Credit: Nadia Bormotova/iStock, Getty Images (2020)

R-E-S-P-E-C-T, we’ve sang about it, lamented, unravelled and discussed it ad nauseam. We dish it out liberally, and if you’re in a position of authority, deserved or not, it will be your middle name. Trisha RESPECT Okwonkwo. Expect to be revered. We expect it of others, sometimes. Err, not really. You see, in these parts of the world, it’s common to grow up without agency. What agency? And respect for personal boundaries. Bahaha. This was Greek, people, nous ne comprends pas. I remember early on in my career, working as an intern in a large organisation, and pointing out that a colleague was standing in my personal space. Suffice it to say that personal space was a tag that followed me throughout my time there. It was a given that children had no free will. Beyond parental guidance. On what to eat, what to wear…what to study. As whose child?! It was always this way or… really, there was no other way. The highway did not exist. Err, literally and figuratively. And if you thought you could find it, the door was wide open. There were replacements to fill your spot. And less bills to pay. Now this is not the west, where you could walk into a children’s department, and claim refuge. You had parents? And you had a roof over your head ? And food to fill up your belly? Child, what you were was spoilt, and ungrateful.

Physical discipline for ungrateful behaviour, ahem, was common in many households. And at school. There was nothing shocking in a father coming to school to whoop their child in front of the class for poor grades. And your class teacher was always there to egg him on. Baba so and so, you not only failed in academics, you were also noisy in class, and hanged out with the wrong crowd. Now I think all could be forgiven and blamed on immaturity and stupidity, but hanging out with the wrong crowd was unforgivable. This wrong crowd constituted of your friends of course, other noisemakers, other academically challenged kids. Associating with bad company was intolerable. Thwack! Humiliating amongst your peers, but forgotten when your cackling friend’s parent, came along next. This was all perfectly normal, growing up as a child in the 90s. And ideally, we would never interact with anyone who looked askance at this behaviour. It was generally understood that this was how life should be lived.

My father has never hit me. I don’t remember him scolding me, even once. My mother’s pinches on the other hand were legendary. And just before you start thinking that I was a model child, I assure you that I was. I kid, I wasn’t of course, like most kids are, at that age. Even so, this was worlds away from corporal punishment, a word I learnt very early on in school. This is what we used to refer to regular disciplining by our teachers. Err, you can also call it physical abuse. I thought misdemeanours were punished by pinches. No, I did not know what pinches were. I understood the variety and intensity of pinches in school. We had thigh pinches, and armpit pinches (yes), and acrobatic ear pinches. You’d be answering a Math question on the board, and thwack! a switch would land on your back. Yes, an electric wire. They burnt hot, in case you’re wondering. A pipe cane, now that was a mere slap. But the wire was to be feared. No amount of jean shorts beneath your dress could escape its wrathful descent. I have vivid memories of laying down on a hot slab to be caned for failing to attain 100% in Maths, really. Who were you leaving those 4 marks for?! Thwack! I’d be laughing in relief once my 4 strokes were over. And would wince watching my friends who would still be getting theirs 30 minutes later. The teachers would switch between each other. It was a workout. I remember this particular one who liked jumping on desks to better hit you. He’d be top of the list of the ones we’d imitate later, laughing at our reactions to the ordeal. Academics was everything. Life was hard for poor performers. Actually, life was unbearable. You either did well or dropped out. There was no in between.

So of course you grow up in this environment, and get used to taking this punishment, attendant insults and disrespect from anyone in authority – you get used to taking it in spades. And it’s a given that you’d take it from your peers too. The stronger you were, the higher up the respect ladder you were.  I grew up watching fights between my classmates. The MMA could learn a thing or two from bouts back then. I remember this one girl, Anna. A gifted boxer, she made mincemeat of the resident gangster in class. Now when I say gangster, I mean it. The student body, was uh…colourful, a polite way to put it. And this one kid, John, who walked around with a knife tucked in his sock, was that kid who could intimidate the teachers. A true gangster. Sitting right next to me, he taught me to be nimble. Want to see my classwork? By all means, go ahead. My food? Sharing is caring! Offended by that girl’s smell? Eww, me too. Boys fought with boys, and boys fought with girls. But Anna, man, I’ll never forget her. I have never seen such punches in my life, she destroyed John’s reputation in the space of a few seconds. He dropped out. Seriously.

