I wasn’t raised with convictions. I thought I had been, after all my dad was a Lutheran minister and my mom was a social worker/teacher, but when the rubber hit the road I realized our family values was driven by appearances, what a bummer. The effects of these failures (as I see them) of literally NOT practicing what they were preaching is embedded in my soul.
When it was learned (in a way my mom couldn’t ignore this time) that my brother was raping and molesting me, their decision to send ME out of the house and send ME to counseling while they all got to live their “happy on the outside” lives was, in a nutshell, bullshit. Their decision for me to get an abortion at 15 to avoid THEM having to live through the embarrassment of their troubled daughter becoming pregnant, while they actively protested at the local Planned Parenthood against abortion was also, in that same Peterson nutshell, massive bullshit. (They were right though, I was troubled. Clearly, it was my fault that I didn’t feel good about myself; felt dirty, and wanted to have sex with as many boys, and later men, to cleanse myself of having sex with my brother. Also, the only useful thing about me was that I had a vagina to be used for sex, a consequence of a childhood stolen at 9 years old where the only thing I existed for was sex. Super fucked up Jules, that was me. And when I stopped playing that role, the Peterson’s became awfully nervous.)
I stood up to them and had a baby at 16. Oh sure, I was sent away to a shelter to live out my shame alone. Just more Peterson’s being Peterson. I guess all of their talk on how abortion was murder made it’s way into my heart and I did the hard thing of having a baby and placing her for adoption. I did my best. And I did it alone.
My daughter and I have since been reunited and in true Peterson fashion, they planted themselves smack dab in the middle of it and fucked it up. Peterson’s gotta Peterson. But we’ve (I hope) settled into an existence of harmony and my amazing number 1 granddaughter has her birthday today. Aren’t I the lucky one for getting to say happy birthday!
But it is a fact that my convictions had consequences and I learned very early on that often those convictions will mean I’m standing alone. It hurts, always. But I put on my fierce face and keep stepping. What are the other options? I say, well this is wrong but whatever, I’ll just go along with it! Uhhhh, no. (I imagine my husband just laughed at this sentence cuz he’s met me and “just going along” doesn’t happen.)
I’ve thought about this today because here in little ‘ol Wauawtosa, there is a battle between those who wish their children to enjoy their childhoods, including in school and those who wish to introduce Radical Gender Ideology and a Comprehensive Sex Education curriculum that can only be described at sick, twisted, and completely fucked up. Introduce 8 year old’s to masturbation? Sure! Anal sex to 10 & 11 year old’s? Why not??
There are a few of us who have spoken out against this sexual indoctrination (2nd grade is when children start learning the important lesson of “consent.” As in, maybe these sexual comments and advances aren’t actually pedophilia but a real love among an adult and a 7 year old who can learn to give “consent”.) But there are more who wish to stay in the shadows of opposition. They don’t want the “woke mob” after them. They don’t want their children to be bullied at school for having parents in the news. They oppose these school board moves but don’t want to be associated with those opposing them. Not too hard to see how we got here, eh?
Convictions have consequences, as do not standing up for those convictions. If you are not bold enough to fight for your children, America’s children, who are you thinking will be? Schools are already pitting children against their parents and by not wanting to appear “intolerant” you’re playing right into their hands. Grow a pair, your kids need you more than anyone or anything else.
Perhaps it takes courage to raise children.. John Steinbeck