Re-Education of the Relational Self: Siblings (Part 1)

Siblings and The Patriarchy

I was talking with my one of my sisters, Shara, the other day about familial relationships. I guess wondering about the effect of trauma on family dynamics isn't just a "me" thing. Certainly, ever family has their own system of politics and flavor of dysfunction. The generational trauma that my father experienced and then enacted within our family created quite a few unhealthy ideas of boundaries, expectations, relatedness among the siblings. The older siblings were parentified and received far more physical abuse than did the younger ones; I remember hearing pretty often that I (as one of the younger ones) had it so much easier than they did. All of us are ridiculously hard on ourselves.

Now that we're all adults, we all get along pretty well most of the time, but I wonder at how happy we all are. I've noticed that during one-on-one conversations, we tend to make ourselves feel better by gossiping and comparing different aspects of our lives to that of our other siblings. No harm is meant, but it's an indication of insecurity. Like most people, we are all looking for fulfillment and feeling connected, but the hard work of rewriting the scripts we were given is never done. Until each of us begins to find peace, empowerment, and balance within ourselves, we will continue to look for it in institutions such as religion or higher education, vicarious living, or damaging relationships where we rank the value of another person higher or lower than our own.   

Amy is the oldest sibling, but Shara, despite being the second-born, is (functionally) the eldest. Jonathan came next, and my dad was thrilled to have a son. Two years later, Anne arrived as the baby of the family. Steeped in the ultra-conservative, cult-like movement of Bill Gothard and ATI (Advanced Training Institute), our father decided that he needed more children to prove his dedication to a godly life. So, when Anne was 8 years old, my mom had Christin, then me, then David, then Rachel, about two years apart each. You would think our house would have been insanely chaotic with all those children running around. But the rod was not spared and we dared not provoke it; my father ruled with an iron fist. I've toyed around with the idea of asking everyone to collaborate on writing a book; every time we have conversations about this topic, its fascinating to hear how we have such varied perspectives on essentially the same childhood. 

You can read a Huffpost article about it here and another on allegations against the founder here. My older siblings attended the institute at one point or another, and some are part of a Facebook group for other students of the institute. 

The embedding of the patriarchy (hithertofor "the big P") into our psyches manifested itself most prominently in the roles we all took on as we grew up. We girls were being raised to be just like Mom: good, Christian mothers and wives whose only aspiration in life was to bring glory to God as someone's dutiful, blushing bride, just as the Church is the bride of Christ. The boys were, naturally, going to be the providers and bread-winners, so they were allowed to seek out fulfilling jobs and other adventures. It's hard for me to tell if their difficulty with emotional expression and selfishness has more to do with our family trauma or with the big P. From what I can tell, the boys were able to express masculinity only in ways that were non-threatening to my father's fragile ego. I think even my idea of what healthy selfishness looks like is skewed because of how it was accepted in unhealthy forms in our family. 

Amy

Amy (16 years older than me) was particularly good with and protective of Rachel, who happened to be one of my father's particularly favorite targets. I don't remember much else about her when she was at home other than she somehow managed to have friends and get me in trouble every once in awhile; her sense of humor is that of a juvenile boy, and she continues to instill a good dose of weird into our family functions. I know she was brought up to be a wife and mother, just like all of us girls were; she took on a lot of the background tasks of meal prep, laundry, and keeping house. I've never gotten the impression that she wanted much else out of life than the comfort of family life and seems to have a solid sense of identity in this. 

I am guilty of looking down on her - of thinking I'm better than her - for her seeming lack of ambition, creativity, or ability to improve her well-being; unfortunately, that's my own projection of discontent and lack of understanding that people who want a simpler life shouldn't be characterized as incapable. I have been unkind to her, not overtly, but by neglecting to do any work to understand her and connect with her. Out of all my siblings, I have the most difficulty relating to and engaging with her. I know she must feel it, but she has never confronted me on this; she may have grasped kindness and acceptance more than I have. Maybe it's too simplistic of a view, but if she's happy with her life, I have no quarrels with it; however, I wonder if she has done what I have worked very hard to stay away from: falling asleep to one's self, desires, and needs.

Shara

I was only 4 when Shara left for college as a pre-med student, a purposeful attempt at sidestepping the domesticated life. Due to a severe back injury, she wasn't able to finish and married soon after that. My relationship with her blossomed once she started having children (I was 7 years old when her oldest was born); Christin and I would babysit when she needed a break. Truth be told, my presence probably added more stress to the situation than anything, but she taught me the basics of cooking and childcare, plus it provided a welcome escape from my home. I knew she must understand what I was going through, but I don't remember talking about it until I was a teenager. We had all learned the lesson of staying quiet and not speaking out against authority, even with each other. 

