I never expected that speaking a language I genuinely enjoy learning would turn into a constant source of embarrassment, but that is exactly what happened. I have been learning Italian for a while now because I love the language, the culture, and the way it sounds when people speak it naturally. I am not fluent, and I have never pretended to be. I make mistakes, forget words, and sometimes struggle to put an entire sentence together. However, I practice whenever I get the chance because I want to improve. Recently, I met a girl through a mutual group of friends who speaks Italian quite well. At first, I thought she would be a great person to practice with, but our interactions quickly became frustrating.

The first time we spoke, I was genuinely excited because I finally had an opportunity to use what I had been learning. We were sitting with a few friends at a café when I mentioned something about an Italian restaurant I wanted to visit. I used an Italian phrase in the middle of my sentence, and she immediately interrupted me to correct my pronunciation. I smiled and thanked her because I assumed she was simply trying to help. She then explained the correct pronunciation in detail, repeated the word several times, and asked me to say it again until she was satisfied. Although I felt a little awkward doing this in front of everyone, I did not make a big deal out of it. I figured that corrections were part of learning a new language.

Unfortunately, it did not stop there. Every time I said something in Italian, she found a reason to correct me. Sometimes it was my pronunciation, sometimes my grammar, and sometimes the way I constructed a sentence. Even when I was simply sharing a story with my friends and using one or two Italian expressions, she would interrupt me halfway through. She often repeated what I had said in an exaggeratedly precise way before explaining why my version was wrong. I understand that learning a language involves making mistakes, and I genuinely appreciate helpful feedback. However, there is a difference between offering someone advice and making them feel as though every sentence they speak is an examination they are destined to fail.

What bothered me most was that she did not seem to understand the difference between a conversation and a language lesson. I was not attending a class, asking her to evaluate my skills, or claiming that I spoke Italian perfectly. I was simply trying to communicate and enjoy myself. Whenever she corrected me, the conversation would stop, and everyone would have to wait while she explained the mistake. A few of my friends started looking uncomfortable, while others laughed it off as part of her personality. I tried to ignore the interruptions because I did not want to create unnecessary tension in our group. Still, I gradually became more hesitant to speak Italian around her, which was the opposite of what I wanted.

One evening, we all met at a friend’s apartment for dinner. The conversation eventually turned to travel, and I started talking about a place in Italy that I hoped to visit someday. I mentioned a few things I had learned about the region and used some Italian words while explaining why I found the culture interesting. Almost immediately, she interrupted me again to correct the way I had pronounced a word. I continued speaking, but she corrected another expression before I could finish my thought. When I tried to explain what I actually meant, she interrupted a third time and told me that if I wanted to speak Italian, I should at least try to say things properly. The way she said it made me feel as though she thought I was embarrassing myself simply by trying.

That was the moment I finally lost my patience. I stopped talking, looked directly at her, and said, “Can you please stop correcting my Italian every single time I speak? I know I’m not fluent, and I’m trying to learn. I don’t need you to turn every conversation into a lesson.” The room became noticeably quiet. She looked surprised and replied that she was only trying to help me improve. I told her that I understood her intentions might be good, but constantly interrupting someone is not helpful, especially when they have never asked for corrections. I also explained that if I wanted a pronunciation lesson, I would ask for one. Until then, I would appreciate being allowed to finish a sentence without being interrupted.

She immediately became defensive and said that I was being unnecessarily sensitive. According to her, people who genuinely wanted to learn a language should welcome corrections instead of getting offended by them. She pointed out that she had spent years improving her own Italian and that she was simply sharing what she knew. I responded that I had never criticized her knowledge or suggested that she should stop helping people altogether. I was asking her to respect my boundaries and understand that not every conversation needed to become a teaching opportunity. She shook her head and said that I would never improve if I refused to accept criticism. At that point, I decided not to continue arguing because it was clear that we were not going to agree.

After dinner, a couple of friends told me privately that they understood why I was frustrated. They admitted that her constant corrections had made conversations uncomfortable for them, too, because she sometimes interrupted other people when they made mistakes in English or used unfamiliar expressions. However, another friend said that I could have handled the situation more politely. He argued that she probably believed she was doing me a favor and that embarrassing her in front of everyone was unnecessary. I have thought about that, and I can admit that my tone was sharper than it needed to be. At the same time, I feel that I had already given her several opportunities to understand that her behavior was bothering me. I should not have to remain silent indefinitely just to protect someone else’s feelings.

