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Trigger warning- this speaks of sexual abuse
First born daughter in a mixed race family that, from the outside, looks like the perfect family. Father came to the US and worked hard to become a highly respected doctor. Mother met father in college and became a teacher (an accepted and traditional profession for a woman). She was still able to birth 4 children and overextend herself like every other culturally Southern mother did during the 1980s growing up. We were raised with a mix of diversity and puritanical Calvinism of the “New South” of the 1980’s. The next sibling in line from me was my brother. We are two years apart. Then another sister and a little brother. It was obvious early on that my brother next in line was treated differently from me. He was allowed to party in highschool where I never was. I was encouraged to take up for him on the schoolboys when he was bullied. My chunky kid body was constantly critiqued by my Uber thin mother and my Asian father who was used to being around females that had eating disorders because they felt the pressure to be thin. My brother partied all through college and the world stopped when I received my first and only college demerit for being at a party on campus. The expectations and misogynistic double standards ran amuck. My mother was often worse than my father- allowing her son to be excused because “boys will be boys” and then telling me I was a “Jezebel” because I spent the night at my steady boyfriend’s house at the age of 22. It was a culture I was indoctrinated into.
But I get ahead of myself here… I travel back to the year I turned 12. My mother decided she wanted to go to law school. She was very smart and had always wanted to study law. I always got the feeling that dad wasn’t keen on her becoming an attorney. She instead decided on a Masters in Education part time. She made the excuse that her “difficult pregnancy with her last child caused her to experience a stroke during the pregnancy and, therefore, losing some brain power… so she couldn’t do law school”. Looking back, I don’t remember her ever experiencing a stroke and i really think she sacrificed a law degree for something “more traditional “ in order to save my father’s fragile ego.
She started attending classes at a local prestigious University at night. Dad would look after us in the evening when she was at class. He would make sure the homework was done and we were fed, etc. I started the school year at a good place if I remember correctly. I did well in my classes and I enjoyed the youth group at our church (the only real place I was allowed friends or a social life). Things changed starting close to Christmas- and not for the better.
I remember that Dad started to rough house with us in the TV room. It was very innocent at first. If one looked in the door from the outside, one would have to seen dad picking my youngest sibling up on his shoulders and the others jumping on him while he tickled them. It seemed acceptable to everyone. Again, I was 12 and chunky and starting to develop as a preteen. I was in that very awkward stage of growth, yet still very much a child. Dad started tickling me also. It was fun. Dad never really participated in my life. Kudos came when I made good grades. My mother was more involved with my life- to a point of absolute control of what I wore, how I had my hair (long and in braids), where I socialized (church), and definitely no makeup allowed for several more years. So when dad started showing me some attention, it was welcome. I felt wanted. This proved to be a double edged sword.
What I am about to describe is very triggering and it’s the first time I’m actually describing what happened to me in detail. Over some time, his tickling became touching. I remember my other siblings innocently jumping on his back and laughing and shouting in the midst of him pinning me down and being on top of me tickling me and his bare hand starting to touch me under my shirt and creeping up to right underneath my very small developing breasts. I remember him pushing my legs apart slowly with his legs and I also remember feeling his erection. I also remember him rubbing up against me and him “tickling” my neck with his mouth… I remember thinking “this is not good- it’s gone too far- what is he doing?!” I can’t really remember how many times it got this far. I started staying upstairs in my room after school. He never came up which was a good thing. After a little while I thought it was just a passing thing. One night, I came downstairs to be with my sibs to watch some TV. Dad came in and started the “tickle play” again. I never moved from the couch. He came and sat beside me and started to tickle me. It was obvious I wanted to get away and I moved away on the couch. Unbeknownst to all of us, mom had arrived home early due to a cancelled class. She opened the closed TV room door and her gaze met my my face. It was obvious to me that the look on my face, the direction I was moving on the couch, and my dad’s hands on me close to places deemed taboo, showed my mom a scene that merited her look of “what the freak is going on here”?
I immediately ran upstairs to my room. I was expecting to hear some sort of heated discussion, but I never did. I noticed that they were downstairs talking for a long time. I went on to bed and mom never asked me anything about what she walked in on. Dad never mentioned it to me again. He never tried to tickle me or us as a sibling group again.
