It’s Not Just the Duggars

HA note: The following is reprinted with permission from Melissa’s blog Permission to Live. It was originally published on May 23, 2015.

This post has been a long time coming, and with the Duggar scandal all over the news, it’s been on my mind again. First off, let me say that what Josh Duggar did was wrong, and how the media has handled this story has been pretty awful too. Tabloids have been flippant about sharing police documents with the victims’ names on them, and since the Duggar family has been very vocally against LGBTQ people, who they claim are child-molesters, there are a lot of people eager to point out the hypocrisy of covering up the deeds of a child molester in their midst. I think there is plenty out there on what happened and how it was “handled”, I want to talk about the why. So many people are shocked and horrified that this happened in a “good christian family” like the Duggars, but it didn’t surprise me at all. I grew up in this movement, along with 10 siblings.

Sibling incest is not young, similarly aged siblings curiously looking at each others’ genitals. It is initiated by one sibling, and there is usually a 3 (or more) year age gap. Risk factors for sibling incest include power imbalances, parentalized siblings, lack of sex education, and other forms of abuse already occurring in the home. Judging by the general information we have about the Duggars, a lot of these factors are present. The sheer amount of children dictates that the older children care for the younger ones. And in the police report interviews none of the children interviewed even knew the correct names for the human anatomy when it came to genitals.

In a large homeschooling family, older siblings are often in charge of the younger ones. Younger children are expected to obey their older siblings as they would a parent and may face punishment from the parents or even the siblings if they do not obey. This creates a hierarchy where the younger children are basically powerless and have already come to expect that they do not have a say in how they are treated. Sexual actions initiated by the older sibling are not likely to be resisted or talked about in this sort of relationship.

If a parent is physically or emotionally largely unavailable, such as would be the case for anyone with 19 children, parenting younger children can often fall to the older ones. The older child is often experiencing the parental neglect as well, and since they are not emotionally mature enough to handle being a parent, they end up relying on the younger child for whom they have parental responsibilities for emotional fulfillment. Sometimes this leads to sexual actions as well.   Other abuse existing in the home greatly increases the likelihood of sexual abuse occurring. If children are used to being emotionally abused or physically abused, they do not have healthy boundaries or understandings of their rights as a human being.

In the conservative christian homeschool worldview sex ed is extremely lacking. We are talking about no knowledge of what sex is, human anatomy, etc. I grew up in this movement. My parents did not allow books in the house with such information. I remember when an art book from my grandparents included a nude sketch, my parents stapled several thick sheets of paper over it. I was told when I was 10 about menstruation and that babies grow in a womb inside a woman’s belly with help from a seed from her husband. I was at several of my siblings’ home births. But that was it. When I was 17, I found a book in the library filled with pictures of fetal development; on one page it showed 2 thermal images of a penis showing how flaccid = cool, and erect/engorged = warm. This was the first time I was aware of the fact that erections were a part of (penis-in-vagina) sex. I went to a different section and found “Seventeen magazine’s girls guide to sex”, and I put it inside of a large history book so no one could see what I was really reading and sat in the back corner on the floor reading as fast as a could. This was how I finally figured out that sex (the thing that only married people were supposed to do when they love each other very much, and was sinful and dirty otherwise) did not magically happen while 2 people slept in the same bed, and I was 17. I was 20 and married before I learned what a clitoris was. I had several children before I finally heard of the concept of “consent”.

This sheltering did not keep me from being a sexual person; it just left me with a complete lack information about it. I had no understanding of boundaries, or consent or even that masturbating was a sexual (albeit normal) act.  My point is that it is entirely possible to be a teenage, conservative, homeschooled kid, and have no idea what is sexual and what is not, or what is appropriate and what is not.

So no, given the circumstances of the home, combined with their belief system, I am not surprised by sibling incest. In fact, I think this happens in large conservative families far more than anyone thinks it does. What is truly horrifying is that after setting their kids up for this to happen, Josh Duggar’s parents pushed it under the rug, kept things in house, and didn’t get help for either the molester or the children who were molested. Several of the headlines have claimed that Josh was turned in by his dad; this wasn’t true either. The investigation did not occur until over 3 years after and only because an outsider got wind of it and called the abuse hotline. Jim Bob and Michelle did their best to cover up and move on. They claim because of god’s grace the slate is wiped clean, as if it never happened. Except it did. It happens precisely because of the family system that has been paraded on TV for too long.

