Forgiveness is the goal, but forgetting divine.
Growing up, I really loved and identified with my mother. I overlooked so much of her abuse towards me. In a lot of ways, I grew up to be just like her, and in other ways, we could not be more dissimilar. The primary difference is that I’m always doing the work to be a better human, and well, she never has.
The saddest part is we had very similar experiences growing up. I always felt like I could help her, but she’s old school. She won’t allow her child to tell her what’s healthy. She’ll never give up that hierarchy with her on top. Whatever you do, don’t google “estranged parents forums.” Just don’t.
My parents literally believed that they owned my brother and I. We were property; not people. But as I’ve gotten older I realize that’s because so was she. I was born not long after women’s liberation. It makes me wonder if it became pathological and she literally can’t see the world from another perspective. And I pity that.
I tried my hardest not to internalize her unspoken messages about needing a man to survive, even as an AMAB person, because I definitely didn’t identify with manhood in the slightest and thought that women deserve better options.
But patriarchy still exists. When I was married to a woman, I tried my hardest to encourage her independence. When I was married to a man, I found myself fighting for my own.
For a lot of us, maintaining proximity to male privilege is still a perfectly valid survival mechanism, and for many others it’s our only option, especially when we’re disabled.
My mom was definitely disabled. So am I.
And so these are issues that men should address, not just women. Expectations of patriarchy clearly hurt men too, yet they never seem to speak up against them.
Most of us would prefer more independent survival mechanisms, but I think we all do the best we can.
Yet, when the failure to protect a child is so utterly spectacular, it’s so much harder to forget. Forgive, sure. But forget?
