in sterquiliniis invenitur

Before science was alchemy: a combination of religious, philosophical, and pseudo-scientific ideas. Although “archaic” by our standards, these thinkers were the brilliant minds of their time, and their work made way for true science. According to Jordan Peterson, one of their key dictums was in sterquiliniis invenitur. Peterson liked to interpret that phrase as, “what you most need will be located in the place that you least want to look.” But for my purposes, I like the literal: “in filth it shall be found.”

Yes, in filth it shall be found.

I am on a journey, and I cannot totally control my trajectory. I just know what the next step is, and which rock to look under next. Some places scare me: some intrigue me. Some disgust me. My recent post on “Girlie” disturbed me greatly. It got me thinking in a very uncomfortable direction. Very, very uncomfortable. Will I publish these words? I do not know.

But I need to take this journey. Pubishing is a separate issue. I need to know the truth. I need to know. At least, I need to know enough to know where the masters lie, and where the path to freedom.

And so let us go there. Into the darkness, and the disgust. Let’s talk about that which I loathe to think about: my dad’s sexual thoughts. 

**

A few months ago, I wrote a journal article about how my dad raised us to think of girls as “gross,” but also…kind of sexy. It is was a difficult post to write. Strange to think about. Off. Just…off. But that is how I was raised. 

Any mention of sex was strictly forbidden in our home. We were never taught about anatomy. Our sex ed consisted of mom coming into our room one day, playing a tape by James Dobson describing sex in all its details, and leaving. We had to figure the rest out for ourselves. And we did: we discovered internet pornography, and looked at it incessantly on the family computer, located in the office with a door. This battle with porn (and the resulting dissonance between my faith and my “addiction”) became the most painful part of my teenage years, and lasted into my 20’s, where it harmed my marriage. This is, perhaps, a different topic.

What I wanted to mention about this is that in the midst of all of this turmoil, when I think of my dad, I think of…nothing. Just…nothing. I never sensed him ever being attracted sexually to any woman. Now, that may not seem strange because a) he should have been attracted to his wife, not other women, and b) I’m his son, so why would I want to notice that? But here’s the thing: I was groomed to have a strong ability to read the emotions and body language of others. Also, I was trained to focus my attention on my father and mother, in order to meet their needs (see “emotional incest,” and “stockholm syndrome”). So…if there was something there, it seems like…I would have noticed. 

Through the drama “ministry” that we did for several years, we often took trips with teenage girls. I never saw him notice them in that way. We often watched movies. This was confusing. Because when we watched a movie with “scenes” in it, he would laugh along, and/or seemingly enjoy the scene. But afterwards, he would scowl and say, “that was a terrible movie!” Sometimes, he would give us a lecture about it: how we should have done better selecting our movies. It was confusing because…it’s not like he was uncomfortable during the movie. Although if a scene became too graphic he would turn it off. But he did not seem overly bothered by crude humour (something I could never stand, as soon as I was old enough to understand it). 

Of course, we often had other women over to the house (company, I mean) or met women in church. I never detected a lewd look. I have seen other men making them, and at that time, I certainly was making a lot of looks of my own. (I do not carry shame for that, because it was forgiven, I have forgiven myself, and it lies truly in the past) But from my dad? …nothing.

As I was struggling, I read the book, “Every Man’s Battle.” It seemed to hold the answers to my terrible battle. I left the book on my dad’s desk, thinking that if I were struggling, he must struggle as well. He awkwardly said, “Yeah, so I saw this book…” I said I liked it, and hoped he would as well. “OK, well, you left it here so…I guess I have to like it…” He tried to force a smile. It was like he was holding an assembly manual for a machine he would never ever want to build. What am I going to do with this? “OK, well, thanks…” The memory capture ends there.

***

I think the key thing that got me thinking in this direction was thinking of Girlie.

