The Contempt We Pass Down

I saw a dad with his kid the other day, pointing at some poop on the floor. “Be careful - some animal or something left that there.”

But here’s the thing - he could have just said “careful, don’t step in the poop.” The kid could have just stepped around it. That would have been the end of it.

So why did he need to add that extra layer? That disgust in his voice when he said “some animal or something” - like he had to make sure his kid knew whatever did that was beneath them. Less than.

Why do we do that?

This is what I keep seeing everywhere. We can’t just let things be what they are. We have to add contempt on top.

A woman looks in the mirror. She could just see her body. Instead: “I’m so gross. I hate my thighs.” Why add that? Why teach our daughters that looking at yourself requires disgust?

Partners come home tired. One could just acknowledge it. Instead: that eye roll, that edge in the voice. “Of course you’re tired.” Why add the contempt? Why not just say you’re tired too, or you need help, or let’s figure this out together?

We see someone different from us, messier, louder, living differently. We could just let them exist. Instead we add that layer of judgment, that little comment, that look. Why?

I think it’s because we’ve learned that connection isn’t enough. Observation isn’t enough. We’ve been taught we have to position ourselves in relation to everything , and the easiest position is above.

The dad couldn’t just help his kid avoid the poop. He had to make sure the kid knew: we are not like that animal. We are better than that.

We can’t just have bodies. We have to make it clear: this body is failing my standards.

We can’t just be tired or disappointed in our relationships. We have to establish: I am the one who cares more, who tries harder, who is doing it right.

This is what contempt really is: the need to separate ourselves and position ourselves as superior. It comes from disconnection - from nature, from each other, from our own animal selves. And somewhere along the way, we learned that staying connected to messy, imperfect, vulnerable things makes us vulnerable too. So we add that layer of contempt to create distance. To feel safe. To feel above it all.

But here’s what’s actually happening: we’re teaching our kids that the world is something to position yourself against, not something you’re part of.

They watch us add contempt to everything. They learn you can’t just observe - you have to judge. You can’t just exist alongside others - you have to rank yourself. You can’t just be human, you have to be better than.

And then they do it too. They absorb our resentment toward partners who don’t meet our needs. Our disgust at our own bodies. Our disdain for anything that reminds us we’re all just animals trying to survive. And they make it their own.

The dad could have just said “don’t step in that.” But he didn’t. And his kid learned something bigger than just avoiding poop. He learned that when you encounter something messy or animal or imperfect, you add contempt. You separate yourself. You make it clear you’re above it.

That’s the pattern we’re passing down.

But we could choose different. We could just let the poop be poop. Let our bodies be bodies. Let our partners be human. Let other people be different without adding that layer of judgment on top.

We could teach our kids that you’re allowed to just be part of this messy, imperfect world without constantly positioning yourself above it. That compassion doesn’t make you weak, contempt does. Because contempt is just fear of connection dressed up as superiority.

The question isn’t why there’s poop on the floor. The question is: why can’t we just step around it without adding contempt?

Maybe that’s where we start.