I Was Reviewing My Old WhatsApp Messages When…
I was reviewing some of my old WhatsApp messages when I came across an old message from someone pointing toward me, essentially suggesting that I was disregarding my parents.
I read it again.
And instead of becoming angry, I started thinking about something much more fundamental:
When did respecting parents become synonymous with surrendering your own judgment?
Context
I am not angry at them.
What bothers me is something considerably deeper: the selective use of religion as a veil.
When someone wants to justify a position, religion suddenly becomes the final argument.
"Parents must be respected."
"Parents have sacrificed for you."
"You cannot disregard your parents."
Fine.
I agree.
But if religion is being invoked, then the entire religious framework has to be applied—not only the portion that conveniently supports one side of the argument.
Islam unquestionably commands kindness and respect toward parents. The Qur'an explicitly instructs believers to honour their parents and speak to them respectfully. (Quran.com)
I have no disagreement with that.
My disagreement begins when someone takes that principle and quietly transforms it into something the Qur'an did not say:
Respect becomes obedience.
Obedience becomes control.
Control becomes interference.
And interference is then defended as religion.
That is where I draw my line.
The Deeper Problem
There is a fundamental difference between respecting someone's position in your life and surrendering ownership of your life to that person.
Parents can advise.
Parents can warn.
Parents can disagree.
Parents can express concern.
Parents can even tell you that they believe you are making a terrible decision.
But ultimately, an adult human being remains responsible for his own choices.
The Qur'an itself establishes individual accountability: no bearer of burdens bears the burden of another. (Quran)
That principle matters.
Because if I am ultimately accountable for my actions before Allah, then it is reasonable to expect that I must also have the intellectual responsibility to make decisions about my own life.
And this is where selective religious reasoning becomes intellectually dishonest.
If someone tells me:
"You must listen to your parents because Islam says so."
My response is simple:
Show me the complete principle—not the convenient sentence.
The Qur'an commands honour toward parents. Absolutely.
But the Qur'an also explicitly presents a situation where parents are not to be obeyed in a matter contrary to faith, while still commanding the child to treat them appropriately in worldly life. (Quran)
That distinction is critical.
Disagreement does not automatically equal disrespect.
And refusing an instruction does not automatically equal abandoning one's parents.
Those are separate questions.
Personal Observation
I have reached a point in my life where I am no longer interested in proving that I am a "good son" by allowing other people to make every important decision for me.
I acknowledge what my parents have done for me.
I acknowledge their sacrifices.
I acknowledge the support I have received.
I am not erasing any of that.
But gratitude does not create unlimited ownership.
If someone helped me stand, I can be grateful for the hand they gave me without agreeing that they should control where I walk for the rest of my life.
That is not disrespect. That is adulthood.
And when someone says that drawing a boundary means I am "disregarding my parents," I have to ask:
Are you actually defending Islam?
Or are you defending your preferred interpretation of your authority?
Because those are not necessarily the same thing.
Accountability Is Not Selective
This is where I become particularly uncomfortable with the argument.
If someone interferes in another person's life, influences their decisions, pressures them into choices, creates consequences through those choices, and then walks away saying, "I was only advising," there is a serious accountability problem.
Advice has consequences.
Pressure has consequences.
Interference has consequences.
And decisions affecting another human being's marriage, finances, career, household, relationships, or personal direction are not abstract theological exercises.
They affect real lives.
So I ask a very simple question:
Who becomes accountable when someone else's decision destroys another person's peace?
If I make my own decision and it fails, I answer for it.
That is fair.
But if someone insists on controlling the decision, then they cannot simultaneously demand credit for being "right" while refusing all responsibility for the consequences.
That is not accountability.
That is authority without liability.
And I reject that model.
Religion Is Not a Selective Defence Mechanism
This is perhaps the part that will make some people uncomfortable.
We cannot use Islam selectively.
We cannot quote the command to respect parents while ignoring the command to stand firmly for justice—even when the matter concerns our own parents and relatives. Qur'an 4:135 explicitly makes that point. (Quran)
That verse is uncomfortable precisely because it removes the convenient escape route.
If the truth is against me, I have to accept it.
If the truth is against my parents, I still have to accept it.
If the truth is against my relatives, I still have to accept it.
Family does not become a substitute for justice.
And that is a much more demanding religious standard than simply saying:
"Respect your parents."
Of course I should respect them.
But I should also be just.
I should also be accountable.
I should also think.
And I should not claim certainty about matters I do not actually know. The Qur'an warns against pursuing that of which one has no knowledge and reminds us that our faculties will be questioned. (Quran)
That applies to everyone—including parents, children, elders, and me.
