January 20, 2007
Dear Mom and Dad,
I have been thinking a lot about the long email I received from Mom about a month ago, and the letter I received from Dad last week. I’ve been wanting to respond to some of the questions you have posed. I realize that both of you are probably still processing your own feelings of initial shock and sadness and confusion. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say that would help you feel better, more comfortable, more hopeful; it may be that this letter will strike you as something I’ve written for myself rather than for you, and I guess that’s at least partly true. Yes, I’m writing because I feel the need to tell you something about me, about my thoughts and feelings, but ultimately this desire to communicate with you has its roots in my love for both of you. Thank you for reaching out to me and telling me about your feelings. It wasn’t easy to read either of your letters, but I understand that you wrote because you care about me. I really appreciate your willingness to keep the lines of communication open despite how distraught you are, and I hope that what I have to say here will help facilitate further dialogue -- so please accept in advance my apology for anything I may say badly, or too stridently, okay? Let me know what you need from me, and I will do my best to help in whatever way I can, provided that you don’t ask me to become a different person for you.
There are some recurring themes I see threaded throughout our conversations and letters that I’d like to explore. I’ve grouped these into four questions that both of you seem to keep asking, either implicitly or explicitly.
Q1) Why on earth would you choose this kind of a life for yourself?
There are two answers to Q1 -- one’s short (“Why not?”) and the other is really long (I intend to write a book addressing this very question). Lest you think I am being flip with the short answer, I want to clarify: it’s not that I can’t think of any reasons why not, merely that I can’t think of any reasons why not that I haven’t yet considered and rejected, or considered and addressed to my own satisfaction.
I get the distinct impression that you don’t really want to hear the answer to this question, that you ask it rhetorically, because you are already convinced that I couldn’t possibly have good reasons for certain objectionable features of the life I’ve chosen (and let me throw out there that you seem to have a very skewed impression of what my life is actually like). If you really want to know the answers, then you have to be willing to listen to what I have to say -- and I’m not at all sure you have any desire to listen to me. So for right now, I’ll limit my response & just assure you that I feel good about the person I am, and I feel good about the life I am leading. You’re just going to have to trust me on this one. However, I can’t imagine that you will trust me -- it seems more likely that you’ll conclude that I’m crazy or brainwashed or terribly deluded. And I can’t stop you. You’re free to believe what you like. But while I can’t speak for others, I know the truth about myself, and can rest secure in this self-knowledge.
I do feel compelled to address, at greater length, some assumptions that seem to be lurking behind your rhetorical question, so bear with me while I catalogue these:
1. Nothing good can come of this. Well, from my point of view, no statement could be more patently untrue. The gifts, benefits, and opportunities for growth have been amazing; I find myself feeling overwhelmed with gratitude on a regular basis. I would really enjoy talking more about these gifts with you, if you are interested.
2. My marriage is doomed. [Parker] and I have the strongest and most mutually fulfilling relationship of anyone I know who has been together as long as we have; we are that very rare “happy couple.” And I don’t have to worry that his meeting someone else fantastic, or my meeting someone else fantastic, is going to negatively disrupt what we have together. I feel completely secure and comfortable in our marriage. My sense is that we get closer to each other with every passing year, and that only I appreciate him more as time goes on. I know that I married the right person. I have no regrets about marrying him -- not a single one. I never worry that if something doesn’t change, I won’t be happy with him, because I can accept him exactly as he is. On the other hand, I have no fear that if he changes, our relationship will change for the worse, because I trust that he, like me, is committed to self-improvement -- both by increasing self-knowledge & by developing greater understanding of and compassion for others. How many people can say this of their marriage? And of those who do say it, how many will find in ten, twenty, thirty years that their confidence was unfounded -- that they didn’t really know the person they married? [Parker] and I know each other, really and truly, and we still love each other. If you want to think our marriage is doomed in spite of my passionate belief that it isn’t, and in spite of all the evidence on my side (most notably all the years we’ve already been happy together), go for it. I guess I can only hope for some kind of opportunity to say, when he and I have made it to the very end of life (if there is an end) without having split up, “I told you so.”