Since that evening, things have been a little awkward whenever we are in the same group. She has barely spoken to me, and I suspect she believes I am ungrateful for her help. I still want to improve my Italian, and I have absolutely no problem with someone correcting me when I ask for feedback or when we are specifically practicing together. What I do have a problem with is being interrupted repeatedly while trying to enjoy a normal conversation. I do not expect people to pretend my Italian is perfect, but I also do not think making mistakes should mean surrendering my right to speak without constant criticism. Now I am wondering whether I was too harsh in telling her to stop, or whether I was simply standing up for myself after putting up with the same behavior for too long. So, AITA?

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AITA for telling a girl to stop correcting my Italian?

For a little bit of context, I am Italian, born and raised in Naples, in the southern part of Italy. I lived there for the first eighteen years of my life before moving to Oxford to study law. Even though I live away from Italy now, I still go back during my summer and winter breaks to visit my parents and relatives.

I love my hometown, and Italian culture and language are still a huge part of who I am. I speak Italian regularly with my friends back home, and I have plenty of pictures with my family in Italy from when I was younger and from my more recent visits.

I am also a trans man, meaning I was assigned female at birth, and my name is Nicholas. My old name was Michela, which is obviously a very Italian name.

I sometimes mention both names when meeting new people because I still have a somewhat feminine appearance, and I would rather explain things myself than have someone make assumptions.

I have a relatively small group of friends here, and we usually hang out together without bringing too many new people into the circle. One day, one of my friends, whom I will call Marie, invited another girl named Lily to join us. Lily was not someone any of us knew particularly well, so we were all introducing ourselves and making small talk. Everything seemed normal at first, and I had no reason to dislike her. However, I quickly noticed that she had an unusual obsession with Italy and, more specifically, with sounding Italian. She kept talking about Italian accents, trying to imitate the way Italians speak, and throwing random Italian words into conversations.

The problem was that her pronunciation was honestly terrible.

I am not talking about someone who is learning a language and making understandable mistakes. She seemed much more interested in performing an exaggerated Italian accent than actually learning how the language worked.

When Lily learned that I was Italian, she suddenly became much more interested in talking to me. She started asking questions about Italian culture, the food, the people, and what life was like growing up in Naples.

I answered her questions because I genuinely enjoy talking about my hometown, and I did not mind her curiosity at all.

She eventually asked me to say something in Italian. I had absolutely no problem with that, so I casually said, “Beh, questo è italiano, lingua molto complicata, eh?” which roughly translates to, “Well, this is Italian, a very complicated language, huh?”

It was nothing special, just a simple sentence that came naturally to me. Lily immediately said that it sounded really cool and seemed impressed. For a moment, I thought we were getting along perfectly fine, and I was happy that she was interested in my language.

Then Lily decided to correct me. She looked at me and said something along the lines of, “You know, that’s not how you say ‘complicato’ in Italian, by the way.” I genuinely thought I had misunderstood her because I am literally a native Italian speaker who grew up speaking the language every day.

I politely asked her what she meant and how she knew the correct pronunciation. Instead of explaining herself, she confidently repeated the word “complicato,” but her pronunciation was completely wrong. I had to stop myself from laughing because the irony of the situation was almost unbelievable.

Here was a girl who had never even visited Italy, correcting someone who had spent eighteen years living there.

I calmly pointed out that she was actually mispronouncing the word herself. I was not trying to embarrass her or start an argument. I simply thought she might realize her mistake and move on.

Unfortunately, Lily did not take it well at all. She immediately became defensive and insisted that I was the one who was wrong. She claimed that she knew much more about Italian than I did, which was honestly one of the most ridiculous things I had heard in a long time. I asked her how she could possibly know more than a native speaker when she had never even been to Italy. Instead of giving me a reasonable answer,

she doubled down and acted as though my correcting her was some kind of personal attack. She continued arguing with me about the pronunciation of my own language, despite having no actual experience living in Italy or speaking Italian with native speakers.

At that point, my patience was running out. I had been perfectly friendly, answered her questions, and even agreed to speak Italian when she asked. I had no idea why she suddenly felt entitled to lecture me about something I had known since childhood.