Consultation Is Not Command
There is another principle that gets conveniently forgotten:
Shura — consultation.
The Qur'an praises those whose affairs are conducted through mutual consultation. (Quran.com)
Consultation means:
"I will hear you."
It does not necessarily mean:
"You will decide for me."
There is a difference.
If I ask my parents for advice, I am opening the door to their experience.
I am not automatically handing them the steering wheel.
And frankly, if someone cannot tolerate the possibility that their advice may be heard and still rejected, then perhaps they were never offering advice in the first place.
They were issuing instructions.
The Pakistani Contradiction
This is where our cultural hypocrisy becomes obvious.
We constantly speak about respecting elders.
But do we teach elders to respect younger people's autonomy?
We tell children to listen.
Do we teach parents to listen?
We tell young people to accept responsibility.
Do we allow them enough freedom to actually make responsible decisions?
We tell people that family comes first.
But what happens when "family first" becomes "family is always right"?
That is not family.
That is hierarchy.
And hierarchy becomes particularly dangerous when it disguises itself as morality.
In Pakistan, we have perfected the art of attaching respectable words to uncomfortable behaviour.
Control becomes concern.
Pressure becomes advice.
Interference becomes love.
Silence becomes respect.
Questioning becomes rebellion.
And disagreement becomes disobedience.
Then religion is brought into the discussion to give the entire structure a sacred appearance.
That is where I object.
The Human Angle
There is a psychological cost to this.
When a person is repeatedly told that protecting his own peace is selfish, establishing boundaries is disrespectful, and making independent decisions is rebellion, eventually he stops knowing where responsibility for his own life begins.
He becomes trapped between two identities:
The person everyone expects him to be.
And the person he actually is.
That internal conflict is exhausting.
You can love your parents and still disagree with them.
You can appreciate their sacrifices and still reject their decision.
You can respect their age and still question their judgment.
You can remain their son without becoming their subordinate in every aspect of adult life.
These things are not contradictory.
They are part of being an adult.
Why This Matters
The real danger is not one argument between one child and one parent.
The danger is the precedent.
If every generation teaches the next generation that respect means obedience, the next generation eventually repeats the same behaviour.
The child becomes the parent.
The parent becomes the authority.
The authority becomes unquestionable.
And the cycle continues.
That is how cultural dysfunction survives for decades.
Not because everyone agrees with it.
Because everyone is afraid to question it.
And eventually, the most dangerous sentence in a family becomes:
"This is how things have always been done."
That sentence has justified an enormous amount of unnecessary suffering.
My Position
I am not claiming that parents are irrelevant.
I am not claiming that children owe their parents nothing.
I am not claiming that every boundary is automatically justified.
And I am certainly not claiming that my decisions are always correct.
I can be wrong.
My parents can be wrong.
You can be wrong.
That is exactly why consultation, evidence, justice, and accountability matter.
But if I am wrong, let me own my mistake.
If I make the decision, I will carry the consequence.
If you advise me, I will listen.
If your argument is stronger, convince me.
If your concern is genuine, explain it.
But do not turn religion into a weapon simply because you cannot accept my decision.
And do not confuse my refusal to surrender my life with my refusal to respect you.
I can respect you and still say no.
That is not rebellion.
That is not hatred.
That is not disregarding my parents.
That is a boundary.
And if the boundary itself is the problem, then perhaps the real question is not whether I respect my parents.
Perhaps the real question is:
Why does my independence make you uncomfortable?
Final Reflection
I have no intention of insulting the people who raised me.
I am simply refusing to romanticize authority.
Parents deserve respect.
Children deserve dignity.
Elders deserve courtesy.
Adults deserve autonomy.
And everyone—regardless of age, relationship, status, or family position—is accountable for their own conduct.
Islam does not require me to abandon justice in order to demonstrate loyalty to my family. In fact, the Qur'an explicitly commands justice even when it stands against one's own parents and relatives. (Quran)
So if someone wants to use religion to challenge my position, I welcome the discussion.
But let's discuss all of it.
Not just the verses that support one side.
Not just the cultural interpretation that protects authority.
Not just the argument that sounds respectable in a family gathering.
Bring the complete principle.
Because selective religion is not religious integrity.
It is simply selective justification wearing religious clothing.
I am responsible for my life.
I will answer for my choices.
I will respect my parents.
But I will not surrender my accountability—and therefore my agency—to anyone.
And perhaps that is the line people find hardest to accept:
Respect does not require surrender.
0 Comments