And it isn’t just the Duggars; this is basically the tip of the ice berg of what is out there in the conservative christian homeschooling movement. Despite the smiling wholesome-looking exterior, ignorance and repression and isolation creates this kind of set up again and again. When a system teaches that the victim is to blame, refuses to educate on or even talk about sex, treats children as property with no rights, and requires unquestioning obedience, it is not surprising when dysfunction comes to light.

Hurts Me More Than You: Melissa’s Story

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Trigger warning for Hurts Me More Than You series: posts in this series may include detailed descriptions of corporal punishment and physical abuse and violence towards children.

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Melissa’s Story

Melissa blogs at Permission to Live on Patheos.

I was putting lotion onto the eczema on my toddler’s back when without warning she flopped onto my lap, lying over my knees completely relaxed. Instantly panic rose in my throat, and I flashed back to a memory.

I was 9 or 10 and asking my mom for help with my clothes. The zipper on the back of my dress was stuck and I couldn’t reach it with enough strength to pull it open. It proved difficult for my mom too, and when she couldn’t get it open she asked me to bend over so she could see what she was doing better.

My body couldn’t do it. I heard what she was asking me to do, and my head told my body to bend over so she could get to the zipper, but my back went rigid.

I was afraid.

My mom repeated her request and I tried to stiffly move forward a little bit, she realized what was happening and laughed “I’m not going to spank you, just bend over so I can see the zipper.”

Rationally, I guess I knew she wasn’t going to spank me, I hadn’t done anything to disappoint her. But my body still fought. I did the best I could, but I could hardly move and the whole time she was fixing the zipper. Every muscle in my body was clenched in anticipation of being hit.

My mind told me that I SHOULD trust my mom, but the muscles in my body told me that I COULDN’T.

In contrast, my toddler trusted me completely. When she flopped over my knee I went stiff from the memory of many spankings from long ago. She, on the other hand, was relaxed, knowing that I was going to help her and not hurt her.

I have many memories of my parents.

I remember my Mom making me a birthday cake. She taught me how to do a backbend and how to brush all the knots out of my hair. Sometimes she sang “Home! Home on the range!” And sometimes when she was happy she danced a goofy little dance. I remember watching my Mom curl her bangs with a hot curling iron and put on blue eyeliner with a little pencil.

I also remember her hitting my bare skin with a flexible switch from the magnolia tree. She taught me that I was wrong, and she was right and that I had no power, no right to protect myself from harm. Sometimes she made me hold up my own skirt while she spanked me, sometimes if I moved she hit me again. I remember watching my mom break an orange spatula on my sister’s bottom.

I remember my Dad making us omelets on the weekends. He taught me how to tie a square knot and let me watch while he changed a tire. Sometimes he gave us a piggyback ride up the stairs to bed and sometimes he got out crackers and spreadable cheese and shared it with us. I remember watching Dad kiss my mom in the hall and bring her flowers for no reason other than he loved her.

I also remember his calm cold voice as he told me I must bend over and touch my toes and hold perfectly still while he spanked me. He taught me that he was bigger and stronger and more powerful than me and that I deserved to be hit when I made mistakes. Sometimes he squeezed my arm really hard to hold me in place while he hit me, sometimes he made me hug him afterwards. I remember cowering in a corner, hands planted firmly over my ears, trying to drown out the sound of him spanking my siblings again and again and again. I wished desperately that they would just say whatever dad wanted to hear, like I did, because I knew my dad would never ever “let them win”.

I know my parents did good things for me. I know they worked hard to care for me and provide for me. I know spanking doesn’t seem like that big of a deal to them. I was just a child after all, and what child enjoys being punished? I sometimes wish I could forget the bad, but I can’t help the way my back tenses if they use that tone of voice. I can’t help feeling somewhat panicky whenever they don’t agree with me. I can’t help but worry about ever leaving my kids with them alone. I can’t change the many memories of conflict, I can’t erase the fact that they are the people that hit me for the first 16 years of my life.

I can’t change how wrong and bad they made me feel. And I can’t change the fact that they disagree with and discredit my experience.