Eventually, I had enough. I looked at her and bluntly told her to shut the fuck up about my Italian. Then I got up and left because I had absolutely no intention of spending my evening arguing with someone who seemed determined to prove that she knew more about my own language than I did. Could I have chosen more polite words? Absolutely. However, I was frustrated by the fact that she had started the entire argument by correcting me when I had done nothing wrong. I had not mocked her accent, criticized her interest in Italian culture, or told her she was not allowed to learn the language. All I did was speak naturally, and she decided that she somehow had the authority to correct me. I figured leaving was better than staying and letting the situation turn into an even bigger argument. I assumed that would be the end of it, but apparently, Lily had more to say after I was gone.

Later, Marie and a couple of my other friends told me what happened after I left. According to them, Lily started claiming that I must be some kind of “fraud.” Nobody could quite understand what she meant by that. Apparently, she was suggesting that I was lying about being Italian, although I have no idea what she thought I would gain from doing that.

My friends were understandably confused because they knew me well enough to know that I was telling the truth. They pointed out my natural Italian accent, the fact that I regularly speak Italian with my friends who still live and work in Italy, and the fact that I frequently visit my parents and relatives back home.

They even mentioned the photographs I have with my family in Italy, including pictures from my childhood and more recent visits during my university breaks. Basically, they had plenty of reasons to believe me, and Lily had absolutely nothing to support her accusation.

Things apparently became even more awkward when my friends started challenging her claims. They asked her why she thought she knew more about Italian pronunciation than someone who had actually grown up speaking Italian.

They also pointed out that having an interest in a language did not automatically make her an expert in it. Lily apparently continued trying to defend herself, but eventually, my friends decided they had had enough.

They left her behind rather than continuing to entertain the argument. The awkward part was that Lily had arrived in Marie’s car, so when everyone left, she had no ride home with our group. I was not there when this happened, and I did not tell anyone to leave her behind.

My friends made that decision themselves after the whole situation unfolded. When they later explained everything to me, I was honestly surprised that the argument had escalated so far. What started as an unnecessary correction had somehow turned into her questioning whether I was even Italian.

Now I am wondering whether I was too harsh in the way I handled the situation. I understand that telling someone to shut the fuck up is not exactly the most diplomatic response, and I could probably have handled my frustration more calmly. However, I also think there is a limit to how much disrespect someone should be expected to tolerate. I never had a problem with Lily wanting to learn Italian, enjoying Italian culture, or trying to develop an Italian accent. Everyone starts somewhere, and making mistakes is completely normal when learning another language.

What bothered me was her confidence in correcting a native speaker, her refusal to accept that she might be wrong, and her decision to question my identity when she could not win the argument.

I did not expect my friends to get involved or leave her without a ride, and I am not sure whether that part of the situation was justified. I simply wanted her to stop correcting me about a language I grew up speaking.

So, Reddit, AITA for telling Lily to shut the fuck up about my Italian, or was I justified in snapping after she repeatedly insisted that she knew more than me?

A Little About My Italian Background and Personal Life

For a little bit of context, I am Italian, born and raised in Naples, in the southern part of Italy. I lived there for the first eighteen years of my life before moving to Oxford to study law. Even though I live away from Italy now, I still go back during my summer and winter breaks to visit my parents and relatives. I love my hometown, and Italian culture and language are still a huge part of who I am. I speak Italian regularly with my friends back home, and I have plenty of pictures with my family in Italy from when I was younger and from my more recent visits. I am also a trans man, meaning I was assigned female at birth, and my name is Nicholas. My old name was Michela, which is obviously a very Italian name. I sometimes mention both names when meeting new people because I still have a somewhat feminine appearance, and I would rather explain things myself than have someone make assumptions.

I moved to Oxford to study law, and although I enjoy my life here, I occasionally miss the atmosphere of Naples. There is something special about being surrounded by people who understand your culture without needing everything explained to them. I miss the food, the familiar streets, the way people talk, and even the little expressions that are difficult to translate into English. Fortunately, I have managed to make some good friends here, and we have a small group that regularly meets up to eat, talk, and spend time together. We are not a huge group, but that is exactly how I like it. Everyone generally gets along, and we rarely have serious disagreements. I appreciate having a circle of people around whom I can relax and be myself without constantly worrying about how I sound or how other people interpret my identity.

