Why Did My Parents Do Nothing to Stop my Bullying
 |
| Marta Monteiro |
The Therapist columnist, Lori Gottlieb, advises a reader who is seeking closure after a tumultuous childhood.
Lori Gottlieb, a psychotherapist and best-selling author of a memoir about her work as a therapist, offers readers advice on life’s tough questions.
New York Times
I’m a gay man in my 50s and comfortable in my skin, but I suffered severe bullying throughout school — often abetted by teachers.
A recent class reunion prompted me to write a tell-all letter to the current school director regarding that trauma. His gracious response was incredibly healing. My family has accepted me since I came out in my 20s, but they don’t know the full extent of my past ordeal.
While I shared the letter with my supportive brother, I’ve hesitated to show my parents, who are in their 70s. They claim ignorance (“We didn’t know you were suffering!”, “You never told us you were gay!”), yet they openly acknowledge I was “different” from toddlerhood and they often criticized my “un-boyish” behavior while growing up.
Older kids called me a gay slur when I was as young as 7, and I can still vividly picture my mother’s shock and horror when I asked her what it meant. They knew I was gay but never initiated a conversation, and I was too ashamed to speak up back then.
Since writing to the school, I feel an urge to finally have a “warts and all” talk with my parents to understand their perspective.
Should I open Pandora’s box with them now, or leave things be for the sake of family peace? How would I even approach the conversation?
From the Therapist: I can imagine how healing it felt to be met with compassion when you shared your experience with the school’s director. After many years of silence, it makes sense that his gracious acknowledgment meant so much to you. The question now is whether approaching your parents will bring similar healing.
To answer this, you’ll need to sit with three questions: What am I hoping for? What happens if I don’t get it? And who is this conversation for — the younger version of me or the adult version?
For the first question, you say that your goal with your parents would be to “understand their perspective,” but I have a feeling that what you want most is for them to understand yours. That’s what felt so gratifying after you wrote to the school’s director. You weren’t asking why he tolerated the bullying, whether he knew you were gay and how he thought about sexual orientation 40 years ago. After all, he wasn’t there. You were simply saying, Here’s what happened to me. The interaction didn’t feel healing because you understood his perspective. It was that he saw and honored your pain.
Your parents, on the other hand, were there during your childhood and I’m guessing a part of you is still angry with them for not being there in the ways you needed. So perhaps you want them to acknowledge that they knew you were gay as a child, and that you were bullied mercilessly for it — and to apologize for ignoring your struggle. If that’s the case, let’s move to the second question: What if you don’t get that?
In the past, they’ve denied knowing that you were gay and suffering. How will you feel if they maintain this position and continue to tell themselves they weren’t aware?
I say “tell themselves” because that’s what they probably did. Your mother’s “shock and horror” at hearing about the gay slur was likely fear, not ignorance — fear of what it meant if you were gay, and fear of how to protect you not only from the bullies at school, but from a world that might hurt you physically, emotionally and professionally throughout your life. Maybe in that time and place there was even fear of how having a gay family member might affect the way neighbors and bosses and social ties would treat all of you, including your brother.
Want to Ask the Therapist?If you have a question, email askthetherapist@nytimes.com. By submitting a query, you agree to our reader submission terms. This column is not a substitute for professional medical advice.
In this sense, “We didn’t know” might be less a lie than a form of protective denial that families sometimes develop around uncomfortable truths they don’t know how to handle. And now, it might be your parents’ way of coping with the fact that a tiny part of them knows that despite how much they loved you, they still let you down.
So, you need to ask yourself: If you don’t get what you want, is there value in bringing this up anyway?
This answer might lie in the third question: Which version of you is this conversation for? You might find that the young boy in you still needs healing, and that the adult he became can show that boy that healing doesn’t come from convincing someone else of your perspective; it comes from no longer needing them to agree.
If you decide to approach your parents, remember that most people are more receptive to vulnerability and bids for connection than accusations and calls for accountability. Dosage and delivery matter, too. Putting all of this out there with no warning could feel overwhelming and cause them to shut down, but a letter with a heads-up would allow emotional space for the information to be digested.
You can start with an invitation: “My recent high school reunion led to an experience I want to share with you.” Tell them that the director’s response moved you so much that you’d like to share what you wrote with your parents, too. Ask if they’d be open to seeing a version of the letter. Explain that your intent isn’t to blame, but to invite them to understand you and your past more fully — and maybe themselves and their pasts, too — something that feels important to you at midlife and as they age.
If they’re open to seeing the letter, make it about you rather than how you feel about them:
These are the things I endured when I was young. Those experiences made me feel lonely, scared, angry, sad, confused, unacceptable, unsafe and unprotected. As an adult, I’m grateful to have a supportive family and a good life and I know you did your best at the time, but sharing the fuller picture of what happened back then and how it affected me makes me feel closer to you. Thanks for reading this.
Then it’s time for you to embrace the answers you arrived at earlier: I hope to share my full experience with my parents. I’ll be OK no matter how it’s received. I’m doing this for my younger self, to offer him the voice he never had. We both survived the worst of what silence can do. We’re strong enough to survive whatever comes from breaking it.
Comments