3. An “open” marriage is clearly inferior to a monogamous one. Whoa, show me the evidence! This certainly doesn’t jive with my experience. And you have no idea how many people I have talked to about their frustrations with their significant other(s) and/or the dynamics of their relationship(s). Sooner or later, it seems, everyone tells me some kind of story -- about their illicit affair, about the fact that they are always obsessing over someone other than their spouse, or about the agreements they have made to “don’t ask, don’t tell.” (If you haven’t heard such stories from people you know, perhaps it is because they worry about you passing judgment on them if they told you, not because it isn’t happening.) How come so many couples seem to be either miserable and monogamous, or miserable and only pretending to be monogamous? Again, I could go into a long list of all the “pros” to the kind of arrangement [Parker] and I have, but it’s kind of pointless -- after all, I’m not trying to convince you that monogamy is bad. I’m merely pointing out that the assumption that monogamy is superior is nonsense as far as I’m concerned. Let’s leave it at this, then: monogamy is neither intrinsically good nor intrinsically bad. By extension, I believe, non-monogamy is neither intrinsically good nor intrinsically bad.
4. This is bad for [Denali] (and for kids in general). Do you have any evidence for this claim? Or are you just assuming that anything generally of concern that you might have noticed about [Denali] and his behavior is obviously a result of his parents’ open marriage because it is obviously the case that atypical familial structures are terrible for the children involved? Back when you had no reason to question our marriage, you didn’t seem unduly concerned about [Denali's] well-being; you weren’t cataloguing symptoms that distressed you, or noting signs that something was terribly wrong, were you? No doubt you are retroactively going back and assigning great significance to any misgivings you might have entertained over the years, but is this really fair? I know that it might be difficult to grow up in a situation that defies a cultural norm, to have a sense that one is “different” from one’s peers, or that one’s parents are not like other people’s parents, but this is hardly sufficient reason us to fall in line with the lowest common denominator: no one would suggest that “fitting in” should dictate all our decisions about how to live our lives. I know you both have stood by your religious beliefs even when you’ve found yourself among people who considered them exceedingly strange. Anyway, if you are really worried that [Denali] is suffering on account of his parents’ atypical marriage, I’d suggest that you talk to [Denali] about it. Also, if you have specific concerns about [Denali], I would like to know what they are so that I can try to address them.
5. This is bad for me (and people in general). I am the world’s foremost authority on myself, and I am telling you that this isn’t bad for me. It’s good for me. If you want to insist that you know me better than I know myself (while at the same time shaking your head and saying you just don’t understand me at all!), then go for it. We’re at an impasse. As for “people in general”: I’ve seen all kinds of ways in which open marriage/non-monogamy/non-traditional family structures can be “bad” for people; I’ve also seen all kinds of ways in which people have benefited enormously from choosing the type of relationship structure that works for them, rather than putting up with the discomfort of a socially-constructed one-size-fits-all container just because they couldn’t be bothered to think about alternatives, or just because they didn’t have the guts to live they way they felt was right, or just because society’s approval was more important to them than their own happiness.
6. A lifestyle on the “fringe” is bad/scary/wrong/not acceptable; a more “mainstream” life is good/right/acceptable. This particular assumption cracks me up, because it flies in the face of your own beliefs in so many ways. If being on the “fringe” was an admirable thing for our pioneer ancestors, how has going along with the crowd suddenly become what you want for your daughter? I think we can agree that there is nothing intrinsically bad about “fringe” or good about “mainstream.” I’ll go further & say that I think it’s a terrible mistake to judge something as good or bad based on how common it is, how familiar it seems to us. Much-needed social change can only come about because people are willing, occasionally, to challenge the accepted way of doing things.
Q2) How did you get to be the way you are? Did we go wrong as parents? Did we teach you “something that makes you feel your behavior is justified or even necessary”? Alternatively, did [Parker] (and/or other influences in your life) brainwash you/take over your personality?
The related assumption here might go something like this: Because we don’t recognize you, you are either not the person we raised you to be (in which case someone else is responsible for the person you’ve become) or you are the person we raised you to be (in which case we made some kind of grievous error, because the result is so far from what we intended).
