On Respect
After years of training and a full day of testing, I had earned my black belt in jujitsu. I was tired, sore, sweaty, hungry, and probably bloody. Our club’s tradition was for every sensei to throw the new black belts using whichever technique they wanted. I loved a throw where I held my opponent horizontally at my hip level. Their head would stick out to my left while their feet were to my right. I’d spin, stop, and drop them.
One of the sensei’s knew I liked this throw. When it was his turn, he grabbed me, held me horizontally, and spun and released me while he was still turning at full speed. As I sailed on my curving arc through the air, I never felt more respected.
He didn’t hold back. He knew I could handle what he gave me, and he was treating me like an equal. This meant even more to me because I am blind. I was not the disabled guy. I was just another martial artist who would soon meet the floor with a thud.
That was 25 years ago, but I still recall the feeling. Today, I work on a college campus where respect means something different. Now, respect means showing extreme deference to another’s feelings above all else. It reminds me of when I cradled my infant son with his head nestled in the crook of my elbow, protecting his fragile neck. My other hand held his bottle. I listened attentively to make sure he did not keep sucking air after the bottle ran dry as he was want to do. I had complete deference for his feelings as demonstrated by those night-time feeds. Undoubtedly, I love him, but I am not so sure that this was respect.
Today, out of respect we are asked to coddle each other like I coddled my child. For example, we are told to learn pronouns, so we do not inadvertently describe someone by our interpretation of their appearance or biological gender. We give trigger warnings out of extreme concern for others’ feelings even though the data tell us these warnings are not helpful. We are asked to treat people like houses of cards that will fall at the slightest breeze while holding our collective breaths.
Nothing could be more disrespectful. This definition of respect smacks of condescension. It arises from the presumption that someone is incapable of handling the world on its own terms or understanding challenging ideas. It connects with the fallacy that we are responsible for how someone else feels. That belief deprives us of our agency and goes against decades of psychological research. This notion of respect prevents us from growing and learning together. As individuals and as a society, we cannot afford to pass up these chances to grow.
I’d urge us to return to true respect based on the presumption of competence and autonomy--a respect which combines due consideration with our ownership of our feelings and a willingness to hit the floor with a thud every now and then.