Let us imagine a paraphrased conversation had so often by the few survivors of severe abuse that managed to hold on to the inherit love that exists within all humanity.
“Spanking is bad, mkay. Spanking damages children and society, mkay. Spanking is bad, mkay.”
“I was spanked, I turned out fine. If more people spanked, the world would be a better place.”
“It isn’t the spanking, it is the parental interaction, therefore, there are better ways then spanking.”
“Do you have children?”
“No.”
“I love it how people without children think they are experts in raising them.”
Congratulations. Your argument not only shut down the conversation, but reminding me that the hell I suffered as child, through abuse, hidden by the “It is okay to spank, more should do it” argument means nothing to you, and you have no desire to prevent that abuse of me, or millions other children now, and billions in the future, because you can’t be bothered to try to find a better way to discipline our children, our future. Thanks for your heartless sorries though. It is the salt in the wound.
I don’t have kids, I’m not a parent, but I am an expert. I am an expert on the fucking hell of the abuse allowed to happen because because you tolerate spanking. I am an expert on never wanting a child or adult feel a fraction of the hurt I endured. I am an expert of fighting my daily battles for human destruction since first grade stemming from you allowing my step-father to whip my 2 year sister’s bare ass. I am an expert on the internal horrors of imagine keeping a Big Red Clifford as a puppy in my drawer so I could pull him out when needed to beat, I’m sorry, spank the shit out of him as the only outlet for my internal ugliness while in solitary. I am an expert at not just physically abusing my sisters, but adding a huge layer of mental abuse, because that was the only thing that impressed my mother. I am an expert in what it is to know you split the generation before because they couldn’t agree on how to rescue or protect me, because you are okay with spanking, giving them nothing to go on. I am an expert at being punched in the face by my father, whom I barely spent a year of my life with based on a step-mother’s ridiculous lie, and barely having a feeling. I am an expert of the wrecking ball to the gut being told by a survivor of drugs, sexual abuse, and prostitution part of parent’s lifestyle, that they were grateful for having a sheltered childhood compared to what was happening at our house. I am an expert of constantly being on the defense, ready to destroy as I extend my arm, flash a smile, and envelope you with my love for humanity. I am an expert on spending over half my adult life on disability because of that abuse, while being called a drain on society by those that support spanking. I am an expert of seeing beauty all around, yet never have that desire for complete retribution leave my soul. I am an expert at the mirror being held to my face showing just how truly amazing I am, looking at that ugliness always shading my face and wondering what could I have been without constantly battling that evil that doesn’t belong to me. I am an expert at what it is to know, that the pain will never matter, because you say “sorry”, but aren’t willing to better yourself, to better your children, to protect the millions of us being being abused every single day because they hidden behind your “Well, I turned fine, so fuck you.”
I would never turn my back on you for supporting spanking. I would never remove my embrace for the good you are, or may be. I would never treat you any differently then anyone else. I would never hold it against you for following the societal norm of spanking is okay. Just, I please ask you understand that whenever we interact, I feel that hurt and pain of my childhood from you allowing my abuse behind my laughter.