Ultimately, I am responsible for myself -- you can’t blame anyone else. Were you hoping that I would provide confirmation that your mistakes, whatever you think these may be, have caused me to become someone you don’t approve of -- as if I am your punishment? I hate to break it to you, but this is not all about you. (By the way, let me just say that it makes me angry to hear this crap about how you must have failed as parents, because I look at the result and see success [because of your parental successes and despite your parental failings] -- and I find it ironic that any complaint of mine adds fuel to the fire, whereas every reassurance I can offer you will be rejected on account of the fact that I’m not to be trusted. So which is it? Can my complaints be credible if my compliments are going to be dismissed?)
There are probably things I learned from you that pushed me in this direction. On the positive side, you taught me to value intelligence, to ask questions, to want to be unique and interesting -- that it was good to “be my own person,” to be introspective, to communicate, to value other people and their perspectives, to strive for compassion and empathy even when others had different beliefs, to recognize and fight against injustice and unfairness. You taught me that it is okay to be different. You taught me that women are just as important and capable as men. You instilled in me a confidence about and a respect for my own body & concern for my physical health -- unlike many of my peers, for example, I never dealt with an eating disorder. You loved me and accepted me and were often proud of me; the self-esteem you helped nourish in my early childhood sustained me through the harder times we had when I entered adolescence. I think you were both, in many ways, wonderful parents, and I want to thank you for all you taught me. I’m sorry if my gratitude for the gifts you gave me devalues them in your eyes. On the negative side, your own lives were not always inspiring examples of the benefits of “toeing the line.” You didn’t seem happy, either of you. You didn’t have many adult friends, and this made me feel that there was something wrong with the traditional nuclear family -- that it was stifling, isolating. You exacerbated my need for others’ approval -- I always felt I had to prove something, and once it was clear I couldn’t win your approval anymore (because you fought me all through adolescence), I looked elsewhere for it. Your discomfort around the whole subject of sexuality wasn’t healthy. I spent my teenage years wrapped in fascination and repression, and I didn’t feel that I could talk to either of you about any of the desires that I was experiencing. You also gave me contradictory messages about whether I should think for myself or do what I was told without question -- and this may have been because you didn’t know how to reconcile some of your own private beliefs with your religion’s “official” position. The problems you both encountered while internalizing this kind of conflict in your own lives no doubt made a subconscious impression on me.
Just to give you one relevant example of something one of you struggled with: I was so upset by the whole polygamy thing -- partly because Mom was made so uncomfortable by that passage in Church history -- that I remember once telling [Jack, my high school boyfriend] that if polygamy were really the celestial order of things, then the church wasn’t true. I said, “If monogamy isn’t practiced in heaven, it had better be because people have quit being proprietary, and everyone is free to love everyone else -- because I just can’t accept that something is okay for men but not for women.” It never made sense to me how this practice, which was so upsetting to so many women, could possibly have been okay for people like Joseph Smith and Brigham Young (not to mention [my great-great grandmother's] husband) to have engaged in. I never bought any of the rationalizations I heard, and the bottom line for me was always that I could see the positives of such an arrangement ONLY if women and men were equal. (The idea of having multiple husbands first occurred to me when I first heard about polygamy; and I’d be lying if I pretended not to be secretly pleased at the thought that in some way I’m making up for injustices my female Mormon ancestors endured because my life is testament to the fact that I, a woman, also have the right to multiple simultaneous partners -- but this is, I acknowledge, a childish kind of triumph, and nothing like a justification for my behavior; reaction is a poor substitute for mindful action.) In short, the patriarchal aspects of the religion you bequeathed to me just didn’t make sense alongside other messages you instilled -- messages about women’s inherent equality that the larger culture also echoed. I guess you could have done a better job of teaching me not to mind injustice?
Anyway, after hearing from Mom that I just don’t seem to be the person you raised, I went looking through my old journals for evidence of myself. The following excerpts might help elucidate a few things -- I’ll let my former self speak on her own behalf for a little while:
(Age 13 or 14) I think sometimes I shie away from doing what I should because of H. I really admire her in some ways she’s so good & sweet etc, but she doesn’t seem creative at all, and I am reluctant to be like everyone else. She has a “Molly Mormon” type of attitude -- and I hate being “typical”. I like being my own person -- unique. But I can still be good and stay unique. I don’t have to be just like anyone. But I have to try harder. I think I’ve shunned asking God about some of my problems -- like boys -- because I don’t want to hear the answer. H keeps telling me not to go boy-crazy and she seems to be the epitome of spirituality, so I assumed you couldn’t like boys and be spiritual at the same time. I have kinda had a conceptualized image of a “good girl”. Well, I can be my own kind of good.