One day, one of my friends, whom I will call Marie, invited another girl named Lily to hang out with us. Lily was a friend of hers from outside our usual circle, so the rest of us had never met her before. We were all introducing ourselves and making small talk when I noticed that Lily seemed unusually interested in Italian culture. At first, I thought this was great. I love meeting people who are curious about Italy, and I am always happy to talk about my hometown or recommend places to visit. However, as the conversation continued, I began noticing that her interest was not quite what I expected. She seemed particularly obsessed with sounding Italian rather than simply learning about the country and its language.

Lily kept talking about Italian accents and how much she loved the way Italian people spoke. She occasionally attempted to imitate an Italian accent while speaking English, and she would randomly insert Italian words into her sentences. Unfortunately, her attempts were not particularly accurate. I completely understand that people make mistakes when learning another language, and I would never judge someone simply because their pronunciation was imperfect. Learning a language takes time, practice, and patience. What seemed strange to me was how confident she was while making these attempts. She spoke as though she had mastered the language when, from what I could tell, she knew only a handful of expressions. Still, I did not say anything because I did not want to embarrass someone I had only just met.

Eventually, Lily discovered that I was Italian, and her attention immediately shifted toward me. She started asking all sorts of questions about Italian culture, the food, the people, and what it had been like growing up in Naples. I answered everything politely because I genuinely enjoy discussing my background. She also asked about my name, and I explained that my name was Nicholas but that my old name had been Michela. Since I am a trans man and still have a somewhat feminine appearance, I sometimes provide that information when meeting new people so they do not become confused about my name. Lily seemed interested in everything I said, and I initially assumed that she was simply excited to meet someone who had grown up in the country she admired so much.

After asking me several questions, Lily requested that I say something in Italian. I had absolutely no problem with that, so I casually said, “Beh, questo è italiano, lingua molto complicata, eh?” which roughly means, “Well, this is Italian, a very complicated language, huh?” It was just a simple sentence, and I was not trying to impress anyone or give a formal language lesson. I was simply responding to her request. Lily immediately smiled and said that it sounded really cool. She seemed genuinely impressed by the way I spoke, and for a moment, I thought the conversation was going well. I was perfectly happy to answer more questions or even teach her a few expressions if she wanted to learn something new.

Then, completely out of nowhere, Lily decided to correct me. She said something along the lines of, “You know, that’s not how you say ‘complicato’ in Italian, by the way.” I honestly thought I had misunderstood her at first. I had spent eighteen years living in Italy, speaking Italian every day, and using the language with my family and friends. I was not claiming to be a professional linguist or a teacher, but I was certainly familiar with my own native language. I looked at her and politely asked how she knew the correct pronunciation. I expected her to explain that she had studied Italian for years or perhaps had spent time living with Italian speakers. Instead, she confidently repeated the word “complicato” in a way that was clearly incorrect.

I was genuinely confused by the situation. I could understand someone correcting me if I had made an obvious mistake, especially if I were speaking a language I had only recently started learning. However, Lily was correcting a native speaker while mispronouncing the exact word she was trying to correct. I pointed this out to her and explained that her pronunciation was actually wrong. I was not shouting, insulting her, or trying to make her look stupid in front of our friends. I simply thought that she would recognize the mistake, laugh about the misunderstanding, and move on with the conversation. Everyone makes mistakes, and there is nothing embarrassing about admitting that you do not know something.

Unfortunately, Lily reacted as though I had personally insulted her. She immediately became defensive and insisted that I was the one who was wrong. She claimed that she knew much more about Italian than I did, which was an absolutely bizarre thing to hear from someone who had never even visited Italy. I asked her how she could possibly know more than a person who had grown up speaking the language. Rather than reconsidering her position, she doubled down and continued insisting that her pronunciation was correct. At this point, the conversation had become uncomfortable for everyone sitting around us. What should have been a harmless discussion about language had turned into a strange competition that I had never wanted to participate in.

I tried to remain calm because I did not want to ruin the evening for my friends. I explained that Italian pronunciation can be difficult for beginners and that I had no problem with her trying to learn. I also told her that if she genuinely wanted to improve, she could ask questions instead of confidently correcting people without knowing whether she was right. I thought this was a reasonable explanation, but Lily seemed to take it as another challenge to her knowledge. She continued arguing that she knew what she was talking about and that I should listen to her. The more she spoke, the more frustrated I became. It was not simply that she had made a mistake. It was that she refused to accept any possibility that someone who had actually grown up speaking Italian might know more than she did.

