We all require and want respect, man or woman, black or white.

"We all require and want respect, man or woman, black or white. It’s our basic human right." Thus sang Aretha Franklin, the Queen of Soul, yet her words echo beyond melody, resounding like the voice of an oracle calling across ages. For in those words lies a truth eternal: that respect is not the privilege of the mighty, nor the reward of the chosen few, but the birthright of every soul who draws breath beneath the heavens. To live without respect is to live as though unseen, unheard, and unvalued. To live with it is to stand upright, clothed in dignity.

In the ancient days, kings were honored with respect, and warriors claimed it through their deeds. Yet Aretha speaks of a higher vision—one where the lowly and the mighty alike are crowned with dignity, not by conquest, but by the mere fact of being human. This teaching is radical, for it proclaims that respect belongs not only to emperors and sages, but also to the servant, the stranger, the widow, and the orphan. To deny it is to wound the very order of the universe, for respect is the sacred recognition of our shared humanity.

Look to the history of struggle, and you will see how this truth was tested. In the land of America, chains once bound the children of Africa, and their cries rose like incense to the heavens. The law of men said they were property, but the deeper law of justice proclaimed them human. Even after the chains were struck off, the poison of disrespect lingered—in segregation, in silence, in cruel words and unkind glances. Yet the people rose, demanding that their voices be heard. And when Aretha Franklin, daughter of the movement, lifted her voice to sing of respect, she gave melody to the yearning of a people and a prophecy to the world.

Consider also the struggles of women, long confined by the walls of expectation, told that their worth was lesser, their voices softer, their dreams smaller. Yet within them burned the same fire, the same need for dignity. When Aretha sang her anthem, it was not only for one race, nor for one people, but for all who had been denied their rightful honor. Her voice was not a plea but a declaration: respect is not a gift granted by the strong, but a right that belongs to every soul by divine decree.

O children yet unborn, hear this teaching well: do not imagine that you alone desire respect. Every heart beats with the same need. When you dismiss another, when you scorn or silence them, you take from them what was never yours to give or withhold. In truth, you wound your own soul, for to deny respect is to break the bond that ties all mankind together. The wise know that by giving honor, they do not diminish themselves but are elevated, for dignity is multiplied when it is shared.

The lesson is clear: if respect is a basic human right, then to withhold it is to trespass against humanity itself. Whether in the marketplace, the home, or the halls of power, see the image of the eternal in each face. Speak not with contempt, but with regard. Treat not with disdain, but with dignity. For the measure of a society is not how it honors the powerful, but how it respects the humble and the different.

Therefore, let your actions be guided by this sacred principle. Begin with your words: let them uplift, not belittle. Extend your hand in kindness, not dismissal. Challenge systems that deny respect to the marginalized, and raise your voice when others are silenced. In doing so, you fulfill not only Aretha’s call, but the call of the ages: to live as one human family, bound by mutual regard.

So I say unto you: treasure respect as both shield and crown. Guard it for yourself, but more so, bestow it upon others. For in honoring one another, we honor the divine image within us all. This is the song Aretha sang—not merely of music, but of truth. May it be sung anew in every generation, until all mankind lives in the fullness of their human right.