“I freed a thousand slaves; I could have freed a thousand more if only they knew they were slaves.”
— (attributed to) Harriet Tubman
Most of us have felt that chilly knot in the stomach when trying, fruitlessly, to persuade a loved one that the hateful rhetoric they support undermines everything they once stood for. Perhaps you sit across from your parent, who raised you with Bible verses about compassion, taught you to be kind, but now leans into political ideologies rooted in fear and blame. You remind them of the love they once preached, highlight the passages they claim to hold sacred, recount the values they drilled into you as a child — all to watch your words fall away like seeds on barren ground.
This scenario, once shocking in its rarity, now feels alarmingly common. Tensions between adult children and their parents over ideology, race, gender, or politics have become a familiar story. Many, exhausted by the attempts at reconciliation, are choosing a dramatic step once seen as unthinkable: reducing contact or cutting ties entirely. They weigh the toll such conversations take on their mental health and decide, enough is enough.
But this pattern — of enduring what we might call “abuse,” or at least toxic negativity, from someone who claims the moral or structural high ground — doesn’t stop at parental relationships. It permeates workplaces, where employers demand unpaid overtime or cancel planned vacations with no apology. It weaves into our relationship with the state itself, which imposes laws that infringe on bodily autonomy, denies resources to those who need them most, and then demands grateful obedience. And in each case, the assumption is the same: you need them more than they need you.
Slowly but surely, a shift is happening. People are beginning to see that door labeled “No Exit” may not be locked at all — perhaps, it was never locked to begin with.
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Authority Knows Best
There’s a common thread in these scenarios: each authority figure, from parent to boss to government, operates on the implicit rule that they know better than the individual. For children growing up in a rigid household, a simple question of “Why?” can be met with “Because I said so.” This statement isn’t just a conversation-stopper; it’s an assertion of absolute power. Over time, repeated often enough, it conditions a child to believe that any challenge is invalid. The dynamic can persist well into adulthood: a parent assumes their adult child is just “going through a phase,” or that the parent’s worldview, no matter how contradictory or harmful, holds more weight than the child’s experiences.
This same principle appears on the job. An employee who requests time off they’ve earned or paid for might be told, “Sorry, that’s not going to work for us. We need you here.” Protest is discouraged: “Don’t you want to be a team player?” The implication is that you, the worker, don’t really understand the bigger picture. Those with the power — your superiors — supposedly see the complexities you can’t. If that means you have to stay late without compensation, well, that’s for the good of the company.
Then, on a grander scale, the state declares certain bodily decisions off-limits. Women’s health is regulated by bodies of lawmakers who may have never faced the realities of pregnancy, forced birth, or inadequate healthcare. Yet, those lawmakers exude unwavering confidence in their decisions — “We know best.” Meanwhile, individuals affected by these laws are left grappling with the consequences.
Philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once said, “Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.” The problem arises when the “what’s been done to you” portion includes being told, day in and day out, that your freedom itself is an illusion — that the authority figure is the only one qualified to decide what’s right. Over time, it can become internalized; you might question your own judgment, your sense of worth, your ability to survive if you step out of line.
The Burden of Self-Sacrifice
A second theme shared among parents, employers, and the state is the expectation of self-sacrifice. Of course you’re supposed to give up your time, energy, and money — because that’s your duty. Your role in the system is to serve, financially or emotionally, while the authority figure — ironically — claims the benefits of your sacrifice.
Parents and Adult Children
The notion that “children owe their parents” can morph into a lifetime of giving. This might mean lending money when you can’t afford it, offering endless emotional support without reciprocity, or feeling obliged to host, help, and never disappoint. Yes, genuine care for one’s parents can be an act of love and gratitude. But many adult children discover they’re expected to provide these resources to parents who neither reciprocate respect nor acknowledge boundaries. This sets up an unhealthy dynamic where the child feels trapped: any refusal to comply brings accusations of being ungrateful or selfish. The parent’s mantra becomes, “I gave you life,” which overshadows any discussion of the parent’s own harmful behaviors.
The Workplace Treadmill
In the professional sphere, we pay into systems like Social Security or pensions that many younger workers doubt will even exist in a few decades. We work overtime, often unpaid, or remain on-call during off-hours because “that’s just how the industry is.” Overtime becomes a silent norm rather than an occasional extra. Meanwhile, corporate profits soar, shareholders reap dividends, and the workers at the ground level keep giving, rarely seeing proportional returns.