Shara has always been a dutiful wife and mother, a wonder woman of sorts, giving up her own dreams to do what was needed. Unsurprisingly, she is amazing at this because her aspirations for excellence and beauty on a budget are unmatched. She is a brilliant artist, musician, and painter. Her kitchen produces creative, nutritious, and delicious meals and treats; she keeps an immaculate household, as well as vegetable and herb gardens. At one point, she had trained so hard that she ran several races and obstacle courses such as Prairie Fire Marathon and Conquer the Gauntlet. When the kids were in school, she managed three different schedules of lessons, recitals, homework, and sporting events with ease, all while helping her husband grow his business. No one could doubt her dedication to her husband and children. I know she loves her family dearly, AND I can sense that she feels trapped, not because she would ever want to abandon her family or didn't find fulfillment in her role there, but because there was so much more she had wanted to do with her talents and intellect. Now that all of her children are out of high school, I can see the longing for more pushing her toward a transformation. 

Jonathan

I wrote about Jon here, but people have been telling him for years that he needed to write his story. I will say that our family has always put him on a pedestal, which is unfair, both to him and to his family. As the oldest male, I think there were times when he became a surrogate husband to my mom as she dealt with the trauma of her own husband. When it was all said and done, Jon was the one who became the catalyst for our father's exit from our lives, and with that came unexpected responsibility. He was more than a big brother to us; he was the idealized father, the savior, the one who ended our suffering. Certainly, he was expected to care about everyone in the family simply because they were his blood and not because they had done anything more to acquire his loyalty or love. When he did not fulfill the expectations of our family, he was quietly labeled as "selfish". It's taken years and several moves, but I think he has finally extricated himself from the heavy role of the imagined head of the family. 

Anne

Anne was the free-spirited one who resented being encumbered by the burden of caring for her younger siblings. I actually didn't know that until more recent years because all I remember of her is the care-free sister who took us for picnics in the woods for story-telling. The way she was talked of in our family was the one with stars in her eyes and her head in the clouds, assumed less capable because she wanted "more than this provincial life". This probably drove her to isolate more into herself, her books, her music, her travel. She found refuge in the arms of a handsome foreigner who quickly established himself as a god in her sphere because he was not like the type of man our father was; he was mysterious and independent. The day before they married, it became clear that he was certainly more like our father than she had dreamed, but this was what was expected of her! She spent the next 15 years in a nightmare. 

Out of my older siblings, I think I would say Anne is the happiest now. She became empowered to leave an abusive marriage where she was little more than a slave. As she healed, she had to challenge the old ways of thinking, the patterns of behavior that reinforced the idea that she would inevitably have to bow to the wants and needs of another. She is still a wife and mother, but her identity is not wrapped up in these facts about her. She did the painful, ugly work of finding herself, confronting the lies she had believed about herself, and redefining what it meant to be a woman of substance and ability outside of the constraints that had been placed upon her. From the outside looking in, I believe her yoga practice has been the single most transforming element of her new life. Her independence and vigor for life, knowledge, and connection radiates from her, bringing those around her to a higher vibrational level. She found a true partner that loves her dearly and unquestioningly - a partner who sees himself as equal to her and lifts her up, helping her continue to see that beauty within. 

So what?

What would need to happen in society or internally for both men and women to unhook the pressures of the patriarchy and realize the potential for a more harmonious and egalitarian world? What if we believed that our minds and bodies were our own and it is our responsibility to discern with whom we share our energy, instead of allowing institutions to dictate those "shoulds"? How could we help each other achieve our potential based upon our strengths and natural talents instead of an outdated biological imperative for men to rule over women. How much more could we learn from each other if we didn't assume men are lying dogs who are bad at emotions and that women are hysterically ruled by their lady hormones? How could we decrease the all kinds of trauma with the knowledge that we are whole without another person AND the understanding that community and connection is imperative for health?

We would first have to be taught our inherent value, not for what we can give or provide others, but for the beauty that shines through when we're doing nothing at all.  Someone would need to model a healthy self-relationship and demonstrate a belief in appreciation for differences. We would need to understand how to manifest and own our power without subjugating others. We would have to believe that we have good ideas, and our skills are wanted, nay needed, to help the world realize its evolutionary and revolutionary potential. We would believe that putting one gender over the other to rule, even in domestic matters, is a harmful, slippery slope. We would demand to be compensated in relation to the value we add to our fields and circles, but we would understand that there are many forms of capital with which we are paid. All interactions are transactional, but how often are they fair trade? We have allowed ourselves to be pushed toward narratives that benefit the big P and not the masses. 

My next steps are working toward increased self-knowledge so I can give embodied an "yes" and a compassionate "no". I want to erect helpful boundaries that keep me safe but also provide the freedom of a gate. I want to know what is me and what is not me, good or bad. I want my nieces and nephews to look at my life and see someone living with grace, intention, peace, clarity, responsibility, and generosity. My life is my own. No one else can make my decision for me; it doesn't work - I've tried. Fighting the big P is hard because it can be so subtle and permeates all of life. But I want to be proud of the person I am, the life I create, and the people I connect with. I'm so thankful for my siblings who have been examples to me for a variety of things AND I hope they join me in continuing to live a life where we recognize the freedom and abundance we already have. I hope we become super-badass and enlightened and full of life, seeking always to improve and being kind to ourselves when we falter.

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