Respect Should Never Come at the Cost of a Child's Safety

An opinion piece on generational trauma, sexual abuse, and the culture of silence in South Asian families

There is a particular kind of silence that exists in some South Asian households. It is not always spoken about, but it is understood. We are taught to respect our elders, protect our family's reputation, and avoid conversations that might bring shame or embarrassment.

As children, we rarely question these expectations. They are woven into our upbringing, passed down through generations, and often presented as expressions of love, discipline, and cultural pride.

But what happens when those same expectations prevent children from speaking up? What happens when respect becomes unquestioning obedience, and family loyalty becomes an obligation to remain silent?

I began asking myself these questions years ago, after watching Mira Nair's film Monsoon Wedding.

The film follows a Punjabi family preparing for a lavish wedding, but beneath the celebrations lies a painful secret involving childhood sexual abuse by a trusted family member.

I remember watching that storyline unfold and feeling an unsettling sense of recognition. Someone I loved had experienced sexual abuse, and until that moment, I had not fully understood the significance of what had happened.

It was one of the first times I recognized, with clarity, that what had happened was wrong. Not something to be minimized, explained away, or buried beneath the complexities of family relationships.

It was abuse.

What disturbed me was not only the recognition itself, but the realization that it had taken a film to help me see something that should never have been acceptable in the first place.

How had we learned to normalize silence around something so serious?

When Respect Becomes Obedience

Growing up in a South Asian household, respect for elders was not negotiable. We were expected to greet adults properly, listen without questioning, and demonstrate affection toward relatives and family friends.

How many of us remember being told, "Go give uncle a hug," or "Give auntie a kiss," even when we barely knew the person or felt uncomfortable?

And what happened when we refused?

We were told not to be rude. Not to embarrass our parents. Not to disrespect our elders.

Most parents who encourage these interactions are not intending to place their children in danger. They are passing along familiar customs of affection and hospitality.

But there is a distinction between teaching children kindness and teaching them that their physical boundaries are negotiable.

When we insist that children hug or kiss adults against their wishes, we send a troubling message: that politeness matters more than personal comfort, and that an adult's expectations take precedence over a child's right to say no.

Of course, a forced hug is not equivalent to sexual abuse. But teaching children that they must accept unwanted physical contact can undermine the very boundaries we should be helping them establish.

A child should never have to surrender bodily autonomy to demonstrate respect.

This is a conversation we need to have, particularly in communities where obedience to elders is deeply embedded in family life.

The Dangerous Myth That Family Means Safety

We often teach children to be cautious around strangers. Yet we rarely devote the same attention to helping them recognize inappropriate behaviour from people they know.

In many families, the word uncle or auntie is used not only for relatives but also for family friends, neighbours, and respected members of the community. These titles convey familiarity, trust, and belonging.

But familiarity is not a guarantee of safety.

Childhood sexual abuse can occur within families and trusted social circles. The person responsible may be someone who is admired, respected, or considered indispensable to the family.

This is precisely what made Monsoon Wedding so confronting. It challenged the comfortable assumption that a person's public reputation reflects their private behaviour.

The film also raised a more uncomfortable question: What happens when exposing abuse threatens the family's carefully maintained image?

In some families, the instinct is to protect the institution of the family rather than the person who has been harmed.

We hear familiar arguments.

Why bring up the past?

Why destroy the family?

What will people think?

But these questions are directed at the wrong person.

Why is the survivor expected to carry the consequences of someone else's actions? Why should speaking the truth be considered more damaging than the abuse itself?

A family's reputation should never be more valuable than a child's safety.

The Trauma We Pass Down Without Realizing It

We often associate generational trauma with war, displacement, poverty, and migration. For many South Asian families, these experiences have shaped how previous generations survived and raised their children.

But generational trauma can also emerge through patterns of silence, emotional suppression, rigid authority, and the inability to discuss painful experiences.

A child raised to believe that questioning an elder is disrespectful may become an adult who struggles to establish boundaries.

A parent who was never encouraged to express difficult emotions may find it challenging to recognize or respond to emotional distress in their own children.

And a family that has historically dealt with abuse through secrecy may continue doing so, even when the consequences are devastating.