Add to that the subtle (or overt) pressure to sacrifice personal health for the job. Missing a child’s recital, skipping exercise, or ignoring mental health needs all become the price of “commitment.” Some workplaces even boast about “unlimited vacation,” only for employees to find it frowned upon to actually take that time.
A State Built on Sacrifice
On the largest scale, governments rely on citizens to provide tax revenue, military service, or general compliance. Yet we see repeated instances of veterans being neglected after their service, budgets cut for crucial healthcare programs, and pension systems in flux. Many younger citizens believe these safety nets will vanish by the time they reach retirement. The expectation remains that you keep funding the system, even if the system might never support you in return.
Psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl once noted, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” In a context where every institution demands more sacrifice, people are asking: Why keep giving to a cause that consistently fails me? By questioning this fundamental assumption of unending sacrifice, more and more individuals are realizing that maybe they can change the situation — not by reforming the entire system overnight, but by stepping away from toxic relationships with parents, quitting exploitative jobs, or rejecting political narratives that demand sacrifice without accountability.
The Myth of Need
Running through all these scenarios is a central myth: You need them more than they need you. A parent might say, “You can’t cut me out of your life; I’m your only family.” An employer frames it as, “This job is your livelihood — you won’t find better in today’s market.” A government implies (or outright states), “Without us, you’d have chaos.”
…But is that always true?
Who Needs Whom?
In a family context, it can turn out that the parent relies far more on the adult child for emotional support, errands, or financial help. Once an adult child recognizes this, they may decide to take a break, creating a noticeable vacuum in the parent’s daily life. The parent might scramble to maintain a connection they once took for granted. It isn’t that the child wants to see their parent suffer, but it’s sometimes the only way to enforce boundaries that should have been respected from the start.
In the workplace, employees often discover they have valuable, in-demand skills. When they quit, a job listing goes up immediately. Some realize that while their boss always acted as though the employee was replaceable, the true cost of turnover — training, lost productivity, and team disruption — can be substantial. Now that it’s common to see entire industries short on talent, employees realize they’re not as disposable as they’ve been told.
With governments, the situation can feel more complex. After all, society seems to be built on a social contract. But disillusioned citizens are increasingly using their limited tools of protest: organizing, voting against traditional norms, refusing to comply with certain mandates, or opting out of certain aspects of participation (in extreme cases, leaving their home country). These actions are often framed as selfish or destructive, but from the perspective of those who feel betrayed, stepping away feels like self-preservation.
In The Politics of Obedience, philosopher Étienne de La Boétie argued that the power of tyrants rests on people’s voluntary submission: “…he who dominates over you has only two eyes, has only two hands, has only one body…nothing more than is possessed by the least man among the infinite numbers dwelling in your cities.” This line is centuries old, yet it resonates with the central myth we still see today: that authority must be served. If enough people stop believing in the authority’s legitimacy, it ceases to function as it once did.
The Door Was Never Locked
Despite all the conditioning, the illusions of need, and the burden of self-sacrifice, more and more people are learning a potent truth: they can simply walk away. This notion seems almost subversive, but it’s happening in waves.
Walking Away from Toxic Parents
Cutting off or going “no contact” with parents was once considered taboo. The social narrative insisted: They’re your family; you only get one. But for many, the emotional harm inflicted by parents — whether through constant disparagement, guilt trips, manipulation, or hateful ideologies — becomes unbearable. In the past decade, a growing number of adults have decided that preserving their mental and emotional health is worth the stigma. Some choose a “low contact” approach, setting rigid boundaries on what topics are off-limits, how often they speak, or where they interact. Others choose a clean break.
At first, the child might fear condemnation from siblings, relatives, or society at large. But these decisions often bring a sense of relief and a rediscovery of self-worth. Ironically, it may be the parent who realizes they’ve lost something crucial — the unconditional love and daily presence they once counted on.
Quitting the Workplace Treadmill
The COVID-19 pandemic, in particular, catalyzed a phenomenon known as “The Great Resignation,” where employees worldwide re-evaluated the terms of their employment. Remote work, layoffs, and changing priorities led many to ask: Is this the life I want? People left unrewarding jobs in droves, found new roles, switched industries, or started their own ventures. While not everyone has the financial cushion to risk unemployment, the fact that so many stepped away proved that for many, the biggest chains were mental rather than material.