(Age 15) Things it would be “nice” to do are namely BE PERFECT. You know. Clean room, gorgeous hair & body while still being humble, 4.0’s, stop listening to Rock ‘n’ Roll (maybe. that’s not really “wrong”) get better in Gymnastics, be as good as a concert pianist & take up violin as well, use my artistic talent (take lessons) -- also take up ballet and keep winning in Drama. Memorize scriptures, get 800’s on SAT’s, be a peacemaker, visit the sick and afflicted, never say anything bad about anyone, and still remain an interesting person. Stop acting like what your parents think is an airhead.
(Age 15) Actually, I think I must be boy-crazy. It kind of scares me, but I don’t want to give them up because I like them so much. Maybe Blanche (Streetcar Nmd. Desire) has wormed her way into my personality and I’ve turned into a nymphomaniac. But nymphomaniacs are at least interesting. I mean, wouldn’t it just be an enriching experience for all the people who know me? To say they’d known a sex maniac? Or maybe someone whose brain had turned to Jello from too much sugar? Actually, I’m just very confused. I don’t know what I believe in or what I want. If I knew for instance, that death was IT, then I would be a totally different person.
(Age 16) Well. [Jack] wants to see some 14 yr. old named _____. Fine. But he thinks it would be two-timing to go out with both of us. I guess it’s basically off.
(Age 17) The other thing I don’t buy is what my mother has been complaining about -- the “you just seem like you’re only going to do what you WANT, [Viny]. And that’s not reality.” Well, why can’t it be reality? And why can’t I do as much of what I want as possible? The thing is, once I’ve distinguished between what I want at the moment & what I’ll want later, how the two affect each other & interact, then I can see no reason not to do what I want. I pity my parents. They don’t have fun. I don’t want to live like they do. There is something to be said for security, but not at the expense of losing opportunities and stagnating. I refuse to resign myself to that kind of a life, because it isn’t living’s full potential. I want to suck every ounce of life out of everything I can get hold of. And why not? I’ll have so much more to share that way.
(Age 17) I guess I’ve asked “Why does it have to be this way” so much that the “it doesn’t’s” have affected more than I intended. This isn’t a free-write. I’m following a logical train of thought. Probably because I figured out the problem in the first few sentences. So now what? What does it mean that now I know I’m scared? That I’m beginning to want to view things from the “highest good” perspective and I don’t know what that is? I have this tendency to think that we have a zillion rules because God knows with greater freedom comes greater responsibility and so many people aren’t capable of being held accountable for themselves. Well, responsibility frightens me. I’d almost just rather follow all the rules -- even the ones that aren’t rules -- unquestioningly so someone else is responsible for my life. But I’m not sure I can do that now or even that I’d wish to. Because how could I be dead after I’ve experienced life? Just willingly hand over my awareness to the encompassing bureaucracy of rules and logical but ridiculous procedures and orders? Things that work for the masses but not the individual? But, I don’t DISBELIEVE things just because people follow them unquestioningly. So, I have to question but remain teachable -- Oh, it’s so difficult and I’m so afraid I’ll completely screw it all up somehow. I’m only a human being, but I cannot be less now, either. If I were to regress now I couldn’t forgive myself. I’ve gotten myself into a place where I must keep going forward even though it is so frightening.
Q3) [Omitted, as it gets into personal stuff about my parents that is not my business to share without their permission]
Q4) Why did you tell us? Why did you tell us NOW? Why didn’t you spare us? What good could possibly come from telling us something we don’t want to know?
I have to admit that it’s utterly incomprehensible to me how you could both be asking this question when I thought I had made it SO CLEAR what my motivations in telling you were. I can only conclude that I failed in my attempts to communicate, or you refused to believe what I said, or the shock of the revelation caused you to forget everything I said leading up to it.
