Growing Up Under Conflicting Values

Between Two Worlds: Growing Up Under Conflicting Values 

 A Reflection Of The Past 

I am a 44-year-old woman shaped by a lifetime of deeply layered experiences, many of which began in a home that stood at the intersection of two entirely different value systems. My parents came from the same Pathan ethnicity, yet beyond that shared cultural identity, their family backgrounds had little in common.

On one side was my father’s family, liberal, highly educated, socially exposed, and open in their worldview. On the other was my mother’s family less formally educated, deeply conservative, and strongly rooted in religious traditions. As children, we were raised in a home where both of these worlds frequently collided. Relatives from both sides would visit, each carrying their own expectations, beliefs, and definitions of what was “right” and “wrong.”

For children growing up in such an environment, confusion becomes an unspoken companion. You are constantly absorbing mixed messages, about morality, faith, culture, identity, and social behavior. However, as life progresses and maturity develops, those same children slowly begin to distinguish between guidance and control, between values and judgment.

One of the most painful aspects of my childhood was not simply navigating these differences, it was enduring the relentless feedback and interference from extended family members regarding our upbringing. The level of unsolicited advice directed toward our parents about how their children should be raised was overwhelming. It placed us in a constant state of psychological survival. We were always preparing explanations, rehearsing defenses, and bracing ourselves for scrutiny. Childhood, instead of being a space for growth, often felt like a courtroom where we were perpetually on trial.

Allah warns us about such intrusive and suspicious behavior in the Qur’an:

“O you who believe! Avoid much suspicion. Indeed, some suspicion is sin. And do not spy or backbite one another…”
(Surah Al-Hujurat 49:12)

My mother was the eldest daughter in her family and had married into what was considered a modern household. We, her children, were the first among our maternal cousins, making us, in many ways, the first “experiments” in upbringing observed by both families. Gradually, the authority to shape us seemed to shift from our parents to our extended relatives. Every aspect of our lives became subject to commentary, how we spoke, how we sat, where we went, whom we met, and what we wore.

At that time, it was normalized for parents to be heavily influenced by family opinions. Under that pressure, they often passed those expectations down to us, sometimes forcefully.

I vividly remember how male figures from my mother’s family would criticize my father’s relatively liberal and less rigidly religious approach to raising daughters. Our clothing choices were constantly questioned. My mother was urged to introduce stricter forms of modesty, replacing a simple dupatta with a full chaddar. Our freedom to step outside, interact with cousins, or play sports with both boys and girls in the street became matters of concern and debate.

Yet Allah reminds believers to be just and not to let assumptions or dislike cloud fairness:

“O you who believe! Stand firmly for justice as witnesses for Allah, even if it be against yourselves, parents, or close relatives…”
(Surah An-Nisa 4:135)

There were moments when it felt as though we were being watched, our movements monitored, our actions reported back to our mother through whispers and backbiting. Conversations about faith were sometimes framed in ways that instilled fear rather than understanding, as if normal childhood activities bordered on disbelief or wrongdoing.

The Qur’an clearly condemns such moral policing rooted in gossip:

“…And do not backbite one another. Would one of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother? You would detest it…”
(Surah Al-Hujurat 49:12)

We endured questions, investigations, and remarks that left lasting emotional impressions.

As time passed, everyone grew older and became occupied with their own lives. Outwardly, the tension faded, but memories have a way of settling quietly into the back of your mind, waiting for a moment to resurface.

That moment often arrives unexpectedly, when you witness the very same families who once judged you now embracing the behaviors they once condemned. The uncles who whispered criticisms about our upbringing now watch silently as their own children engage in similar, or even more liberal, practices.

It is in such moments that the words of Allah echo with powerful clarity:

“Do you order righteousness upon the people and forget yourselves while you recite the Scripture? Then will you not reason?”
(Surah Al-Baqarah 2:44)

And again:

“O you who believe! Why do you say what you do not do? Most hateful in the sight of Allah is that you say what you do not do.”
(Surah As-Saff 61:2–3)

Activities that once attracted lectures are now accepted without resistance. Fashion trends once labeled inappropriate have become normalized. Dancing, social mingling, and modern dress are no longer seen as moral threats but as ordinary expressions of youth.

In such moments, one realizes that time has a way of exposing contradictions.

The Qur’an reminds us that our actions are never truly lost:

“So whoever does an atom’s weight of good will see it, and whoever does an atom’s weight of evil will see it.”
(Surah Az-Zalzalah 99:7–8)

It becomes clear how easy it is to judge others, to assign moral labels, and to wound people under the guise of guidance. Yet intentions never disappear. Actions leave behind consequences that eventually return, sometimes quietly, sometimes powerfully.

We may forget the words we speak or the judgments we pass, but our deeds remain recorded:

“And the record [of deeds] will be placed, and you will see the criminals fearful of that within it…”
(Surah Al-Kahf 18:49)

There is a higher awareness that knows the intentions behind every criticism, every whisper, and every imposed standard, an awareness that understands hearts more deeply than any human observer ever could:

“Indeed, Allah is Knowing of that within the breasts.”
(Surah Al-Mulk 67:13)

Life, in its own way, teaches lessons where arguments fail, and justice unfolds in silence.