Raised in Hypocrisy

She says she only ever raised us right. She did everything she could. I just never listened. I couldn’t understand, couldn’t conform to perfection.

We raised you right. You chose to make the decisions you made. We did it the right way. I nod in agreement. It’s easier that way.

You talked about your youth. You went to dances. Guys that didn’t look like you asked you to dance. You said they got upset when you said no. They asked if it was because they didn’t look like you. How outlandish! You thought that was preposterous. Perhaps when something hits too close to home…

You drag the kids to church, kids too young to know what’s going on. You use religion as a weapon. You can do no wrong. And if you do, who cares? You confess, and all is forgiven. This is your world.

I go to church. I sit, stand, and kneel. I do all this before I know what it’s all about because I have no choice. There is no choice. This is what I have to do.

I am baptized. I receive First Communion. What does it mean?

Then you sent us to Sunday school because that’s what we’re supposed to do. It was our destiny. And if not our destiny, well, of course, we have to keep up appearances.

The teacher asked a question, to divide ourselves on two sides of the room. She asked if it’s okay for two people of the same sex to love each other. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where love could be wrong. I think only one other student stood with me, the rest on the other side of the room. I was so confused. Isn’t life about love? Isn’t religion about love? What did I miss in class? Am I wrong about everything?

The teacher pulled my mom aside later to let her know my “sinful” thoughts. I embarrassed her. I shamed my family. She despised me for the humiliation. Perhaps, it began that day. I think it began long before that. However, that day still lives in infamy. How I disappointed her!

She made my dad beat us with the thin black belt , when she was in a more rational mind, and the thick white one, when she favored the sadistic. And, oh, was it a beating. Imagine a 40+ year old man railing on kids barely in their double digits with my mom cheering him on. What a happy marriage they must’ve had! Maybe those were good times for them.

So I’m left frustrated and confused. If I kneel, sit, stand on command, if I confess my sins, does that make me holy? Does that mean I’ll go to heaven? I hear other people in the congregation casting judgment, condemning others. But some of those they mention are kind, people who have shown much more kindness than those who are condemning them, those that are judging them. There’s an inner conflict I can’t explain.

I’m supposed to condemn wrong love, and only right love is okay. Well, who gets to decide what the right love is? I’m punished for even asking. I should know what’s right and wrong. I’ve been raised to know what’s right and wrong. Those who raised me have taught me right and wrong. They’ve taught me the right way, but I am too selfish, too uneducated, too stupid to do things the right way. She always taught me the right way, and I was the one who walked the wayward path.

And when I mention us every now and then, I use that term loosely because my older brother learned early on to conform and obey. He lived by the code. He didn’t fight even when it came to things he didn’t believe in. He counted the days until college and got the fuck out. He started anew and never looked back, never came home to this day, over 20 years later. I don’t blame him. Who wouldn’t run from here?

Of course, he got all the perks that come with staying in line, the college education paid for, a head start on securing that life some only dream of. I suppose maybe there’s something to be said for those who fall in line.

So in the long run, when all is said and done, at the end of the day, what path does one choose? I’d like to think it’s about being true to yourself, standing up for what you believe in regardless of what others say is right. I’d like to believe that builds character, that it separates the weak and the strong. I want to believe that it matters.

Then again, he remained silent. He didn’t actually believe anything he was taught. He stayed silent until he ran for the hills. But it worked. He came out on top.

Perhaps, I had it all wrong…