The Queen Mothers Do Not Speak – They Echo in Your Bones
The Queen Mothers Do Not Speak
Little eyes are not just watching. They are becoming.
In every Akan palace, every Ga mantse’s courtyard, every Ashanti village under the old baobab, there sits a Queen Mother.
She does not need a loudspeaker. She does not post on Instagram. She does not raise her voice.
Yet every child born within a hundred miles will grow up speaking with her accent of wisdom, walking with her posture of dignity, and loving with her measure of fire.
Because Queen Mothers do not teach with words alone.
They teach with the way they tie their headscarf when someone has died. They teach with the silence they keep when a fool is speaking. They teach with the small nod they give when a child tells the truth.
And when they finally open their mouths, the proverbs that fall out are not decoration — they are seeds that will grow inside you for seventy years.
A Queen Mother once looked at a little girl who had just lied to save face and said, calm as dawn:
“If better were within, better would come out.”
The girl is seventy now. She still flinches when she remembers those words. She has never lied again.
You can try to erase it later, but the mark will still show when the sun hits it right.
A nation of crooked women begins with one crooked Queen Mother who forgot she was being watched.
Teach strength, not weakness disguised as kindness.
One harsh word from a mother you love can tilt a child’s entire life off the road.
If you let lies live in your mouth, your children will inherit the accent.
She is not just holding the child. She is downloading an entire operating system of dignity.
Queen Mothers know something the rest of us forget:
Children are not empty vessels waiting to be filled.
They are mirrors learning how to reflect.
And the clearest mirror in the village is always the woman who sits on the low stool, back straight, eyes soft, mouth slow to open — because she knows whatever leaves her lips today will echo in someone’s bones seventy years from now.
So she chooses her silence carefully.
And when she speaks, she chooses her words like a priestess choosing beads for a coronation necklace.