Me? I was a coward. But you have to be, living in a world below five feet. I remember this one time, a classmate was unhappy that I had included him in the noise maker’s list and made it clear that I was “wanted.” I did not wait for him to explain what he meant by that after school. One of the few times I was grateful to live right next to the school. I did catch a stone right next to my eye, and have a permanent scar to show for it, but I escaped a beating hehe. Tempers would have cooled down by the next morning. There would be another transgression to replace mine.  I have never attacked anyone. Part of it was self preservation. I have threatened to – you learn to make elaborate threats when you can’t fight-  but really, I don’t have it in me to be physically abusive towards another human being. Now, its sister, disrespect though, I take it like a champ. It is so much a part of our culture now, that it’s laudable when someone honours you.

Now the problem about accepting this behaviour, is that inevitably, you end up disrespecting yourself. You disrespect yourself by accepting to be dismissed in a Q and A segment of a conference. And by accepting to be lied to by your government. You disrespect yourself by being self-deprecating towards yourself. You’re smart, or your work was great. And you make a joke, and lay the credit to someone else, who had nothing to do with it. You disrespect yourself by saying yes to everything, yes, I’ll do this for you. Yes, I’ll make time to help you in this, at the expense of your own goals. You disrespect yourself by laying a thousand excuses at the door of someone who disrespects you. By hastening to forgive other people before forgiving yourself. By expecting perfection in yourself, and flogging yourself for past mistakes. You disrespect yourself by providing your time and resources to people who are not deserving of it.Why? Why do we do this?

A friend recently called to talk about reaching out to an old friend and colleague for their input. And their failure to respond, days later. Flagrantly. You see, we’re used to these games where some colleagues blatantly ignore your calls for help. And you resign yourself to it, and learn to be independent and take pride in being self sufficient, well, as self-sufficient as a human being could be. It’s worse when it’s not a work obligation. We’re used to friends ignoring our calls and tweeting to their followers in the next minute. We ignore this behaviour- the famed high road- and are professional, cold, but professional and respectful when we meet them. Why do we do this?

See, when we disrespect ourselves, it leads to you, and others, believing in your deserving of that behaviour. And those illusory shortcomings. And the cycle continues. Sis, the next time someone disrespects you, you throw them away with the entire city.  Strength is not resilience in bouncing up when people throw nonsense at you. Strength is ignoring people who do not matter in your life, and moving people back off your circle when they grievously offend you. Strength is speaking out, period. It’s refusing to interact with colleagues who routinely disrespect you. And refusing to stay with friends who expect your generosity and go MIA when you need them. Strength is refusing to tolerate any man who is inconsiderate of your wishes. Because if you allow this, and ignore this, and continually spend time with people who show no respect to themselves, you cannot possibly respect yourself.

If someone lies to their close friend, they will lie to you. If they gossip about them, guess what, they will be happy to do the same to you. If someone cheats on their partner, if someone prefers to waste their time indulging in nonsense, if someone manipulates other people, if someone disrespects themselves and other people, you bet your bottom dollar they will take and take and do the very same things to you. And in a world full of takers, narcissists and traumatised people, it’s easy to accept it all , including from yourself, and maintain the status quo. But you owe it to yourself to consciously unlearn these habits, and build a better you for a better after you. I cannot stress this enough, because this has been my failing. I have forgiven friends and looked over disrespectful behaviour countless times. It’s the one area where I allow myself no pride – any barrier to my future bliss. But I have learnt that your friends are a reflection of you, if you tolerate this, then what does it say about you? And your partners are a reflection of you, if they fail to respond to you, and they fail to listen to you, if they fail to take the time to understand you, sis, throw them out with the entire city. 

Forgiveness, leave it to Mother Teresa. Okay okay, I’m joking. Forgive them of course, for you. But sis, never forget. That is how you beat the game.