The rest of that 7th grade year was a shitshow. It wasn’t until I was in some heavy therapy a decade ago that I realized how I handled this situation as a 12 year old. I ended up getting in trouble in Language arts class for talking incessantly. So much so that I was sent to the principal’s office. Amazingly, my parents were never contacted because both the principal and my teacher said “this is not like you and it’s probably just a one off.” I got into a fight with one of my friends at school and almost got kicked off the bus. Finally, I got caught cheating on a major quiz by my Biology teacher. That was my favorite class and she was my favorite teacher that year. The quiz was on the heart and how blood flows through it. It was an easy quiz to master. Something I could study for easily and was interested in normally. The night before, I totally ignored studying for it. I remember thinking that it didn’t matter.
That day was the day I got caught cheating on a quiz. The first and only time that has happened. It’s like I wanted to be caught. My teacher didn’t make a huge deal about it during the quiz. She just came up to me from behind and whispered in my “stay after class- I need to speak to you about this quiz”. I knew exactly what she meant. I was so embarrassed and ashamed. I knew better. I had been raised better. What was I thinking? I stayed after and my teacher told me I would get a zero on the quiz. She then looked at me with a very disappointed look and asked “what is going on? This isn’t like you at all? Is there anything you want tot talk to me about?” She was a very good teacher and quite good at reading her students. I told her I was just having a bad day. She again asked if there was anything I needed to talk about in private. I said no. She never told my parents- but that quiz brought my A grade down to a B. My parents never pressed me or any of the teachers about it.
So these memories were kinda there- but over the years it was like it was locked away. I never spoke of it to anyone ever. I grew up with a double standard in our home. The guys got away with a lot- the girls were expected to toe the line and do right. The girls “represented” the “good reputation” of our highly reputable and church going family.
I’m the meantime, I went on to college and did very well. Younger brother came two years later and became an alcoholic and party animal- showing up for classes drunk from the night before. He became entitled while I was shamed.
I went on to get a PhD and got married. I chose not to have children. I’m fact, I have been married three times. No kids. Never wanted any. For years I would lie to my mother that I wanted them. In her eyes, I was not a success until I became a mom like her and “give her grandchildren”. She was never happy about my persuing a professional career as a woman and has made it very clear over the years.
My party animal brother barely graduated from college and then, by “the power of Jesus” decided to attend seminary and become a minister. EVERYONE that knew him was floored. My parents were so happy and proud.
Of course, he married someone he would later have multiple affairs on (one during the pregnancy of his first child) and then become a functioning alcoholic in order to deal with a marriage he no longer wanted to be part of. He would never leave his wife though because it would cost him more money than he had and a job with the church “with a good pension”. My parents enable the hypocrite because he is still married and has kids. It’s like having an 800 lb elephant in the room. It’s kind of a joke I have with my sister - “who’s the golden child?”
Over time, I sought counseling because I really needed it. I kept seeking a partner and then wanted marriage. I should never have pursued any marriage until I was emotionally healthy. My sister did the same thing. It was in my first round of therapy that I revealed the groping / fondling that happened to me in my 12th year of life. I revealed it like it wasn’t a big deal. “Well, you see, my mom was so busy with her degree program and I’m sure she probably wasn’t giving dad the attention he needed- I figure that why he acted out like he did … it didn’t happen again and it’s forgiven. I’m
Fine- really. My parents are good parents and did so many good things in their lives. They overcame prejudice and even marched with MLK in Birmingham back in the day. They are loved by so many people…”
My therapist looked at me like I was crazy and reminded me that I had been sexually assaulted as a child and using the verbiage “groped/fondled “ didn’t quite explain what actually happened and how it has affected me since. I had no clue I had been affected. After a year of therapy, I realized how it had affected my relationship with my father. How that fragmented relationship had negative consequences in all my relationships with men to include my brother. How I enabled my own broth’s bad behavior by making excuses for him like I had done my father.
