“Putting your hand over your heart makes you both appear and behave more honestly,” reads a headline from a March 2014 post on Smithsonian.com.

That gives credence to the warmth and generosity we felt when receiving the passing greeting, “Respect,” from staff and locals while in Jamaica. Crossing the courtyard of the resort, when encountering a staff member, they would put their right fist across their chest, bow their head slightly, and quietly say, “Respect.” A simple nod and reciprocated fist across the chest was appropriate acknowledgement.

Initially we thought this might just be something the local people did for visitors and tourists, but we then observed it happening when they greeted each other as well. It was not just an action or a tradition, but a representation of an attitude they exude. Deference and respect are hallmarks of Jamaican culture. They value relationships over rules. Jamaicans tend to be direct communicators, though always polite, even when showing disagreement. They accordingly appreciate direct communication from others, but always with an approach of tact and sensitivity.

The word respect comes from Latin, meaning to look back at, or regard. Interestingly, per Google’s dictionary listing, usage of the word respect has been declining since the 1800s.

To me, the idea of respect is looking at something or someone with open eyes and acknowledging their value. Respect is the reverse side of the coin of humility, polished up and shiny. Humility, a right understanding of who you are and who you are not, goes hand in hand with respect for others, looking back at where they have come from and appreciating their worth.

Humility reminds me that I exist and am a human being without having chosen either of those qualities. I am not in charge of anyone or anything beyond myself, however I do impact the world and the people around me. Humility prompts me to acknowledge that I don’t know exactly who God is and how our universe works, and that I certainly am not equal to God if he is considered to be the driving force behind the cosmos. Humility is inward focused.

Turn that same gaze outward and I think it manifests as respect. One simultaneously realizes their own value and power side-by-side with their smallness and impotence. When turned outward, it prompts consideration of all that is behind another’s persona and presence. It elicits the question, “Is there more to this person than what I can see? What stories lie behind their facade?”

Surface respect may smooth societal interactions, but true respect goes deep. True respect is not respect for a position of authority or the person in the position just because they hold it. It is respect for the person underneath and their inherent value.

I desire to show respect for my twins. I know their stories…from my perspective. So the question is still valid: “Is there more to these children than what I can see? What stories lie beyond my vantage point?”

If respect and humility go hand in hand, then respect and deference fit together hand in glove. To show my respect, I must show deference. I must defer.

It does not implicitly mean showing agreement with a decision, though that could also be true. Even without agreement on the decision, though, deference means agreement to allow and follow someone else’s decision.

My twins’ stories have diverged from my story since they left home. Truth be told, their stories diverged from mine from the day they were born. Every moment of every day since then, our stories have been separating. First incrementally, then exponentially. There is most certainly more to them than what I can see.

Humbly knowing that my own path has been fraught with challenges and complications, both overt and concealed, I concede that my children’s paths likely have more obstacles and struggles to overcome than I’m aware. That awareness grows empathy and compassion in me, more now than ever, as I’ve been unearthing my own foundational faulty beliefs and habits in my search to understand my twins’ transgender identification. If I have so much personal baggage of which I was unaware, it’s pretty likely they’ve got a bellman’s cart full of bags to unpack themselves.

Important to my own process of growth and healing is having people in my life who treat me with respect, who support me no matter what. It’s not enough to give me room for a time, assuming that they know the outcome of my undertaking and just need to be patient because I’m going through a phase. It’s giving me room indefinitely, realizing I might not remain the same person, but committing to me anyway.

If I need that kind of support, I’m pretty sure my children need it, too. They probably need it even more than I do because they haven’t had as many years to build outside support networks. I want to be central on their lists. Without respect, without deference, I don’t think I can even remain on the list.

I do not defer out of obligation. I defer out of love. I defer out of respect, valuing the intrinsic worth and unique stories of each of my children.

Right fist across my heart. Head bowed slightly. I quietly say, “Respect.”