Dangerous Families, Essay Example

Dangerous Families: Queer Writing on Surviving

At the outset of this book the editor, Mattilda Sycamore, is quick to draw a distinction between the purpose and nature of this book as compared to many books that cover similar topics. As the editor asserts, “nonfiction books about childhood abuse are almost always written or edited by therapists, who tend to ignore the specifics of each survivor’s story” (Sycamore, p2). What separates this book from those the editor describes is that it is not a dry, clinical assessment of childhood abuse, but is instead a collection of specific life stories recounted by survivors of such abuse. This does not necessarily devalue the significance or relevance of books authored or edited by therapists; such books clearly have their place in terms of providing theoretical and practical insight for therapists, abuse survivors, or for those with a personal or professional interest in the field. This book is equally valuable, however, in that it offers the kinds of stories that therapists are likely to hear in their practice; at the very least it can provide an entry point for psychology students and those who intend to become therapists to begin learning how to understand and process such horrific stories, and to develop the skills that will be needed to help survivors in a therapeutic setting.

What is also immediately clear from the opening pages of this book is that Sycamore has more than a professional interest in compiling these stories; she is not just offering a therapeutic perspective, but is also a survivor of childhood abuse. Sycamore begins by recounting a small snippet from her personal journal, written in 1993 (this book was published a decade later, in 2004, so the editor was presumably fairly young when he wrote this journal entry). In this journal Sycamore describes the feeling of unrelenting horror that has followed her from childhood into adulthood; she offers no specific details about the abuse she endured, but the specificity with which she describes this horror is more than adequate to convey the lasting significance of the abuse in her life. As Sycamore writes of childhood abuse survivors (herself included, “we face families who magnify the horrors of the outside world instead of protecting us” (Sycamore, p2). Growing up in abusive families forces victims to see the world largely in the context of survival strategies, rendering the entire world a scary and forbidding place.

The stories told in this book are specifically related by queer authors. This is clearly not meant to diminish the abuse and victimization suffered by innumerable straight survivors; it simply reflects the ways that being Queer in a society that often makes such a thing already difficult can be intensified and magnified when growing up queer in an abusive family. This approach also allows readers to see both the ways that each survivor’s experience is unique and the ways in which each survivor’s story shares some fundamental aspects with those of other survivors. Such insights are especially valuable for therapists whose personal experiences, backgrounds, and sexual orientations may diverge significantly from those of the clients they hope to help.

As soon as the reader begins going through the stories contained in the book the differences between this book and the dry, clinical efforts of therapists becomes starkly apparent. In “Johnny,” author Mary Galvin graphically describes the nature of her sexual abuse at the hands of a family member. Structured as a journal, with dated entries, “Johnny” tracks the history of this childhood abuse with details and descriptions that –rather painfully- force the reader to imagine the reality of the circumstances. In one entry, as “Johnny” is forcing “Mary Ellen” to perform oral sex on him, she realizes that as he is pushing her into a kneeling position she is taller than the last time he raped her (Galvin, p18). This seemingly-minor detail, offered in the context of such a horrific event drives home the point that this abuse has been going on for so long that the author can use it as a means of tracking the course of her childhood. In this sense, it comes to completely shape and define how she views her life. It is not just something that has happened to her or will happen to her again; it is a fundamental part of who she has been, who she is, and who she will be in the future.

This elemental nature of her childhood abuse is reinforced in an entry written much later, when the author has grown up and gone off to college. Like many abuse survivors, she is reluctant to share her story (or, really, stories) with others; even though her experiences with abuse have had such a defining impact on who she is, she feels compelled to keep that part of herself a secret. While a therapist may be able to understand the psychological underpinnings of this phenomenon, and may even be able to apply theoretical or clinical explanations for it, the full import of such psychological damage can really only be described by someone who has experienced it. It is simply impossible to read this story without being moved by the raw emotion displayed by the author, while also being offered insight into her mind that could not be found in any other way.

The first story in the book is also one of the most powerful ones contained therein. The author, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasihna writes in a very stream-of-consciousness style that lends immediacy and urgency to her life story. This account, entitled “gonna get my girl body back: this is a work in progress,” offers insight into how survivors of childhood abuse often carry that abuse with them into adulthood, and how it can lead to self-destructive behavior and even make survivors into abusers themselves. The author describes how, as a young woman, she engaged in a risky sexual behavior with a number of partners, and how she became almost hyper-sexualized as a result of her childhood abuse. The abuse she endured as a child led her to see other people and herself almost entirely in sexual terms. Her relationships with others were defined primarily by the desire and goal to be “the best fuck all my lovers ever had.” She seemed unable to develop healthy relationships with others simply because she was never given the necessary tools to understand how to do such a thing. Sex and sexuality were the only context in which she could frame her interactions and relationships with others.

The author described herself as a “skilled performer” (p11)  and as someone who could read what others wanted and needed. In reality, though, this “skill set” seemed far more limited and limiting than the author realized at the time. She was able to see what others wanted, but what they invariably wanted –as she saw it- was sex. The author also notes that “all my lovers were survivors too” (p11), so it was not surprising that or many of them the use of sexuality as a means of avoiding or substituting for meaningful relationships was a common trait among “all her lovers.” The unhealthy relationship skills she had were mirrored and matched by everyone around her serving to reinforce her negative and destructive behavior. As is the case with the other stories in this book, the author of this story provides insight and meaning that can help therapists better understand and contextualize theoretical and clinical constructs.

The editor of this book makes a point of informing readers that the stories it contains were chosen to represent “the broadest possible cross-section of survivors –in terms of race, ethnicity, education, origin, sexuality, (and) gender” (p3). This is part of what makes this book valuable for therapists, as it provides a window into the real world of the therapeutic setting. Clients are generally not going to discuss their issues and concerns in a clinical fashion; to the extent that a client is able to really open up and discuss his or her life with a therapist, such discussions will be much more likely to be framed in the frank and direct manner seen in this book’s stories. Such stories will help anyone preparing for a career as a therapist to also prepare for the harsh reality of survivors’ stories.

Reference

Sycamore, M. B. (2004). Dangerous families. New York: Harrington Park Press.