I found myself talking on the phone with my mother one day and she said something dismissive and snarky to me about my career. This time I lost my shit and blurted out what dad had done to me some 13 years before. (I was in my 20s at this time). She was shocked and later drove herself and dad to my condo in another state and demanded to see me. I didn’t want to let them in. I shouldn’t hVe let them in- but I ended up doing it anyway. My mother demanded it be sorted out then and there. She cried. Dad was crying like he was so sorry. I was stunned. I had not imagined he would be so remorseful. He begged my forgiveness- said it had been a “one off” and that he would seek professional help along with my mother. I was so relieved that my parents saw me for the first time and really cared about what happened to me. I was so relieved that dad would get help so we could understand why he did what he did. I was so relieved that it had never happened since. My mother wanted to stay with him and “help him through this”. It was not long after that incident that they soon started sleeping in separate bedrooms. They both started drinking alcohol more. Mom started spending money like crazy. Dad would not say anything about it.
And for many years after that I thought it was all sorted. I was free and so were my parents. But I was still having experiences of “am I crazy is or is my mom/dad a bit hypocritical and misogynistic when it comes to their son/ daughters?” I was out of my second marriage and into my third when I started noticing my younger sister was slowly backing away from me both emotionally and physically. She grew more and more distant with me and would tell me I was judgemental towards her when I mentioned she should get help after her DUI. She was drinking more also after work. I finally heard from her after a long two month stint of nothing. That’s when she finally told me “dad did the same thing to me.” She described a similar story and it started happening right after his teary eyed confession back in the day. I was so angry and sad. I was more upset that it happened to her than myself (which is, in itself, not cool) because she was my little sister. He had lied. He won an Oscar that day he confessed and begged all our forgiveness. My sister told my mom and I also called and left a message with mom. My sister said that mom basically was numb to the story and said “well your father has had many years of therapy and the psychiatrist said that it was a cultural thing that he did- his Asian culture normalizes sexually groping younger women as a joke.” When I spoke to my mother, she basically told me I had made their life hell and that dad had been through therapy and what the psychiatrist said about the Asian culture normalization -and blah blah blah. My sister in law (married to the youngest brother) called me and told me that my own mother had been speaking to family members with a “smear campaign” of me in tow saying that I was mercurial and needed help. To my knowledge, no one has spoken of my dad’s deeds to anyone outside of my parents, sister, and the oldest brother. The youngest brother, to my knowledge, does not know.
I never mentioned it to anyone I’ve been in a serious relationship with until now. It’s too stigmatizing. For years I pretended like my family was perfect. It certainly looks perfect from the outside. It was less painful that way. I didn’t have to face my own issues by doing that. I didn’t have to see things as they are. In the past 5 years I have told my present partner and he has been loving and accepting. He has listened and been patient.
I struggle now with how to go forward with my parents. I am the black sheep because I told the truth. I’m also compassionate and co-dependent-like anyone in my situation would be. I love my parents but I also see them in the daylight. My narcissistic mother who, herself, was sexually abused by her older alcoholic brother - but still insisted on trying to win his love. The way she has made excuses for a husband I know she loves but also resents. The way she has enabled her oldest son, my brother, to stop going to Alcoholics Anonymous so they can all continue to drink when they get together. The was my father continues the misogyny theme by doubling down on his gaslighting of his daughters, his devaluation of us, and his shallow valuation of my brother. They way both parents blame my brother’s wife for HiS infidelity over the years.
They did so many good things for us as parents. There were many good times also. We are all human, I realize that. They are old now. I see them with health issues and I want to help. But then I get the same old behavior right back and I feel like a fool.
I see where they were awesome in those early years- but something fell apart and it really hasn’t gotten better.
It is sad really. It has made our sibling group estranged. We aren’t close. My brother the preacher man is the “golden child” and I don’t trust him- no one really does. My sister told me “we think you are too loyal” and from then on I don’t trust her. I find she talks to me when she wants information. She still seeks positive feedback from preacher brother even though she is the first to say “he knows who he is- and it’s not nice”. The youngest brother has his own issues and we don’t really talk. He has PTSD from his deployments to the Middle East and has his own family to support and worry about. I never ever want him to know the truth.
So I’ve written it out. Wow. I’m still working to move forward in life and to still be a compassionate human being. But I have also had to learn how to put out real boundaries for myself in order to take care of me. This is something I never learned- so I learn it now.
Thank you 🙏 for listening.
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thank you. This site opens my eyes to how horrible family can be. yes I was victimized by my family as well. No one speaks of it still. but everyone knows.
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