These patterns are not inevitable, nor are they exclusive to South Asian communities. But cultural expectations can influence how trauma is understood, disclosed, and addressed.

Understanding these patterns is not about assigning collective blame. It is about recognizing that practices we consider normal can have consequences we have never seriously examined.

We cannot continue to defend every inherited behaviour simply because it is part of our upbringing.

Tradition deserves respect, but it should not be immune from scrutiny.

The Cost of Silence Does Not End With Childhood

Childhood sexual abuse can have lasting effects on a person's mental health, relationships, and sense of self.

For some survivors, the consequences include anxiety, depression, shame, difficulties with trust, and challenges establishing healthy boundaries. Some may struggle with substance use as a means of coping with unresolved pain.

Others may experience different outcomes, and many find meaningful paths toward healing.

There is no universal response to trauma.

Yet too often, we judge people's struggles in adulthood without considering the experiences that may have shaped them.

We ask why someone is struggling emotionally, why they cannot maintain relationships, or why they turn to unhealthy coping mechanisms.

We are quick to examine the behaviour but less willing to confront the pain that may lie beneath it.

And when the original trauma involves sexual abuse, the silence can become even more entrenched.

Survivors may fear being disbelieved, blamed, or accused of damaging family relationships. Some may spend years trying to make sense of experiences they were never given permission to discuss.

What concerns me is how easily families can mistake the absence of conversation for the absence of harm.

Just because something is never discussed does not mean it has been resolved.

We Can Honour Our Culture Without Defending Its Harmful Practices

I am proud of the values that come from my South Asian upbringing: our emphasis on family, our generosity, our connection to community, and our commitment to caring for one another.

But cultural pride should not prevent critical reflection.

We must be able to distinguish between traditions that strengthen families and expectations that silence vulnerable people.

Respecting elders should not mean that adults are beyond questioning.

Maintaining family relationships should not require survivors to remain silent.

And teaching children good manners should never involve dismissing their physical or emotional boundaries.

We need to reconsider how we raise children, beginning with seemingly ordinary interactions.

If a child does not want to hug a relative, let them decline.

If a child says someone makes them uncomfortable, listen.

If a child discloses inappropriate behaviour, take it seriously, reassure them that they are not to blame, and seek appropriate support.

Most importantly, stop teaching children that adults are entitled to their affection simply because of their age, relationship, or position within the family.

Respect is not the same as submission.

Breaking the Cycle Begins With Us

I still think about that first viewing of Monsoon Wedding and the realization it brought.

I think about how differently we might understand childhood experiences if we were encouraged to question authority, recognize inappropriate behaviour, and speak openly about difficult subjects.

I also wonder how many people have experienced something similar: a moment when a film, a book, or another person's story suddenly gives meaning to something they had witnessed or lived through.

Sometimes, we do not recognize the harm until we encounter a language or perspective that helps us understand it.

That is why these conversations matter.

Through Empress Abby Circle, I want to examine the issues that have too often remained unspoken in our communities, including childhood sexual abuse, generational trauma, mental health, addiction, and the pressures surrounding family reputation.

Not because South Asian families are uniquely affected by these problems, but because our communities, like every other, have a responsibility to confront them.

We cannot undo what previous generations experienced or change the circumstances in which they were raised. But we can choose which lessons we carry forward.

We can raise children who understand that their bodies belong to them.

We can teach them that love and respect do not require unquestioning obedience.

We can create families where uncomfortable truths are met with compassion rather than denial.

And we can stop treating silence as a virtue when it comes at the expense of someone's well-being.

Perhaps the greatest act of respect we can offer the generations before us is not to repeat everything they taught us, but to have the courage to change what needs changing.

Because protecting our children should always matter more than protecting our image.

And no child should have to grow into adulthood before someone helps them understand that what happened to them was wrong.

This opinion piece is part of Empress Abby Circle, a South Asian-focused initiative welcoming everyone and dedicated to mental health awareness, breaking stigma, and building community connections.

Content note: This article discusses childhood sexual abuse and trauma. Survivors deserve privacy, compassionate support, and the freedom to decide when and whether to share their experiences.