped her in countless ways while I was left to flounder. It poisoned my relationship to her and, frankly, damaged my connection to both of my parents.”

Being the odd girl or boy out

In some families, favoritism becomes codified, with the favored child being seen as the “good” one and the unfavored child as the “bad” or “difficult” one and he or she becomes the outlier in the family. In many families, the child also becomes the scapegoat, the person who’s supposedly responsible for whatever ails the family as a unit. As Gary Gemmill has pointed out, making someone the scapegoat has the benefit of allowing the parent or parents to see the family as healthier and more functioning than it really is; the thinking goes “If it weren’t for Billy or Suzy, this family would be perfect.”

Gillian, now 40, was the scapegoat in her family of origin:

“While my older sister and brother could do no wrong, I was the one who could never do anything right. In my mother’s eyes, I was the ‘accident’ who stopped her from going back to her job, who practically bankrupted the family when they were already struggling, who made her fat. I was the dumping-ground and reason for every setback and failure in her life, the millstone around everyone’s neck, and I pretty much believed it until my high school English teacher asked me why I was under-performing in her class and I blurted out the truth. She sent me to the counselor and while life at home didn’t get any better, I ultimately realized that my mother’s vision of me was some kind of warped projection. College put distance between me and my family and I embarked on therapy which was a godsend. My relationship to my mother and family consists of texts, the occasional phone, and much distance."

The story Jenna was told—of being so independent that she didn’t need attention—tends to be more the norm than not in the interviews I’ve conducted for Daughter Detox and my forthcoming book on verbal abuse. It’s not as though these mothers come right out and say “I just don’t like you,” after all; instead, they insist that their behavior was appropriate (“You didn’t need me taking care of you by the time you were five or so”), they blame-shift (“You didn’t like being cuddled or kissed from the time you were little so I didn’t” or “I had to be hard on you because it was the only way you would listen to me”), or provide a supposed “reason” for their behavior (“You would have been too full of yourself if I hadn’t criticized you,” “You were lazy by nature so the threats got you moving”) or variations on these themes.

The sad reality is that the dynamic gives many of these unloving mothers a sense of power and control that they relish and otherwise lack in their lives; this is especially true for women who are insecure themselves, combative by nature, have a heightened need for control, or are high in narcissistic traits.

Covert forms of exclusion

Symbolic gestures are more covert and often common in families where the differential treatment is just the norm without involving scapegoating, the overt form of exclusion. Lending support to one child and denying it another, as noted in Jenna’s story, happens with frequency; it can become literal especially when it comes to gift-giving and the favored child is given sumptuous presents while the excluded child is given something reflecting his or her lesser worth. Sometimes, when this behavior extends from one generation to the next, it is the moment that the excluded adult child springs into action. That was true for James, age 50:

“My mother always played favorites, and my sister was the golden girl. She got a car when she turned 18 and I was expected to get a job and save up. Both parents said she had fewer opportunities and needed to be taken care because she was a girl and all. Well, that helpless girl became an attorney, as did I. The presents stayed the same: She got a down-payment on an apartment and I got socks. Okay, I manned up and dealt with it. But the moment of truth arrived one Christmas when my kids, ages 5 and 7, and her kids, 6 and 8, gathered around the tree. The cousins got expensive bikes and other stuff and my kids got tee shirts. That was it. I pushed back and was called ungrateful and rude. My wife gathered up the kids, took my hand, and we left. My mother thinks she’s a victim of a greedy son and this greedy son thinks he’s not going to let her make his kids feel like second-class citizens as she did me.”

Attention Essential Reads

The Necessity of Multitasking

Your Attention, Please!

The “slap from the grave”

This is a phrase I’ve coined after hearing many stories of adult children being excluded after a parent dies. Sometimes, believe it or not, the adult child—most usually the daughter—has taken care of her aging and ailing mother only to find herself written out of the will entirely. One daughter, whose father died first and specifically wrote that he wanted her to receive a portion of his estate, was excluded by her mother who left everything to her other child.

Mothers hold power over children, even though we don’t like to acknowledge it. And where there is power, there is always the possibility of abuse.

Copyright © 2021 by Peg Streep

Facebook image: JR-50/Shutterstock