When Children Cry in Public
Emotional Release, Boundaries, and a Society That Forgot How to Feel
Yesterday, I went shopping with my daughter.
We rode our bikes, made a few stops, and by the time we arrived at a café, she was hungry. On the way there, we passed an op shop. She saw something she wanted me to buy — a familiar moment for us.
This time, I said no.
And I stayed with that no.
We entered the café, and she started crying.
Not screaming. Not collapsing. Crying — expressing disappointment, frustration, sadness. I picked her up, stayed close, listened. I explained gently. Then I needed to put her down to order and pay. When we sat, she cried more intensely.
And here’s the part that matters most:
I was not activated. At all.
My nervous system was calm. I wasn’t negotiating with myself. I wasn’t dissociating. I wasn’t trying to make it stop. I knew — with clarity — that this was an emotional release, not a problem to fix.
She was safe.
She was held.
She was allowed to feel.
When Society Steps In
While we were sitting there, a woman from the table next to us stood up and sat directly in front of me. She asked if she could help.
I explained calmly that my daughter wanted a toy and that it wasn’t anything major. The woman stayed. She started speaking directly to my daughter.
I asked gently, “What’s happening?”
She told me she had just been discussing her mother’s funeral with her sister and that my daughter crying was unacceptable. That I should take her outside.
I responded with sincerity:
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”
She continued insisting.
She said she had children too.
She said this wasn’t appropriate.
Throughout all of this, my daughter was already calming down. I knew she would soon eat. I stood up briefly, then sat back down, held my daughter, and fed her.
The café became peaceful.
The woman and her group eventually left.
And here’s what surprised me most:
Afterwards, I didn’t spiral.
I didn’t replay the interaction.
I didn’t debate whether I was right or wrong.
I had made a decision — and my body agreed with it.
What This Moment Revealed
This experience wasn’t really about a crying child.
It was about how uncomfortable our society is with emotional expression, especially when it’s embodied, raw, and not hidden away.
Most of us were not raised with true boundaries.
We were raised with walls.
Walls sound like:
“Stop crying.”
“Behave.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“Take it outside.”
“Be quiet.”
Walls reject the emotion and the being.
Boundaries are different.
A boundary says:
“I don’t allow this behavior — and I still love you.”
A wall says:
“Your feelings are too much. Remove them, or remove yourself.”
When we were raised hitting emotional walls, we learned something very quickly:
Love is conditional.
So we adapted.
We learned to suppress, perform, dissociate, people-please.
We learned that emotions are dangerous — especially in public.
And now, when we see a child allowed to feel, something deep gets activated.
Emotional Release Is Not Misbehavior
Crying with connection is not dysregulation.
Crying alone is.
Children don’t cry to manipulate.
They cry to complete an emotional loop.
When an emotion is met with presence, safety, and co-regulation, it moves through the nervous system and resolves naturally.
When it’s shut down, it gets stored.
And stored emotions don’t disappear — they turn into patterns, anxiety, hypervigilance, collapse, or aggression later in life.
When we remove children for having emotions, what we’re really teaching them is:
“Your feelings cost you connection.”
That lesson doesn’t end in childhood.
Boundaries Without Emotional Exile
Saying no does not require emotional abandonment.
In that café, my boundary was clear:
I was not buying the toy.
I was not shaming my child.
I was not suppressing her emotions to make others comfortable.
I was holding both:
The boundary
The relationship
This is what children need to feel safe.
Not endless yeses.
Not permissiveness.
But regulated presence.
Why This Is So Hard for Parents
If this feels challenging, it’s not because you’re doing it wrong.
It’s because you were educated through walls, not boundaries.
Many of us were taught through rejection, punishment, withdrawal of love, or emotional silence. Of course it’s hard to offer something we never received.
That’s why the real work begins inside.
When we soften the walls we carry toward our own inner child — the parts of us that were told to stop feeling — something profound happens.
Boundaries emerge naturally.
They no longer feel harsh.
They no longer require force.
They become like the membrane of a cell — clear, alive, protective, and loving.
The World Our Children Are Growing Into
I don’t want my daughter to learn that emotions are only acceptable in private.
I don’t want her to believe that her nervous system must adapt to make others comfortable.
I don’t want her to confuse love with compliance.
I’m not raising her to be convenient.
I’m raising her to be whole.
And I believe that every parent who is willing to stay present with a child’s emotions — even when society pushes back — is quietly reshaping the future.
One regulated moment at a time.