Girlie

My thoughts started in this direction because of what I wrote about “Girlie.” This is an impish, girl-like persona that my mom pulls out at times. Truly, my mom had a very tragic childhood. She was emotionally neglected, and physically and sexually abused. It is a sad story. Her childhood was abysmal. And, apparently, a part of her is still “stuck” there. She does not (as far as I can tell) have full-fledged personality disorder: but at times, she can definitely evoke that persona. I have given it a name, to help me clarify this strategy: that is my mom playing “Girlie.” 

Now, what I found odd…and more than a little disturbing…is that, as I think about it just about every moment that I saw my dad show my mom affection, it was towards this persona. I think that is correct. My mom (like any woman, I suppose) had many personas, and many faces she would wear. At times, she could be a “momma-bear,” at times, a professional woman. At times, a homemaker and housewife. At times (rare times) she rolled up her sleeves and worked in the yard. At times she was very ill. At times, she was a writer, focused and out of sight at her desk. We all have many faces. 

…but the only face that I ever saw my dad show love to was the “Girlie” face. 

I can see the scenario play out so clearly because it played out so often. My mom’s face would flush, her voice would go up a semi-tone, and her posture would change…shoulders slouching in slightly, knees bending inwards slightly, head tilting down, and to the right, looking up at dad through her eyebrows…a classic “submission” posture, but with doe-eyes locked on the authority figure. Often, her eyes would get misty. One of them would say something over-the-top cliché, like it was written in a harlequin romance. Or she would say something pathetic and desperate, “I just need…” or “I just want…” Her voice would trail off like a sad child looking for comfort. I am trying to think of my dad in this scenario, but it is clearly my mom taking up most of the memory. Sometimes, her display would not capture him. But sometimes it would. He would usually give in and give her what she wanted. Sometimes, he would turn away and she would be crushed. Sometimes (fairly often) he would initiate, and she would fall into the “girlie” persona, and they would make a big show of “kissy-lips!” in front of the kids. (We were expected to do our part and close our eyes and say, “oh, gross!” …and there was something gross and “off” about it.) 

As I think of my wife (and it pains me to bring our relationship into this, but that is my only standard of what is normal), I think of how she is a woman of many faces as well. She can be strong, she can show me weakness, she is a mother, she is a career woman, she is a woman of faith, she is a woman who can put you in your place, and has a temper, and (in carefully selected situations) can let fly with some carefully-chosen profanity. I love all of her. All of it. No, not every one of her “faces” draws me in romantically. Life would be unbearably complicated if it did. But there is not one persona that I force her to repeatedly play, in order to gain my affection. How she is is how she is, and how she presents herself to me is what I accept, and the one to whom I respond. 

But dad trained mom to be girlie. I think that this is right. I think that he found (intuitively/subconsciously) found someone who could play the “little girl” routine inside. Because somehow, that seemed “right” for him. He got what he needed from her. And so that’s who he chose, and whom he married. And that is the persona that he continues to encourage. 

***

He trained other women to be “girlie” as well. This truth came from within as I thought about him. I knew that this was true, before I could think of examples. “What do you mean he trained other women to be like this?” I asked myself. Some examples came to the surface, but specifics are hard to find.

Dad was always saying things like, “Girls are…” or “Boys are…” Trying to make those sorts of hard-and-fast comparisons. Sometimes, his “insights” would come from Scriptures (read through a fairly chauvinistic lens). Sometimes, from observation and life experience. He would sometimes make jokes, but more often it was shared with his children/family as a kind of “insight.” This is how women are. The descriptions were rarely flattering. Women are submissive, overly emotional, their bodily functions are gross and one aught not discuss them (this was implied, not said), they need a strong man to lead and protect them or else they are hopeless, etc.

These patterns were re-enforced in his favourite books, the original Hardy Boy’s series. I tried to read these with my own kids, but was shocked, and offended by the portrayal of women in them. The women in the books were meek, submissive, air-headed, and physically attractive. Perfect. Ugh. The girlfriends and wives of the men were often referred to collectively as “the women.” They spent their time cooking and mending things, unless they were needed as decoys, or needed to be rescued. If called upon, they would do exactly what the menfolk deemed to be best.

