How Do You Raise a Child Who Feels Confident in Who They Are?

There are so many things I want for my children.

I want them to be kind. I want them to be curious. I want them to know how to work hard and how to ask for help.

But more than anything, I want them to know who they are.

I want them to know that their voice matters. That their needs matter. That they belong in every room they enter. And that they never have to become someone else to deserve to be heard.

So how do we raise children who feel confident in who they are?

I don’t think it happens by simply telling them they’re confident.

I think it happens by giving them opportunities to experience themselves as capable.

Confidence Is Built Through Experience

We can tell a child, “You can do it!” a hundred times.

But there is something different about a child experiencing the moment when they actually do it.

When they make the choice.

When they solve the problem.

When they speak up.

When they try something hard and discover that they can handle it.

When they make a mistake and realize that making a mistake doesn’t mean they have failed as a person.

Those experiences slowly become a child’s internal voice.

I can do hard things.

I can figure things out.

I can ask for help.

I can speak up.

My ideas matter.

That is where confidence begins.

And as parents, one of the hardest parts can be resisting the urge to do everything for them.

Because sometimes we know what they need.

Sometimes we know the answer.

Sometimes it would genuinely be faster and easier if we just stepped in.

But if we always do the speaking, choosing, solving, and advocating for them, we can unintentionally take away opportunities for them to discover what they are capable of doing themselves.

This doesn’t mean we stop supporting our children.

It means we start asking ourselves:

“How can I support my child without taking over?”

From Advocacy to Self-Advocacy

This has been especially meaningful for me as a parent.

My son Jacob is 17 now. Last spring, he had the incredible opportunity to travel to Albany with his school to advocate for deaf education at the New York State Capitol.

And I can still picture him standing in that room.

There were government officials around him. The New York State seal was behind him. And Jacob had this massive smile on his face.

His shoulders were relaxed.

He looked comfortable.

He looked confident.

And as I watched him, I thought about the little boy he used to be. The little boy who sometimes struggled to make himself understood.

I thought about all the years in between.

The meetings.

The questions.

The advocating.

The teaching.

The moments when I had to figure out how to make sure his needs were understood.

And suddenly, there he was.

A young man who could communicate clearly and advocate not only for himself, but for hundreds of other deaf students across New York.

I felt a swell of pride that almost brought me to tears.

Because I realized that this was part of what all those years had been preparing him for.

Not to need me to advocate for him forever.

But to understand that he can advocate for himself.

The Goal Isn't to Speak for Them Forever

As parents, we spend so much time advocating for our children.

We advocate at school.

We advocate in medical settings.

We advocate for accommodations.

We explain their needs.

We ask the questions they may not yet know how to ask.

And sometimes, we have to speak for them. Especially when they are young or when their communication, age, disability, or circumstances make it difficult for them to advocate independently.

That advocacy matters.

But eventually, we also want to start bringing our children into the process.

We can say:

“What do you think?”

“What would you like me to tell them?”

“Do you want to answer, or would you like me to help?”

“What do you need?”

“What would make this easier for you?”

Even when they are little, we can give them opportunities to communicate preferences and make decisions.

As they grow, those opportunities can grow with them.

Maybe they order their own food at a restaurant.

Maybe they tell their teacher what they need.

Maybe they ask a question at an appointment.

Maybe they explain why an accommodation helps them.

Maybe they participate in their IEP meeting.

Maybe they eventually stand in the New York State Capitol and advocate for an entire community.

The progression will look different for every child.

But the underlying message is the same:

Your voice matters.

We Have to Let Them Take the Lead

There is a bittersweet part of parenting that I think we don't talk about enough.

At some point, the things we have spent years teaching our children become things they do without us.

That is exactly what we want.

But it can also feel strange.

For so long, I had been the person advocating for Jacob.

And then I watched him step into that role himself.

He wasn’t waiting for me to tell him what to say.

He wasn’t looking to me to make the decision.

He understood why he was there.

He understood that his experience mattered.

And he understood that his voice could make a difference.

He was beginning to carry the torch.

Not because I told him to.

Because he had begun to see the power of his own expression and wanted to use it.

That, to me, is confidence.

Not the absence of nervousness.

Not believing you are better than everyone else.

Not never needing help.

Confidence is knowing:

I know who I am.

I know what I need.

I have something valuable to contribute.

I deserve to be heard.

The Advocacy We Do Today Shapes Their Future

I often think back to that first IEP meeting, when I felt completely powerless.

At the time, I was focused on getting through that meeting.

I wanted to understand the terminology.

I wanted to know what questions to ask.

I wanted to make sure my child was getting what he needed.

I didn't realize that I was also beginning to teach Jacob something.

He was watching.

He was learning what advocacy looked like.

He was learning that his needs were worth speaking up about.

He was learning that adults should listen to him.

And eventually, he was learning that he could be part of that conversation.

That's why I want parents to think about advocacy as more than just getting through the next meeting.

Yes, the meeting matters.

Yes, the services matter.

Yes, the accommodations matter.

But there is something bigger happening, too.

Your child is watching you advocate.

They are learning how you communicate.

They are learning how you handle disagreement.

They are learning that it is okay to ask questions.

They are learning that it is okay to say, “This isn't working for me.”

And eventually, they may take all of those lessons and use them themselves.

Give Them the Microphone

Raising a confident child doesn't mean raising a child who never needs help.

It doesn't mean expecting them to advocate for themselves before they are ready.

And it certainly doesn't mean stepping back when they genuinely need us to step in.

It means slowly shifting our role as they grow.

Sometimes we speak for them.

Then we speak with them.

Then we help them find the words.

Then we stand beside them.

And eventually, when they are ready, we hand them the microphone.

That is what I saw when I watched Jacob in Albany.

I saw a young man who knew who he was.

I saw someone who understood his value.

And I saw the beginning of a new chapter, one where he wasn't simply being advocated for.

He was becoming an advocate.

And I think that's the beautiful thing about this parenting journey.

The advocacy we do today isn't just about changing meetings.

It's about shaping futures.

Our children are watching.

They're listening.

They're learning.

And someday, they're going to take the power we've helped them discover and run with it themselves.

And when they do, we may realize that the goal was never to make sure they always needed us.

The goal was to help them know that they have a voice, they belong in the room, and they have every right to use it.