Harm
In response to Dale, Tuesday, June 13, 2006 ::: Answer to Dweezila, 3
My mother did not believe in hitting children. She slapped the end knuckles of my fingers with the tips of hers, on the rare occasions that she could not get my attention with words. It stung, but I never remember feeling it unfair. My mother always apologized and explained herself. Today, it reminds me of having my hand tapped in surgery, when the retraction is to be released, a startle, but not harmful. Proportional.
My father knew my mother's feelings about hitting. Or I believe we all would have been beaten. Instead, there were the spankings. I never understood where they came from, nor do I ever feel they were fair. They hurt. They humiliated. They terrified me. In part, that I was under the authority of a person out of control. But far worse, I was dependent on someone who could hurt me with impunity. They stopped, fairly early on. And I think my mother, quietly, behind the scenes, with the United Front intact, told him that was enough. Hitting was one of the few issues she would do battle with him on. She stated quite clearly, that if he ever hit her, she would leave. I am glad her bluff worked, because I know it is harder than that. For a shy, fervently Catholic woman, born in 1925, making this her rallying cry, this had the odor of radicalism. That she put up with everything else takes the teeth out of it.
I always remembered him hitting me. And I hated and resented him for it. I fantasize killing him, after all this time. The last time, when he came apart at me, I considered taking him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. But I was better than that. I cared more for the health of my soul, than for the catharsis of revenge.
I know that I intimidate people. Some of that violence, never indulged, must leak at the edges. I want there to be a glimmer of that danger, so that I never have to unleash it.
I can harm. I will not.
No secret.
My mother did not believe in hitting children. She slapped the end knuckles of my fingers with the tips of hers, on the rare occasions that she could not get my attention with words. It stung, but I never remember feeling it unfair. My mother always apologized and explained herself. Today, it reminds me of having my hand tapped in surgery, when the retraction is to be released, a startle, but not harmful. Proportional.
My father knew my mother's feelings about hitting. Or I believe we all would have been beaten. Instead, there were the spankings. I never understood where they came from, nor do I ever feel they were fair. They hurt. They humiliated. They terrified me. In part, that I was under the authority of a person out of control. But far worse, I was dependent on someone who could hurt me with impunity. They stopped, fairly early on. And I think my mother, quietly, behind the scenes, with the United Front intact, told him that was enough. Hitting was one of the few issues she would do battle with him on. She stated quite clearly, that if he ever hit her, she would leave. I am glad her bluff worked, because I know it is harder than that. For a shy, fervently Catholic woman, born in 1925, making this her rallying cry, this had the odor of radicalism. That she put up with everything else takes the teeth out of it.
I always remembered him hitting me. And I hated and resented him for it. I fantasize killing him, after all this time. The last time, when he came apart at me, I considered taking him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. But I was better than that. I cared more for the health of my soul, than for the catharsis of revenge.
I know that I intimidate people. Some of that violence, never indulged, must leak at the edges. I want there to be a glimmer of that danger, so that I never have to unleash it.
I can harm. I will not.
No secret.
Labels: parents
Posted by Zhoen on Saturday, June 24, 2006
11 comments:
(o)
To choose not to harm--I like that...
As a veteran of many a wooden yardstick "licking", I hear you big-time, Zhoen. The scar tissue in my soul is stiff, but healed to manageability. I have never hit any of my children.
Peter.
Good. It is always an act of will not to pass on harm.
I can't ever remember my mother spanking me, although I believe she did if I did anything outrageous and/or dangerous. I know that my father, though, while we were with him, did. I mostly remember him doing it when I was failing to play quietly (he worked at home a lot), which, since I'm an only child, I had to do by myself.
It's a serious cop out to blame your parents for everything, but superficially at least, I seem to be great anecdotal evidence for the efficacy of spanking as a means of moulding a child - I'm still painfully quiet and withdrawn today.
Um, sorry for the confessional! ^_^
Pacien,
Animal trainers know that positive reinforcement works much, much better. Yet there is so much arguement for spanking children, who can actually understand speech. It boggles my mind.
All parents should have to train a few dogs before they are allowed to raise a child.
How well you know yourself. I felt the force in your writing, I think, before I felt the gentleness - that was why it took me a while to become a fan of your blog (I'm a bit of a wuss), but when I did, I really did.
Jean,
oh
While appreciating the pacifistic nature of your blog, I don't quite have the same feelings towards the efficacy of spanking. My mother hit me, my step father beat me. I have no deep-rooted feelings of anger or violence, and I honestly don't find myself feeling hatred toward my mother's second husband. I know that I am above him and his "teaching methods." My 'corporal' uprising hasn't created a reserved individual, or an violent monster. I am young, with no major personality flaws [atleast none that I can see :)] and I am in the dead center of the road to success. I feel that problems that arise from 'whipping' a child are predisposed, and would occur from many parental acts toward child deviancy.
sorry: A violent monster**
Moving blog, though, Zhoen, honestly.
jmonta,
So, would you say this is a good way raise a child? This is my point. You also forget, my father didn't beat me, only some spankings. It was all the ways that he was out of control - that was what was scary and wrong. Your parents were not right for what they did to you. Why do you want to defend it? Because you feel you have no lasting damage? My older brothers say the same as you, but I see how their lives are chaotic under the external success.
What your parents did was wrong, and until you believe that, please don't have kids.
Post a Comment
<< Home