One could say that this way of thinking is outdated: simply part of a bygone era. That is true. However, the fact that many people once thought this does not mean that it is right. Many today are carried away by hyper-feminism, and I (personally) believe that there are serious flaws in an over-emphasis on either side of the spectrum. As I think about this, I think of some disturbing adds I saw once. 

One cigarette add I saw had a woman lying on the floor, with a man smoking a cigarette, with his feet propped on her head. The caption read, “Keep women where they belong.” How offensive! I could not find that picture, but a quick google-search found a number of similar adds, from the same time-period. 

The theme is similar: seeing women as inferior, incompetent, and totally submissive to men. It is not difficult to imagine a sexual component to this. That is not a road that I want to walk down far, but one could see how there could be a link.

…and so there were problems. Perhaps these problems were more common half a century ago: but in his religious and fundamentalist brain, he held on to some of them. And he found verses to re-enforce that “this is how women are,” and “this is how men are.” 

How, then, did he try to turn other women into girlie?

In our drama trips, he would often find himself in a position of giving Bible-lessons. For a while, he was the youth leader in our church. I remember once he chose to speak on 1 Peter 3:7, “You husbands in the same way, live with your wives in an understanding way, as with someone weaker, since she is a woman:  and show her honor as a fellow heir of the grace of life, so that your prayers will not be hindered.…” Rather than putting the emphasis on the second half of the verse, which speaks of honouring a woman, he chose to emphasize the word “weaker,” asking students to list ways that women are weaker than men. 

I feel like he often had conversations with the young girls in the group, about what it meant to be a woman. But I can’t remember specifics: perhaps because these conversations happened in private somewhere. 

He would very often make statements about “women are like…” and I found myself parroting them. More than once, I found myself getting shut down by women in our youth-group or at my High-School, and later by my wife. “No, I’m not like that!” And no, women are not like that. 

In 2014, my parents sent a letter and gifts to my children. That was the first time that we did not give them everything, and when we started filtering the gifts. They sent the boys tattoos, and “secret messages.” “Don’t show these tattoos to your mom. She will probably flip! This is for you…but not for your sister. I’m sure you think your sister is gross and icky, and only boys get tattoos, not girls…” For my girl, there was something very feminine and “girlie,” like a bow or a pink hair tie. I can’t remember. 

We were like…”what is this?!” It was all written like a joke, with their faces printed into the letter, smiling and making exaggerated happy faces at the kids. But…sending messages of distorted ideas about gender, and trying to make a direct link to my kids, bypassing their mother and I, and telling them that their sister was “gross”? Wow, no wonder I didn’t read that letter to my kids…although I had guilt for weeks for throwing it out.

**

All of this leads me in a difficult direction. Difficult, and disturbing. A few possibilities present themselves. I don’t want to look here, but I am going to keep lifting this rock until the sun and wind can dry out the mildew, and let the stink be cleansed by the light of exposure and honesty. What are we looking at here?

1. It is possible that dad is a pedophile, and only attracted to young girls. Thus, he tries to put pressure on my mom, and on other women he finds under his power, to become as girlie as possible, because that’s how he likes them to be.
2. It is possible that he is only attracted to extremely submissive women. Perhaps this is different from point #1? Or maybe it is not…
3. It is also possible that he is simply very caught up in older views of gender. If so, he has views which are extreme, even for the time, and which seem to have slid in a “dirty” direction.
4. It is also possible (and I cannot rule this option out…I have no evidence that it is true, but also no evidence that it is not true…) that dad is truly a pedophile, that he only responds to mom when she pretends to be a little girl, and that he has sought out little girls to abuse, and will do so again. Perhaps (such a thing has been reported, and happens all the time) mom even is so wrapped up in pleasing him that she not only tolerates but helps him in this criminal activity. They live in an ethic community where (if we are honest) incest is more common (or at least less hidden) than in the general population. And they travel a lot, and spend the summers in undisclosed locations all over Canada and the States. 

…I cannot help it. I need to look at this possibility further…