I wonder how many people around my age feel the way I do. Now that we are adults, we see things differently, or do we? I see the way I was so careful raising my children: No Disney movies, no unsupervised sleepovers. No movies with any sexual hints, no friends’ fathers or any man alone with my girls ever; always teaching them to speak up and be open with their lives, and feelings, about who spoke to them; about everything they heard.
At the same time remembering that by 18 years old, someone or something had driven me to have sexual relationship after relationship over and over and over. What was wrong with me? My youngest asked me as I was explaining where babies come from, “Mom were you with anyone other than my dad?” I answered truthfully and reservedly, “Yes.” She asked me why and I answered, “I did not know I would have a little girl who would ask me that precious question.” I had no idea. I had no idea about a lot growing up.
I knew we were semi-famous in our church denomination’s world. My dad was an up and coming pastor – young, energetic and charismatic; an activist for the homeless; a beautiful wife and family. I didn’t know all of the people that were always in and out of our home had different plans than about Jesus. I thought what my dad did, whatever it was, was the right and good and best thing. Even when it was wrong.
We were products of the 1960’s and 70’s. A true Activist Family. At the time it seemed it was exciting and adventurous. Looking back as young as 4 years old I was afraid most of the time. Always someone coming over or something going on. My dad pastored a church in the inner-city. In our home we hosted senators and congressmen. We would have dinners for married and singles. I don’t remember many children. We were “the cool” family to know as an active part of the Civil Rights Movement marching alongside the Black community in the Bay Area. We interacted with the Black Panthers and the Hippies. In my world growing up people were either naked walking down the street high, or running to a riot to stand up for Civil Rights.
There was also always pornography. We skinny dipped as a family when I was 10 and again when I was 14. I was encouraged in relationships with my dad’s younger friends to him but 10-15 years older than me. I was not protected. I was encouraged. I really thought at 14 I was old enough, and I was responsible for my actions. This is what I was taught. It was normal, brave, and a “good” sign of the times in which I was raised. My dad took me to see Jack Nicholson’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and was given to study Adolph Huxley’s A Brave New World to devour, and told Evangelist Billy Graham could not be trusted. Who does these things to and with a child?
I was raised to believe that at 12 I was an adult and responsible for my actions. When you do that rather than protect her, you raise a daughter at a very young age to go after men. Sexualization was everywhere in my life. My dad treated me like an adult but with sex as the main topic: conversations about who at church was sleeping with whom, and, how to find out your sexual identity yourself through whatever means.
It’s only been in the last 5 years that I learned I was too young. If you were to ask me if my kids were too young to learn at the same age as I was all I was taught, I would say, “Yes, definitely.” It’s that I was raised differently and believed I had been old enough. It took the sexualization of our youth today for me to realize, “Wait a minute, these are children. I was a child. Nobody around me stopped or said anything.”
Now we can.
Submitted by JR.