The Ripple Effect of Defiant Parents
My mother is the epitome of selflessness. She spent her days cooking, cleaning, shopping, and tending to our family’s needs. To me, as a child, she seemed like the ultimate embodiment of compliance—always putting others first, never ruffling feathers.
Then, one day, she surprised me.
She defied.
Her defiance stopped me in my tracks. I remember it vividly, as if it happened yesterday. In that moment, I saw a side of her I hadn’t known existed. It wasn’t just that she said no—it was what her no represented. It was an act of alignment, a firm declaration of her boundaries and values in a way I hadn’t seen before.
I share her story in detail in Defy: The Power of No in a World that Demands Yes. But what stayed with me, long after that day, was the ripple effect of her defiance.
Years later, when I began researching the dynamics of compliance and defiance, I realized how pivotal that moment was—not just for her, but for me. Watching her defy made me question everything I thought I knew about what it means to stand up for yourself.
Defiance isn’t about personality. It’s a skill, a deliberate and thoughtful choice. And when we make that choice, we don’t just change ourselves—we inspire those who witness it.
Since launching Defiant by Design, many readers have shared their own stories of witnessing acts of parental defiance that transformed their understanding of courage and values.
Here are three such stories (names have been changed to protect their privacy):
David’s Story: Defying the Bleachers
David grew up in a Jehovah’s Witness household, where his family often stood apart from societal norms. They didn’t celebrate holidays or birthdays, recite the pledge of allegiance, sing the national anthem, vote, or otherwise engage in politics.
“In other words, it was a nightmare for a kid who just wanted to fit in.”
But one act of defiance left an impression that has stayed with him for decades.
When David was about 12, his mother managed to get tickets to the Mayor’s Trophy Game, an exhibition game between the Yankees and the Mets. It was the 1980s, and the stadium bleachers were packed with rowdy Mets fans, many of whom were already drunk before the game began.
David wore his Yankees hat and jacket with pride, even bringing a glove to catch any home runs that came his way. But as soon as they took their seats, the jeers began. Mets fans shouted profanities, cursed the Yankees, and threatened to pour beer on his jacket. Then, the national anthem started.
The bleachers erupted as everyone stood, hands on hearts. Everyone except David and his mother. Jehovah’s Witnesses do not participate in patriotic rituals, and his mother tapped his leg to remind him to stay seated.
The reaction was swift and brutal. Fans yelled, cursed, and threw beer at them. David was terrified. But his mother sat firm, her face calm and steady. She didn’t glance around or engage with the hostility. She just sat.
“This is who we are, she seemed to say, and these people can't change that.”
The anthem lasted two minutes, but to David, it felt like hours. When it ended, the crowd eventually moved on, their anger diffused.
Somewhere in the 7th inning—the Yankees were getting creamed—David’s mother thought it was time they left. It was a school night after all. David, with his stomach in knots, still remembers the boos that serenaded them on their way out.
Reflecting on it now, David says, “I learned that there’s something energizing in moments like this. My mother found safety in her faith and her refusal to let the mob dictate her values. It was liberating—and in its own small way, it trained me for acts of defiance in my own life. Watching my mother calmly hold on to her truth showed that it's possible, even when it feels terrifying.”
Anna’s Story: A Voice on the Streets
Anna grew up in Toronto, where street harassment was unfortunately common. One day, while walking with her mother, a man began shouting obscene things at her. She was stunned into silence. But her mother was not.
Stopping in her tracks, Anna’s mother turned to the man and shouted at him in Spanish: “Monstruo!”—monster. Her voice was loud, commanding, and unrelenting. Passersby stopped to look.
Anna recalls, “I don’t know if it changed him, but it changed me. My mother taught me that you don’t let people disrespect you. You speak up. Seeing her confront him with such conviction made me realize that defiance can be as simple as saying, ‘This is not okay.’”
Laura’s Story: Civic Action for Community Change
For Laura, defiance came in the form of civic action. When she was a child, a few people in a nearby neighborhood illegally installed “no left-turn” and “no right-turn” signs to block traffic from their streets. The change disrupted her family and their neighbors, doubling commute times and threatening the livelihood of a local farm that depended on passing traffic.
Her parents didn’t accept the situation. They rallied their community, gathering hundreds of signatures to petition the town for change. Their efforts paid off: The illegal signs were removed, while legitimate stop signs were installed to ensure safety without disrupting access.
Laura reflects, “Watching my parents take civic action taught me my first major lessons in defiance and how to stand up for yourself and your community: 1) If something doesn’t seem right, assess the situation and determine how to take action. 2) Talk with other people to understand their perspectives and figure out ways to enlist their support for your cause. A community’s collective voice can create positive change that serves everyone.”
The Ripple Effect of Defiance
These stories resonate deeply because they reveal how acts of defiance—whether in a stadium, on the streets, or within a community—can be transformative. My mother’s act of resistance changed my understanding of what it means to stand up for yourself. For David, Anna, and Laura, their parents’ defiance planted seeds of courage that continue to shape their lives.
Defiance creates ripples. It doesn’t just liberate the individual; it sends out waves of possibility to everyone who witnesses it. Rosa Parks’ refusal to give up her seat on the bus is remembered as the spark of the civil rights movement, but it was also the product of a lineage of resistance. As a child, Rosa saw her own mother stand her ground, refusing to move on the bus for a white passenger.
Each act of defiance lays a foundation for the next, amplifying its impact in ways we can’t always predict. What acts of defiance have shaped you? Maybe it was a parent’s refusal to accept injustice, a teacher who challenged the status quo, or a friend who chose to speak up.
In this new year, I invite you to reflect on your relationship with defiance. What small, deliberate acts of resistance could you take to align with your values? And who might you inspire by doing so?
Together, we can build a world where integrity becomes contagious—and where even the smallest acts of defiance ripple outward, creating a legacy of courage and change.
With defiant determination,
Sunita