Aretha Franklin gave us one of the most iconic hits of all time. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s had a solo concert moment or been on a dance floor shouting out, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me!” It brings up joyful memories for many of us—but lately, I’ve been thinking more deeply about what *respect* actually means in our daily lives, especially in the world we live in now.
One definition I like says: *Respect is the understanding that everyone has value.* Simple, right? But somehow, we’ve complicated it.
Think about this: when we meet someone new, what’s one of the first things we ask?
“So, what do you do?”
It’s often innocent, but beneath it can lie a deeper assumption—that a person’s value is tied to their job, title, or perceived “status.” If what they do doesn’t impress us, we might—consciously or not—treat them differently. Why? Because we’ve attached respect to roles, not to people.
When “Respect” Means Silence
I had a recent conversation with a close friend that really stayed with me. We were catching up when the topic of dating came up. I mentioned a guy I’d been seeing and how it didn’t work out. Our values didn’t align. When I held him accountable—gently pointing out when his actions didn’t match his words—he became defensive and accused me of being disrespectful.
That’s when my friend said something that stopped me in my tracks: “Men need their respect and must not be questioned. If you can give him that respect, there will be no issues.”
Wait, what?
I was shocked—not just by the statement, but because I didn’t expect it from her. In that moment, I realised we were speaking two different languages. To her, respect meant silence, obedience, and never challenging a man—even when he was clearly out of line. And to me, that wasn’t respect. That was suppression.
But I also understood where she was coming from. This idea isn’t new—it’s deeply embedded in many cultures, including ours.
The Red Pill, Tradition, and the Fear Behind “Respect”
If you’ve ever scrolled through “red pill” spaces online or traditionalist corners of social media, you’ve probably seen the narrative: “Men are owed respect because they are men.” Period.
But let’s unpack that.
Many of these conversations confuse *respect* with *fear*, *control*, or *power*. What’s often being demanded isn’t mutual recognition of value—it’s silence, compliance, and the ability to act without being questioned.
This form of “respect” becomes a weapon. And unfortunately, it’s one many have accepted, especially in patriarchal societies.
The African Context: Age, Gender, and Power
Growing up in Africa, I saw how “respect” was used to draw lines, not build bridges. You respect elders, yes—but often, that respect isn’t mutual. Older people, by default, are always right. Questioning them is seen as rude, even when they’re clearly wrong. Apologies from adults to children? Almost unheard of.
This has real consequences.
Africa is home to the youngest population in the world, yet we rarely see young people in leadership roles. Why? Because speaking up or offering fresh ideas is often seen as “disrespectful” to those in power. Instead of mentorship, many young people get silenced. This isn’t respect—it’s suppression dressed up as culture.
And we see the same dynamic in marriages and religious institutions. In too many settings, a woman’s worth is judged by her relationship to a man. I once heard someone on a TikTok Live say: “A married woman who has achieved nothing is more respected than a single woman who’s accomplished a lot.”
Wild, right? But many women on that Live nodded, because we knew what she meant. We’ve seen it.
In these systems, if your value depends on someone else—be it a husband, a title, or an age bracket—what happens when that “someone else” withdraws their approval? You’re left vulnerable.
But everyone, regardless of gender, age, or status, has intrinsic value. And that’s the foundation of true respect.
Let’s Talk Opposing Views
Some might say: “Respect is earned, not given.” I get that. And yes, trust and admiration must be earned. But basic respect? Recognition of someone’s humanity? That should be non-negotiable.
Another view might be: “Hierarchy maintains order.” And sure, some level of structure can help groups function. But when hierarchy is used to silence or devalue others, it becomes toxic. Why must order require disrespect?
Others might argue that challenging someone—especially in romantic or professional settings—can come off as confrontational or emasculating. To that, I ask: since when did accountability become disrespect?
Imagine If…
Imagine homes where children’s voices are heard, not silenced.
Workplaces where everyone’s ideas matter—not just those at the top.
Relationships where love doesn’t mean one party must shrink to make the other feel big.
Churches, mosques, communities where respect flows both ways—up, down, across.
Respect doesn’t have to mean conformity. In fact, true respect makes room for difference.
So, the next time you meet someone and ask, “What do you do?” pause and ask yourself:
Am I trying to see them, or am I measuring their worth?
Notice how you treat the security guard, the cleaner, the cashier—people who seemingly have “nothing” to offer you. Ask yourself if you believe they still have value. Because if respect is truly about valuing people, we must start there.
And for the men, elders, and leaders reading this: your titles don’t entitle you to unquestioned respect. Your humanity does. So check that you’re not asking others to diminish themselves for your comfort. That’s not respect—that’s control.
Let’s keep building a world where value is inherent, not assigned. Where respect is given freely, and not demanded like a tax.
What does respect mean to you? Have you ever felt you had to silence your voice to be seen as respectful? Or have you felt disrespected in situations where others believed they were just “being honest”? I’d love to hear your stories and perspectives.
Drop a comment below, share this post, and let’s keep the conversation going. Change begins with shared experiences.
Koya Nkrumah 