What made the situation especially ridiculous was that I had never claimed my Italian was perfect in every possible situation. Languages change, regional expressions differ, and even native speakers sometimes disagree about grammar or usage. I am perfectly capable of learning new things about my own language. If someone offers a correction respectfully and has a valid point, I have no problem listening. However, there is a difference between a genuine correction and someone acting as though they are an authority on a language simply because they enjoy imitating its accent. Lily was not asking me a question or offering a suggestion. She was telling me that I was wrong while providing no credible reason to believe that she knew better.

Eventually, I lost my patience. I looked at her and told her to shut the fuck up about my Italian. Then I got up and left. I know that was not the most polite thing I could have said, and I am not going to pretend that my wording was particularly diplomatic. However, I was tired of being lectured about a language I had spoken since childhood. I had answered her questions, entertained her interest in my culture, and agreed to speak Italian when she asked me to. I had not mocked her accent or told her that she was not allowed to learn the language. I simply expected her to show the same respect toward me that I had shown toward her. When she refused to do that, I decided that leaving was better than continuing an argument that was going nowhere.

At the time, I assumed that walking away would be the end of the matter. I was annoyed, but I did not want to spend the rest of my evening thinking about someone I had only just met. I figured Lily would calm down, realize that she had misunderstood the situation, and perhaps apologize later. I also did not expect my friends to choose sides or turn the incident into a major discussion. From my perspective, the issue was straightforward: she had corrected me incorrectly, refused to accept that she might be mistaken, and made an otherwise enjoyable evening uncomfortable. I had expressed my frustration and removed myself from the situation. I thought that would be enough.

However, later on, Marie and a couple of my other friends told me that the situation had become even stranger after I left. Apparently, Lily started claiming that I must be some kind of fraud. I still do not fully understand what she meant by that. From what my friends told me, she seemed to be suggesting that I was lying about being Italian or somehow pretending to have a background that was not actually mine. This was particularly confusing because I had never given her any reason to suspect that. I had simply introduced myself, answered her questions, and spoken in my native language. Somehow, the fact that I disagreed with her pronunciation had apparently convinced her that my entire identity was questionable.

My friends were understandably baffled by this accusation. They knew that I was Italian, and they had heard me speaking Italian with other people many times before. They also knew that I regularly returned to Italy during my university breaks to visit my parents and relatives. According to them, they pointed out my Italian accent and the fact that I still speak Italian with friends who live and work in Italy. They also mentioned the photographs I have with my family in Italy, including pictures from when I was younger and more recent photos from my visits home. Obviously, I should not have to provide photographs or prove my family connections to someone just because they disagree with my pronunciation. Still, my friends apparently felt that Lily’s accusation was so ridiculous that they wanted to make it clear that she had no reason to question where I came from.

Rather than accepting that she might have misunderstood something, Lily apparently continued defending herself. My friends told me that she seemed convinced that she knew more about Italian pronunciation than I did, even after they explained that I had grown up in Naples. I cannot say exactly what was going through her mind because I was no longer there, but the whole thing sounded exhausting. I do not understand why someone would become so invested in proving a stranger wrong about their own background. If she had simply said that she was interested in Italian and wanted to learn more, I would have happily talked to her. Instead, she turned a friendly conversation into an argument and then apparently tried to discredit me when things did not go her way.

Eventually, my friends decided that they had had enough of the discussion. They left Lily behind rather than continuing to argue with her. There was one awkward complication, though: Lily had arrived in Marie’s car, meaning that she was relying on Marie for a ride home. When the others left, Lily was left without a ride from our group. I want to make it clear that I was not there when this happened, and I did not tell anyone to abandon her. My friends made that decision themselves after the argument and the accusations that followed. I only learned about it afterward when they told me what had happened. I was surprised that things had escalated to that point, because I had never intended to create a situation where someone would be stranded or left in an uncomfortable position.