So, I’ll repeat myself. For a very long time, I wondered if I was making the right decision in keeping you in the dark about really important things going on in my life. We are NOT talking here about my private sexual life. We are talking about my life. When people start dating someone, fall in love, and end up moving to be in the vicinity of that person, or make the decision not to move on account of that person, it’s almost always the case that their family, friends, and even acquaintances are at least aware of the relationship that is exerting such an influence on every decision being made. I felt I was always having to hide from you, to omit, to change the topic, and this went against my very strong commitment to complete honesty. It especially pained me to have to worry about [Denali] innocently disclosing something to you. One example I gave Mom was the time you guys called him in Denmark to wish him a happy birthday, and [Parker] happened to be off on a architectural tour of Germany and Holland, and [Scott] happened to be visiting, and I knew you knew that [Parker] was away, and so if, in the course of relating the day’s events, [Denali] had mentioned [Scott], you would probably have wondered what he was doing there without [Parker] present. It wasn’t just my own discomfort that was the problem, either. [Parker] was never very comfortable with the fact that you guys didn’t know, and worried about what to say if ever you called while I was away for the weekend. Then, after [Helen, Parker's mother] knew the whole story, she had to feel uncomfortable about keeping something from you, too. To make matters worse, it’s not just other people in the family who’ve been unwittingly drawn into this intrigue: I’ve actually had to warn my neighbors not to say anything to you. The whole ruse was getting truly ridiculous. When [Denali] started saying things that made me think his relationship with you two was being compromised, because he didn’t feel he could “really talk to you” since you “wouldn’t approve of our lives,” I began to think it was high time to stop lying to you -- that my desire to spare you grief was not really an excuse for my own cowardice.
Several months ago, I was editing a manuscript for a therapist, and came across some mental exercise in which readers were admonished to reflect upon what they’d do if they knew that they had only one more week to live (or something along those lines). I realized that I didn’t want to die without my own parents knowing who I really am. You may think that it’s selfish to want to be remembered accurately after my death; you may not even sympathize with that desire at all. But I place great value on authenticity and truth, in all its splendor and all its ugliness. I was horrified when I learned that Mom was thinking of getting rid of her journals because they were too “negative,” just pulling out the edifying bits for posterity before she chucked them. I know I wouldn’t want some whitewashed or gilded version of myself surviving and supplanting the real me. Anyway, I realized that if I would want to tell you the truth before I died, I should be telling you the truth now.
I was in a bit of a bind, though, because I had ascertained that you two were going through some kind of a difficult time in your marriage, and I really didn’t want to add any pain to your lives. [....] It had to happen at some point, though, and for myself I am relieved to have the truth out in the open at last. I’m sorry that my feeling of relief seems to you to come at your expense. [....]
As for what good could possibly come from having told you something you didn’t want to hear, only time will tell, I guess. Both of you have lamented that there is more distance between us now, as though my having revealed the truth has actually widened the rift. As I said to Mom, I have known just how wide the rift is for a long time now. It was only an eventuality for you; it was an actuality for me. All I’ve done is cleared the fog away, shown you what was at your feet all along. I’m sorry, but I just don’t believe that ignorance is bliss. Fake bliss doesn’t count. Bliss that can be shattered by the truth doesn’t count. So, here we are: this is reality. It may look bleak to you, but I see a lot of hope here. Any gain we make now, any advance in our understanding and acceptance of each other, will be a real gain. We have a solid foundation now for re-building our relationship, if we choose to do so. And I know that I want to have a meaningful relationship with both of you, and am committed to working to make that happen. I love and care about you both. Sometimes I wish I could make you happy, but that’s something you will have to do for yourselves.
I wrote a poem in response to the email Mom sent me originally, but it’s just as applicable a response to Dad’s letter, so I will enclose it. That’s the thought I’d like to leave you with.
Much love, as always,
[Viny]
*****
Singularity
Before our common ground
gets whittled down
to we both like cinnamon,
I want to oust the mote
in my right I
long enough to see
your soul at home
waving to me
across the canyon.
Then, I want to send
a carrier pigeon
(actually, anything
that flies would do)
with the following note
tied tightly to its foot:
What if I am only
wrong on the face of it?
Consider this an invitation
into my pitted cave,
my rosy subcellular vault,
where, if you find yourself spent,
you may fall asleep
comforted in layers
of my mitochondrial warmth.
Further in, you and I
are like entangled particles
in a metaphysicist’s dream:
woven, even worlds apart,
into the same universe
when judgment is forever coming
and every love is innocent.
I'm proud to know you!
ReplyDelete