We learn about respect from a young age. “You must be respectful to everybody!” seems to be the 11th commandment which becomes like a well learned mantra from a very young age. But does it help us?
It gets drummed into us almost mindlessly by parents and teachers and friends and the television and anything else in between. With so much ear bashing going on, it’s just a matter of time before we start to really believe that being respectful will earn us praise and give us what we want from others. As children we may get presents, sweets and other childish forms of gratification and as adults, reciprocal respect, helpfulness and even love. I remember my dad saying to me “With man behave like a man but with a pig you must behave like a pig because that’s what he deserves!” This was a mild form of “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” with which I didn’t feel comfortable at that young age. I’m more comfortable with it now. Such a statement runs somehow against the accepted knowledge that respect has to be given regardless of what you get back.
What did I do all these years? Did I grow up to respect people? Do I respect anybody and everybody? The answer is ready. I have it with me and carried it with me for a while now. I used to give my respect to people and expected to receive the same back. I’ve done it so many times. It used to be my default behaviour, expression of my innocence, lack of experience and good old brainwashing from the doo-good brigade. More often than not it ended in disappointment or even worse, betrayal. I tried in vain to understand what happened, what did I do wrong, and how can I somehow justify that such an important human value seemed to elude me and trouble me relentlessly. I think that now I have the answer. Yes I was doing something wrong. I was giving my precious respect naively, for free to most people, family, friends, acquaintances, work colleagues.
The self-searching for answers became more and more feverish as my circumstances changed over the years. I had to ask a question that started nagging at me as my children were growing up. They’re good kids, and I’m proud of them. I thank them for inspiring me to resolve this dilemma which troubled me somehow for a long time. My children growing up was somehow imperceptible, like watching grass grow. Noticing their behaviour and starting to talk a lot more about attitudes and values and analysing various aspects of our combined relationships, I inevitably came to the conclusion that they profoundly respect me. There were and still are some glitches we need to go through from time to time. They turn out to be small and insignificant, born out of youthful passions and energies, but they’re enough to make me jump and question even now. Being respected by my children is important for me. I don’t think I could live otherwise.