I understand that leaving someone without transportation can be a serious matter, depending on where they are and what alternatives they have. I do not know every detail of what happened after I walked away, so I cannot say whether my friends handled that part perfectly. They were angry on my behalf, but I also recognize that their frustration does not automatically make every decision they made the right one. At the same time, Lily was responsible for the way she behaved during the conversation, and she could not reasonably expect everyone to keep entertaining her argument indefinitely. I was not responsible for arranging her transportation, and I certainly had not asked my friends to punish her on my behalf. Their decision was theirs, not mine.

Since then, I have been thinking about whether I should have handled the original confrontation differently. On one hand, I believe I had every right to tell Lily to stop correcting me when she clearly did not know what she was talking about. On the other hand, I could have expressed myself without swearing at her. I could have simply told her that I was not interested in continuing the conversation and walked away earlier. I recognize that my response was blunt, and I am willing to admit that I was angry. However, I also think it is unfair to focus entirely on my choice of words while ignoring what led up to it. I had tried to be friendly and patient, but she continued insisting that she knew more about my native language than I did.

I also find it strange that Lily apparently interpreted my frustration as evidence that I was somehow a fraud. Being Italian is not a qualification that someone else gets to approve or reject based on whether they agree with your pronunciation. I grew up in Naples, have family there, return regularly, and continue speaking Italian with people who live there. I do not need to prove any of that to someone I have just met. More importantly, even if I had been someone who learned Italian as a second language, I would still have deserved to be treated respectfully. The problem was never that Lily wanted to learn Italian or that she had an interest in the accent. The problem was the way she handled being corrected herself.

I would have had absolutely no issue with Lily asking me how to pronounce a word or requesting help with a sentence. In fact, I probably would have enjoyed teaching her a few expressions from Naples and explaining how regional accents can differ from standard Italian. I understand that language learning can be intimidating, and I appreciate anyone who makes an honest effort to learn another language. However, confidence should not become arrogance, and enthusiasm should not be an excuse to dismiss someone else’s experience. There is nothing wrong with being a beginner. There is something wrong with refusing to acknowledge that you might be a beginner while insisting that an actual native speaker is mistaken.

Another thing that bothered me was how quickly a small disagreement became personal. We had known each other for only a short time, yet Lily apparently felt comfortable questioning my background simply because I challenged her claim. I cannot imagine meeting someone from another country, correcting their native language incorrectly, and then accusing them of lying when they point out my mistake. It would be embarrassing to realize that I had done something like that, but the reasonable response would be to apologize and move on. Nobody expects everyone to know everything. What matters is whether people can admit when they are wrong and treat others with basic respect.

I have not made any effort to contact Lily since the incident. We were not friends, and I do not see a reason to pursue a relationship with someone who treated me that way during our first meeting. If Marie wants to remain friends with her, that is entirely her choice, and I am not going to tell my friends whom they can or cannot spend time with. However, I would prefer not to be placed in another situation where I have to defend my identity or listen to someone lecture me about my own language. If we happen to be in the same room again, I will be civil, but I will not pretend that what happened was acceptable.

I also do not think that being a native speaker makes me automatically right about every linguistic question. There are regional differences, slang expressions, and grammatical details that even native speakers can debate. If Lily had provided a genuine explanation or pointed out a real mistake, I would have been willing to listen. But she did not do that. She simply insisted that her pronunciation was correct, refused to accept my explanation, and claimed to know more than me despite having never visited Italy. When someone refuses to listen to the very person they asked to demonstrate the language, it becomes difficult to have a productive conversation.

My friends seem to think that I was justified in walking away, although some of them have admitted that telling her to shut the fuck up was harsh. I can accept that criticism. I could have been more diplomatic, and perhaps a calmer response would have prevented the situation from escalating further. However, I do not believe I was obligated to sit there quietly while someone repeatedly challenged my knowledge of Italian and then questioned whether I was even Italian in the first place. I am allowed to set boundaries, and I am allowed to leave a conversation that has become disrespectful.

So, Reddit, I am asking for an outside perspective. Was I the asshole for telling Lily to shut the fuck up about my Italian after she tried to correct my pronunciation and insisted that she knew more than me? Should I have handled the situation more politely, especially since we had only just met? And am I somehow responsible for the fact that my friends later decided to leave her behind after she accused me of being a fraud? I do not regret standing up for myself, but I am willing to admit that my reaction might have been stronger than necessary. I would appreciate an honest judgment, because I genuinely cannot tell whether I crossed a line or simply reached the end of my patience with someone who refused to respect me.