Respect Your Elders—Even When They Don’t Respect You?

Arissa Farha
Oct 18
6 min read

Between pride and patience lies something more powerful: mutual respect.

The Clash of Generations

Have you stumbled across a TikTok or Reels video while doomscrolling and seen a scene that hits closer to home than you think? A scene where a young person dares to talk back to an older figure, and then suddenly, in the comment sections, the internet was split into two.

One side screams, “Kids these days have no manners!” and the other sighs, “Elders think they are so entitled to be respected when they are at fault…”

It’s a war zone between two different generations, with each side armed with pride and their understanding of what their own version of “respect” is.

But what exactly is respect? And why is it so important, especially towards some societies or traditions? How far does respect go when it starts to feel one-sided?

Growing up, most of us are taught to always bow our heads or bodies when walking in front of our elders or speak in a softer tone and never raise our voices because it is considered rude to them. It’s as if “age” was supposed to command respect automatically.

I recalled phrases from my own older relatives, such as “I was born first; that means I eat more rice than you,” to show the hierarchy placed between the eldest and youngest. But as time goes by, the world grows louder, and future generations grow braver. This unspoken rule feels… outdated. Respect, after all, is not considered a trophy but a bridge. And a bridge can’t stand on its own without both sides building it together. Not one side, but both sides.

Maybe we all have to relearn and implement a new perspective. What if respect isn’t about surrendering your voice? It means learning to wield your voice with grace—to stand firm without losing kindness and to earn respect through understanding. It’s the moment where the courage of youth and the wisdom of age finally find common ground.

Respect Is A Two-Way Bridge

Let’s start from the beginning: respect.

It’s such a small and mundane word, but it has a meaningful impact and a very heavy cultural weight. We’re told to offer it freely, especially towards those who came before us. But somewhere along the way, that act of courtesy turns into obligations that often forget the other half: the younger ones.

But no one actually understands the truth, which is “Respect goes both ways.” Elders deserve honour; that’s a fact, but the younger generations deserve acknowledgement too. When an elder listens instead of lecturing and the younger person pauses to understand rather than react, something softer yet powerful takes hold. The tension melts, the bridge steadies, and that realisation occurs. Suddenly, the argument fades into the background, and what comes into view is something much gentler: the fragile yet beautiful bond between two generations learning to listen.

And that’s probably the problem with how we’ve been taught respect; we have mistaken fear for reverence. However, there’s a difference between fear and respect:

Fear silences; respect listens. Fear divides, while respect unites. — Arissa Farha

To truly mend the rift between generations, respect must be freed from being demanded like a debt; rather, it should be given.

Understanding Over Ego

However, building a bridge isn’t easy, is it? Because right when respect takes root in someone, that’s when another comes along: ego. It’s the unspoken “I know better than you…” that both sides have.

Sometimes, elders just want to be understood. They’ve experienced hardships throughout their whole life that we (younger generations) don’t really understand or experience in full detail. So, they carry this immense wisdom from past experiences, and though their words are harsh at times, it often comes from a place where they care. Sometimes, it’s just the way they deliver it—shaped by the rougher edges of their experiences.

And, for the younger generations, they just want to be heard. We’re not rebelling for the sake of rebellion; we’re searching for a space. A space to express freely, to ask questions, and to simply breathe without being labelled as “disrespectful”. And, when we’re always silenced, the bridge that connects us collapses under the weight of pride.

Not to mention pride ... our comfort zone, the place we retreat to when we don’t want to be wrong. But it builds walls—thick ones that keep understanding on the other side. Is it worth it to hold onto pride when others who are more precious crumble down? — Arissa Farha

Respect doesn’t mean submission, and understanding doesn’t mean weakness. It’s a bridge the young and old must both choose to cross—not to prove who’s wiser, but to remember they still have things to learn from each other.

Growth is Mutual

Let’s imagine that respect isn’t a battlefield; instead, it’s a garden. A garden that blooms when both sides decide to plant something together. Because respect at its core is not about hierarchy, wisdom or age. It’s about humanity.

When the younger ones choose patience instead of resentment, they will learn the beauty of resilience. The kind that steadies their hearts and their voices when the world feels a little cruel.

And, the older ones choose openness instead of authority; they will learn the revelation of renewal. The kind that keeps their spirits and souls feeling young long after years.

Both sides learn, both sides grow and both sides heal. We are as if two sides of the same coin, different but one.

Sometimes the teacher is the learner, and the students teach. Or sometimes both. We learn something no matter people's age, generation or wisdom. That’s life; that’s what makes us human.

So, perhaps the question is not “Should we respect elders when they don’t respect us?” but rather, “Can we learn to respect each other enough to listen?”

We don't coexist between generations; rather, we evolve together when respect is reciprocated, when it ceases to be an expectation and instead becomes an exchange.

Writer's Notes:

I grew up hearing one line on repeat — “Respect your elders.” It echoed through every family gathering, every scolding, every “don’t talk back” moment. It wasn’t just advice; it was law. In Malay culture, and especially in Islamic teachings, respecting elders isn’t just encouraged — it’s considered a moral duty. In fact, some say it’s sinful not to. So, of course, I obeyed. We all did. Because who wants to risk divine disapproval and a side-eye from their auntie or get caned by our parents at the same time? (I did it once, and it was NOT nice! #traumatised)

But as I got older, something started to itch in that rule. My friends and I realised that we were taught to respect automatically. The same courtesy didn’t always flow back our way. When elders snapped, we had to “understand”. When we spoke up, we were “rude”. It was a loop of reverence that sometimes felt… one-sided. Don’t get me wrong! I love my elders and respect them, but sometimes I feel… tired of keeping up the front and have to always calm my inner fire down from talking back.

So I wrote this piece for that quiet frustration—not out of rebellion, but reflection. Because somewhere between cultural duty and personal dignity, there’s a middle ground we keep missing. I think it’s time we remind ourselves that respect was never meant to be a monologue. It’s a dialogue—one that bridges generations instead of dividing them.

And, honestly? Maybe, just maybe, we can teach our elders a little something about listening too—with love, of course (before my mom reads this and gives me that look… hehe, love you, Ibu ❤︎).

Writer's Biography:

Hi! I’m Arissa Farha, but you can just call me Aryss because it’s easy to pronounce. I’m a first-year English with Creative Writing major—which basically means I spend half my night writing (and crying) heartfelt essays and the other half sleep-deprived from writing a story due to a 3 a.m. creativity surge.

I’ve been a K-pop fan since 2014, and yes, my entire personality can probably be traced back to aespa and NCT (let’s be moots!). When I’m not crying over Jaemin’s existence (real), I’m usually devouring romance novels—the fluffy, happy-ending kinds, not the dark, traumatic ones. I am a #DarkRomanceNo1Hater. Pink isn’t just an aesthetic; it’s a lifestyle and my whole entire personality.

I’m deeply fascinated by beauty trends, good food (especially pastries) and music—mostly K-pop, R&B and Pop (Ariana Grande and Sabrina Carpenter, girly!).