It's hard to believe but it's coming on three years now since I recovered the last tranche of horrific trauma memories stored in my subconscious from a childhood held hostage by the Catholic Church. It took a dedicated team of dissociative identities just to keep that story a secret for thirty years and it took embracing those identities and the gender identity that they concealed to survive the whole truth and the whole truth is that I was a terrified five-year-old trans girl whose parents were too busy hustling for the American dream to hear her dysphoric outbursts. They chose to pawn me off to a local Catholic preschool instead where a pair of priests used my desperate confusion as an opportunity to have a good time before convincing me that all the adults were in on it.
My tumultuous gender transition coupled with parts work therapy broke the story, but once it was out, there was no going back. Every week is still a struggle laden with violent flashbacks, chronic exhaustion, and multiple personalities dealing with the existential tragedy of a life lived in the shadows of more lies than the five of us can count. We barely survived the last thirty-six months, and we may not have if we didn't find a way to turn all this trauma into something constructive. The alters and I have done this by reaching out to other Queer kids trying to survive the same conservative rural community that nearly killed me. So, when I'm not busy writing, switching or bushwacking through hours of trauma therapy, I facilitate a Queer youth group at a local volunteer bookstore.
The kids that I work with have saved my life in more ways than I can count but they have also brought my trauma into the perspective of a big picture that is quite abominable both in its nature and its magnitude. The despicable truth is that at least two-thirds of these kids have been abused too. At least half of that lot have been molested and in nearly every single case the culprit was the supposedly sacred nuclear family. Far from the popular notion of the Queer as a threat to traditional family values, "traditional family values" serve Queer kids up to sexual predators like a short order cook at a cannibal cafe.
The story generally goes that the parents never listen. They get burned out trying to go it alone in the petty hierarchy of suburban monotony. Things fall apart and some stepparent is introduced to maintain the illusion of domestic normalcy or maybe the unhappy couple stick it out in misery and stick their kid with some uncle or some neighbor or some priest. Some trusted figure who they barely know through the white picket cell of the American nightmare.
The Queer kids stick out on the predatory radar because we don't fit into this Norman Rockwell menagerie of strict gender norms and heteronormative expectations and that scares us before we even understand why. The parents work too hard to notice we're terrified. Someone close by does however and we become some sadistic straight man's broken toy.
I see it over and over and over again and it's fucking infuriating. The only thing worse than this suburban assembly line of sexual degradation is "the parents." Not just yours and mine but the entire reactionary peanut gallery who adopts that identity to justify their dominion over the convoluted construct that they have turned childhood into. "The parents" want "the children", theirs and yours, to be sheltered from all knowledge about their rapidly changing bodies. "The parents" who think they know more about those bodies than "the children" who live in them... "The parents" who want "the children" to be shrink-wrapped in some charade of biblical innocence, kept docile and quiet and clean, like anatomically correct Kewpie dolls...
"The parents" who prep "the children" for rape with this crap. "The parents" who refuse to believe "the children" when they tell them what Uncle Ned or Neighbor Ted did. "The Parents" who disown "the children" when they change pronouns and attempt to define themselves outside of their parents' stifling expectations. "The parents" who think that I'm the fucking groomer because I am the one adult who believes their children and arms them with the kind of knowledge that can save them from becoming just another grim statistic.
Frankly, with all due respect, fuck "the parents." There are days when I wish I could round them all up, tie them together to the same tree, and beat their lizard brains out with an aluminum baseball bat.
I am so fucking tired of hearing self-proclaimed conservatives bitch and moan about the threat people like me pose to the nuclear family. What is so fucking sacred about the nuclear fucking family? This is a totally modern construct devoid of anything even remotely resembling traditional family values. The notion of family as two married adults with two children in one house in the suburbs is actually a violent and relatively recent break from thousands of years of multi-generational village life in which small, tight knit, rural communities raised their children collectively.
In fact, the nuclear family as we currently understand it is largely a construct of early twentieth century progressive academia who saw suburbia as the model for a carefully planned society built on the backs of economically efficient prisoners, with the nuclear family serving largely as the perfect means to organize each three-bedroom jail cell.
The notion of the single-parent household or the stepparent household as some kind of deviation from this mold is also false. These are generally attempts by people fractured beneath the pressure of suburban nuclear family imprisonment to rebuild something resembling that ideal of a self-contained, heteronormative, mandatory monogamous existence even after being battered by this abusive lifestyle, as is the contrivance of the two-father/two-mother gay household. The nuclear family itself is the problem, regardless of who plays the roles.
Frankly, the very notion that any four people should be going it alone on a quarter-acre plot, isolated from any legitimate form of community greater than mass on Sunday or Uncle Ned babysitting on date night is a very modern sickness that begs for a cure.
Child abuse very rarely comes in the form of some snaggle-toothed drifter in a rusty white panel van on the edge of town. One-third of all recorded child sex abuse cases involve a family member and another 59% involve a close family acquaintance. However, it is also widely accepted among those who study such abuse that the massive majority of the abused never tell another living soul and we know from those who have that one of the main reasons they didn't tell sooner is the fear of being isolated from an already socioeconomically isolated family.
We also know that multiple studies have shown us that Queer kids who don't fit into the suburban nuclear ideal, especially trans kids, are far more likely to be the victims of sexual abuse. In cases like the Catholic Church, these statistics become something of a macabre cottage industry. In a sense, western society has affectively turned compulsory conformity into a vehicle for sexual trafficking. Well, enough is enough.
The more radical fragments of the Queer community have the right idea. We are recreating our own version of the traditional tribal village with multi-household, multi-generational, found families in which kids have the choice between a dozen elders for advice and overworked and under-fucked couples have the option of taking on a third or a fourth partner to share the burden. Where children aren't just raised by entire communities but are afforded the ability to participate in them as equals. Where every loose Uncle Ned has at least six genderqueer aunties to answer to. That is what truly conservative family values look like.
With that being said, I'm an anarchist and I don't believe in enforcing my lifestyle on anyone else. So, by all means, go ahead and practice your creepy, rape-vibe, nuclear family. Just keep it the hell away from my kids.
Peace, Love, & Empathy- Nicky/CH
This post is dedicated in loving memory to Wendell Berry. Not just one of the 'good ones' but one of the best ones and a straight cis-dude who taught me how to be a rebel in the sticks.
Soundtrack: Songs that Influenced this Post
* Home by David Byrne & Brian Eno
* Victim of Love by Erasure
* Big Empty by Stone Temple Pilots
* I Kill Children by Dead Kennedys
* Floyd the Barber by Nirvana
* Cake and Sodomy by Marilyn Manson
* Minor Threat by Minor Threat
* Say Something by James
* Been a Son by Nirvana
* Chains of Love by Erasure
* Baby's on Fire by Brian Eno
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