The toddler must say no in order to find out who she is. The

Louise J. Kaplan, a psychologist who sought to reveal the inner struggles of human development, spoke with great clarity when she said: “The toddler must say no in order to find out who she is. The adolescent says no to assert who she is not.” These words are a lantern held up to the path of growth, showing us that the human spirit must often resist before it can fully claim its identity. The toddler, new to the world, experiments with refusal to test the edges of selfhood, while the adolescent, stepping into the threshold of adulthood, rejects in order to separate, to define what they will not carry into their future.

The origin of this insight flows from Kaplan’s deep study of childhood and adolescence, and her understanding of how identity is forged. She observed that the small child learns selfhood through contradiction — the word “no” becomes a weapon of independence, a way of saying, “I am not merely an extension of my parents.” Yet as the years pass and adolescence arrives, the “no” takes on a sharper edge, not of discovery but of differentiation. The youth must separate from both parent and society, testing boundaries to carve out their own path. This second “no” is less about play and more about rebellion, the necessary fire that forges individuality.

Consider the story of Galileo Galilei, who in his youth said “no” to the teachings of his time, refusing to accept without question the doctrines that placed Earth at the center of the universe. His rebellion was not mere childish contrariness; it was the stance of an adolescent spirit against authority, declaring what he was not: he was not a blind follower of tradition. In his refusal, he defined himself as a seeker of truth, even at great cost. Just so, Kaplan teaches us that saying “no” is not destruction, but the birth pang of identity.

The toddler’s no is a reaching hand: testing, pushing, learning limits. It is innocent, exploratory, and essential to forming the earliest sense of “I.” Without it, the child risks being swallowed by the will of others. The adolescent’s no, by contrast, is a shield: a declaration that “I am not simply you, nor what you expect of me.” It is painful, for it often rejects even what is good, but it is necessary. In saying no, the adolescent clears the soil, preparing to plant their own seeds.

To the parents, Kaplan’s words are a call to patience and wisdom. Do not fear the no, for it is a sign of growth. When the toddler refuses, do not see disobedience but the spark of individuality. When the adolescent resists, do not see rebellion as hatred, but as the struggle to step beyond your shadow. Guide with firm love, not harsh control, for the no is not the end of relationship but the path toward a more mature bond.

To the youth, these words offer clarity. Understand that your refusals carry meaning: they shape who you will become. Do not waste them on emptiness or destruction. Say no to what diminishes you, no to what chains you, no to what betrays your inner truth. But also know that saying no is not enough; one must eventually say yes — yes to the values, dreams, and callings that make life whole.

The lesson is eternal: identity is born through struggle, and struggle is often spoken in the language of refusal. The child’s no awakens the first sense of self, and the adolescent’s no begins the march toward independence. These stages are not curses but blessings, for they carve the soul into the form it was meant to take.

Thus, Louise J. Kaplan reminds us that every no has its place in the journey of life. Parents must not fear it, and children must not waste it. Let each no be a step of courage, a step of clarity, and a step toward becoming the self that was waiting all along to be revealed.