When your boss keeps you on call 24/7 or slashes benefits without warning, it’s easy to feel trapped. But stories abound of individuals walking out, pivoting careers, or negotiating better conditions because they realized that the “unbreakable” bond of their job was, in fact, breakable.
Disengaging from the State
Disengagement from the state can take many forms. For some, it’s a form of activism — refusing to vote for candidates who perpetuate harmful systems, or organizing grassroots campaigns to highlight alternatives. For others, it’s withdrawing from patriotic rituals, choosing not to identify strongly with a national identity. In extreme cases, it means physically relocating to a country that better aligns with personal values. While uprooting one’s life is no small feat, it’s happening more frequently than some might guess.
All these expressions share one crucial insight: the hold that authority figures claim to have on us often exists because wehave accepted it. When people realize they can terminate contact, leave a job, or protest government policies without collapsing into ruin, they begin to see a new horizon of possibility.
A Coming Reckoning
Authority figures — from parents to governments — operate, knowingly or not, on the assumption that people won’t leave. Parents expect that if they push hard enough or guilt-trip effectively, their adult children will maintain the relationship. Employers assume workers will stick around, because “there’s no better option.” Governments count on continued compliance to uphold social structures and financial systems.
But what happens when these assumptions break down en masse?
Societies are built on a tacit agreement: parents care for children in youth, and children care for parents in old age. Businesses provide livelihoods, and workers give labor. Governments guard citizens’ well-being, and citizens pay taxes. When one side feels chronically shortchanged or harmed, that fragile contract starts to tear. If it tears enough, a reckoning begins.
This reckoning can take shape as protests, labor strikes, or even societal shifts in how people define “family.” It can look like plummeting enlistment rates in militaries that rely on economic desperation to fill their ranks. It might emerge in a mass refusal to do business with unethical corporations. Or it could appear in the silent exodus of adult children who choose not to answer their phone when a toxic parent calls.
The real shock for authority figures is discovering that they do, in fact, need the people they once dismissed. Without the children’s care, the office’s workforce, or the citizen’s consent, the entire structure falters.
Walking Through the Door
“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”
— Alice Walker
The growing trend of adults cutting ties with parents, workers resigning from jobs that erode their well-being, or citizens disengaging from political frameworks isn’t a neat, Hollywood-style revolution. It’s more subtle, more personal, and arguably more profound. It happens in quiet living rooms, in late-night resignation emails, in deliberate acts of refusing what was once seen as unchangeable.
For those who walk away, there’s risk. There may be heartbreak, financial strain, or social stigma. Yet time and again, these individuals report an unburdening: a weight lifting that they once assumed was just part of life. Free from the emotional drain of constant conflict, they have space to rebuild, to nurture supportive relationships, to find fulfilling work, or to organize grassroots political movements that align with their values.
For those in positions of authority — parents, employers, state officials — this is a moment of potential reckoning ordialogue. They can double down on the old methods, ignoring the growing exodus, or they can choose to adapt and address the root causes that drive people away. The ultimate trajectory of this social transformation doesn’t rest in the hands of the leavers; they’ve already made peace with their decision. The real choice belongs to those who assumed obedience without question.
A parent confronted with a child’s decision to go no-contact might reflect: Have I made my love conditional on my approval? An employer losing talented people might wonder: Am I exploiting or ignoring their boundaries? A government facing dissent could ask: Why have so many lost faith in our systems?
If these questions are asked honestly, there’s a chance for conversation and reform. However, if authority figures respond with anger or denial, the exodus will continue, and new structures — new families of choice, new ways of working, new political affiliations — will form outside the old guard.
In the end, those who leave usually do so not out of hatred, but survival. And the reason they can leave is startlingly simple: the door was never locked. They were told it was locked, convinced it was locked, chastised by those who insisted no one is allowed to open it. But once you test the handle and find it turns, there’s no going back to a world where you pretend it’s stuck.
We stand at a turning point, a long overdue confrontation between tradition and transformation. Whether it erupts in conflict or opens a channel for dialogue depends on the willingness of authority figures to treat those beneath them as equals, not expendable assets.
For those who walk away, the decision is made. They’ll be fine without the structures that harmed them. What remains to be seen is whether these structures can survive — or evolve — without the people who no longer choose to stay.
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