On an unexpectedly brisk November evening in Johannesburg, I was at a sushi dinner with my dad, his wife, Mary*, and her teenage daughter, Rebecca*. Strained, sporadic laughter between deafening silences made it clear that everyone was uncomfortable.
It was my third time peering into what still feels like my dad’s new life. When he and I reconnected after years of estrangement in 2019, we focused strictly on our relationship, so Mary and Rebecca are effectively strangers to me. Not only that, but Mary, Rebecca, and my dad are all pretty quiet, where I tend to be more boisterous. So my plan for dinner was simple: Keep it light. Give them the watered-down version of myself that they find more… palatable.
Things were going well until one cup of sake turned into three, then four, and I made a cardinal mistake: I got comfortable. I let the conversation evolve past upcoming school events and weather patterns to what was really on my mind, the weirdness of our union.
We’ve never talked about it before: my dad’s infidelity, his subsequent abandonment, me learning about his new marriage on Facebook while in the ICU (a story for another day). In most African cultures, avoidant responses to emotional conversations are the norm, and I feel the need to subscribe to that when I’m in dad and Mary’s home. But it’s difficult, and when I’m confronted with framed pictures of years I don’t recognise – Mary walking down the aisle; dad taking Rebecca to kindergarten; and one picture of me from a decade ago, the only proof of dad’s old life with me – the very feelings I feel the need to repress to make everyone else comfortable come rushing. The conversation at dinner ended with me in tears.
I choked down my discomfort to get through the rest of the trip. I talked to dad about it, and pleaded with him to tell Mary how disturbed and hurt I was by what she’d had to say about my experience and my character. He reluctantly agreed to do so once I returned to Nairobi. But after several weeks passed, and my attempts to reach Mary went unreturned, I made a decision. I told my dad I was done with our relationship.
I know, of course, that I should want him in my life – I love him and I feel guilty about our rift – but what does it mean that I’m just not sure I do?
The hardest part of all this has been the feeling of isolation. Yet a scroll through TikTok’s #No ContactFamily hashtag, which has garnered millions of views, proves I’m not alone. According to Psychology Today, at least one in four people experience estrangement from a family member, while another study found that one in 10 have cut off a parent or child. It’s becoming overwhelmingly common – but why? Why is family not working? Marriage and family therapist Shontel Cargill tells me it’s a multilayered phenomenon.
“The perceived increase in family estrangement may be influenced by several societal shifts,” Cargill explains via email. For one, there is “a growing recognition of the importance of mental health and wellbeing, leading more individuals to prioritise their emotional health and set boundaries with toxic or abusive family members.”
Such was the case for children’s therapist Gabi Hayes, who has been estranged from her biological father and paternal grandparents since 2022. “I chose to pursue no contact with my father after many desperate attempts to set boundaries that were not respected,” she tells me via email. “For many years, I attempted to maintain a relationship with him – mostly due to my being a child myself and not having the language or ability to understand what narcissistic abuse looks like.”
Though Hayes stands by her decision, it hasn’t been easy. “Brutal and gruelling” is how she describes her experience: “Most days, it feels like there is a gaping wound in my chest that will never be healed. Although I am healing and on the other side of it, I know that I will always have a wound where a healthy father-daughter relationship should be.”
Raising a child herself inspired content creator Bunny Hedaya to cut ties with her own mother in 2019. “I didn’t see her much before I became a mother, but things just got worse and worse,” she shares. “She would ask to come see my son, then never show up. Call the next day and do the same thing. It was a really sad cycle, along with her mental illness affecting her mood.”
Like Cargill, Hedaya chalks up the rise of family estrangement to reframed perspectives on (and expectations for) familial relationships. “I think our generation is more aware that they don’t need to keep their family’s secrets anymore,” she says. “They don’t need to accept abuse from family members. They don’t need to continue the vicious cycle.”
Abigail*, another person I spoke to, told me that she’s estranged from one of her children for myriad reasons: divorce, her ex-husband’s gambling addiction and habitual lying, and financial troubles. Yet she can acknowledge the toll that losing contact with her daughter has likely had on her. “I think she feels abandoned. Mental illness is an issue for her,” she says. Abigail’s experiences have moved her to pursue a career in psychotherapy “to help others in trauma.”
Anna*, on the other hand, is less clear about the reasons for her estrangement from her adult child. “I have never been given a reason. We were incredibly close. I believe the issue for us is more of an enmeshment. Where she/they felt unable to be separate from me emotionally. I also believe, though I was aware of [it] and 100 per cent accepting with zero problems, that gender-identity autonomy and discovery are at play in some regard.”
Both Cargill and Whitney Goodman, LMFT, a licensed psychotherapist and the author of Toxic Positivity: Keeping It Real in a World Obsessed With Being Happy, recommend that those in my position seek professional guidance before initiating a break with a close family member. “Take your time and remember that this does not have to be permanent unless you want or need it to be,” Goodman urges, adding that “consulting with a therapist who is well versed in family relationships and estrangement” is vital.
Hayes tells me her research on disenfranchised grief has been monumental in understanding her own estrangement and subsequent emotional hardships. “This is the grief of mourning something that is not usually socially acceptable, such as the loss of a relationship or the estrangement of a parent who is still alive,” she explains. “This grief affects us very similarly physiologically as if we were experiencing the death of a loved one. Understanding this kind of grief has really helped me mourn the loss of the life I thought I would have and to give myself the space to process and grieve.”
I’m still not sure what to do about my dad. I still feel angry and hurt over what our relationship has turned into. Yet I’ve found some solace in the idea that families are like any other institution: some thrive while others do not. A familial relationship coming undone doesn’t signal a character flaw or impending lifelong loneliness. It just means you have to work harder to find the love you want. Personally, I find that responsibility empowering. My dad may never be the father I want, but I get to choose what family is and looks like in my life. And, at least for now, that’s enough.
*Names have been changed.
