When my mother was young she was taught that, until she married, she should defer to her father in all important decisions. “Your elders know best” - was what she was told (this was usually followed up with a “and when you’re married, your husband will know best,” but I will not get into that right now).
Today, many people are busy lamenting the breakdown of such traditions. They exist on many levels of my native society, but there is also the fear that they will disintegrate. Alarmists paint a typically dystopian scenario: “elders” no longer exist and society is in shambles. Five-year-olds are snorting crushed Viagra pills, and houses of worship have been converted to seedy “massage parlors.”
I would like to take a critical look at traditional relationships between parents and children without falling victim to reactionary rhetoric that has little in common with reality.
Now, it is true that parents usually want what’s best for their child. However, do parents always know what’s best? If you have been around the block a few times, you know what the answer is.
Parents are people, and people make mistakes. This has been true since the beginning of time, and it will be true in any age and any culture.
When I was younger, my father was convinced that I needed to study engineering or medicine for the sake of having a stable career. It did not matter that I had absolutely no talents when it came to either one of these esteemed fields of study.
I shudder to think as to how miserably I would have failed if I didn’t stand up for myself at a crucial moment, and rejected my father’s well-meaning advice.
Am I a bad daughter?
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February 6, 2008 – 4:25 pm
My cousin did not leave a suicide note. They spoke of it as if it had been an accident. She had accidentally taken half a bottle of pills. Every family has secrets, you see.
And I should have known.
Her husband never struck her, and never smiled at her. She was grateful to him. He re-married quickly.
I should have known.
Her old classmate came to me years later, in a different city, where the air thankfully did not smell of her hair. Did I want to have a cup of coffee? Did I want to know the truth about my cousin? “My cousin had an accident.”
She had so many. Starting at age twelve.
I should have known. Read More »
September 5, 2007 – 12:20 pm
I knew when I was in my teens that I wanted to have kids. I would raise them right, they’d grow up to be productive and moral people, and I would feel proud of having raised perfect children.
When I started having kids in 1988, I read the right books, fed them the right foods, bought them the right toys, always put them in a car-seat and went to church every Sunday. And everything went well. They did well in school, they had friends, and people congratulated me on my well behaved children.
And then, something happened. I’m still not sure what, but something definitely happened. My perfect 1st golden boy decided to go his own way. My perfect second boy knew beyond any doubt that he knew more about stuff than I did. My charming and attractive third boy was diagnosed with ADHD, had to repeat the second grade, and endured several summer school sessions in order to proceed to the next grade. Read More »
October 26, 2002 – 12:09 pm
He came home and threw his heavy school bag by the entrance in a gesture rendering all the books and knowledge it carried worthless. He grabbed my hand and dragged me behind him like a criminal to his room. He closed the door without saying a word and made me sit on his bed next to him.
We sat in silence, but I could hear his thoughts ricocheting like bullets around the walls of his mind, until finally, his whole being was about to be ripped apart in his restless search for a shelter from the simple, three-word question; What am I? Read More »
