47.2 - Spring 2018

Page 163

I drive it, I drove it in the dark. I backed it into the narrow driveway too. I unloaded it, and carried all its contents up the three flights of stairs to my new place. “I did this all by myself,” I thought. Maybe I don’t even need Stephanie, Tanya, and G. While I was unpacking, one of the books I uncovered was Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. I didn’t remember ever buying that book, but there it was in my collection. “A spiritual guide, huh?” I thought to myself. I’d turned to God shortly after the Sandra ordeal first happened, spending eight straight days lying in bed reading the Bible from Genesis to Revelations, highlighting, underlining, and starring all the passages that promised God would smite my enemies. (I really liked the smite-my-enemies parts!) The problem was I’d also found the Bible sexist and misogynistic, and I needed a God who loved girls (a God who could even love Girls). I’d closed the Bible and decided, I’ll be spiritual, not religious, which is why Ms. Cameron’s book caught my attention. And while I found her book insightful and restorative, it was another book she’d listed in the index as a suggestion for further reading, that gave me an answer about why I’d been drawn to The Fun House. The book was Home Away from Home: The Art of Self-Sabotage. Reading it, I learned: That sexualization is a form of sexual abuse in which parents don’t necessarily touch their children in inappropriate ways themselves, but introduce them to sexual conversation, scenarios, and images before they are ready. Girls who are sexualized often become hypersexual—having multiple partners, being addicted to flirting, flaunting their bodies, and the like. That The Fun House was the Home I’d always longed for—clean and comfortable, with brownies baking, and the matriarch serving everyone. SPRING 2018

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