I Was a Strict Parent. Then I Moved to Canada.
My hometown of Karachi, Pakistan, is fairly conservative. When I was growing up, my parents established a lot of rules and discipline. They didn’t let me wear tight clothes because people would stare at me. I couldn’t go out alone with friends, and I was rarely allowed to visit their homes. It was a strict household, and I knew never to question what my parents told me to do.
I got married in 2002 and, soon after, my husband’s job took us to Dubai, where we had three children. There, I had to be a hands-on mom: the city isn’t designed for pedestrians, and the heat is often unbearable to walk in, so I drove my kids everywhere. Unlike in many Western countries, students aren’t allowed to get part-time jobs. They’re completely dependent on their parents. Like my mom and dad, I ran a tight ship. Television time was limited and only allowed in the living room under parental supervision. My kids had to study for at least an hour on weekend mornings, and curfew was set at 8:30 p.m. There’s a lot of social pressure in Dubai around academics and extracurriculars, so I enrolled my kids in a whirlwind of activities: basketball, swimming, music lessons and tennis, as well as extra tutoring in English and math. They would cry sometimes and ask to skip their lessons, but I would insist because we’d already paid for them. Over time, my children appeared to accept this lifestyle; they rarely fought back.
Eventually, we wanted long-term stability and better university prospects for them, so we applied for permanent residency in Canada. Our youngest daughter was born in 2016 and, three years later, I moved to Oakville, Ontario, with our four children. My husband didn’t join us—he had relocated to Saudi Arabia for a banking job. Workers there don’t have to pay personal income tax, so he stayed there to support us financially.
Managing everything on my own was hard. I had to look after our house, do school runs, get groceries. I was also working full-time, first as a special-needs teacher, then as a dental assistant. But I felt at peace in Canada. Everyone had access to high-quality public education—and the short walk to local schools cut hours of driving. For my two eldest children, who were in grades 8 and 10 at the time, the transition was smooth. But for my third child, then in Grade 3, the move was painful. She had always been close to her father and, suddenly, he was no longer a constant presence in her life.
Compared to their older siblings, my youngest two reacted differently to my parenting. When I scolded them, they said they didn’t like my tone, and they often disagreed with my decisions. For example, I’d forbidden my third child from staying late after school; I was worried about bullies. When she pushed back, I realized my overprotectiveness was only fuelling unnecessary arguments. Strict rules didn’t seem to work; I had to loosen my grip. Later, my daughter developed anxiety and asked for help with it. At first, I hesitated. I thought counselling was only for those struggling with serious mental illness. But I soon understood that many people sought help for everyday life. During that process, I was encouraged to be more lenient.
I think part of my daughter’s frustration stemmed from seeing her peers enjoy things I hadn’t allowed—like going out with friends frequently or wearing revealing clothes. So I made adjustments. Her curfew is now 10:30 p.m., in line with what’s common here. If my younger two kids feel like skipping gymnastics or volleyball, I let it slide. My older children say I’ve gone soft, but I don’t see it that way. I’ve simply come to understand that, in the grand scheme of things, these rigid rules won’t matter as much as my love and support.
In late 2023, my children and I became Canadian citizens. My husband is still in Saudi Arabia. He visits every two months, and we travel to see him a few times each year. Parenting alone is tough, especially since our children listen to him more. In his absence, I’m figuring out when to stand firm and when to let go.
—As told to Sanam Islam
