We give you the role, you play the role
We give you the role, you play the role
We give you the role, you play the role
And you better play it good!
Those lyrics are from my song “This Is Conditional Love (And It’s Enough),” which is track five on my album Family Plot. I sing these lines in a ugly, ugly voice because they represent the ugly, ugly perspective of my family – and surely a lot of your families.
They don’t want us to thrive. They don’t want us to express ourselves truthfully and authentically. They want us to conform; to fall in line. They want us to be responsible for making everything easy for them.
They make it seem like we need to mask our true selves in order to be deserving of love.
They make us seem like terrible inconveniences.
Fuck them.
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Scape Greatest of All Time
Since becoming estranged from my family, it’s become clear that I played a crucial role as its scapegoat. Before me and for a while, concurrently with me – it was my late brother John. So beloved by my family, somehow, even though while he was alive, it was quite fashionable for my mother and siblings to talk shit about him and stand in heavy judgment about his lifestyle and choices. It was ugly, and I don’t think he ever knew.
As I got older and evidenced many of the quirks characteristic of my brother, I started to hear warnings: “You’re too much like John! I’m afraid you’re going to turn out just like him!” You mean, I might turn out to be a loving, empathetic, kind, curious, courageous and vulnerable human being? Oh no! The horror!
None of those beautiful attributes matter to a family that demands one thing and one thing only: that its members know their roles and perform them with exactness. Great for my sister who gets to be the golden child. Not so great for John and me.
For my oldest sibling and me, acceptance was only ever partial. Love, virtually nonexistent. Only conditional love allowed. The conditions being our respective abilities to perform our roles to perfection.
Of course, John, 19 years my senior, was not around that much by the time I started coming up. He wasn’t there to scold or chide for whatever was making my mom upset anymore. Wasn’t around to take the blame and help my mom feel superior by comparison.
Another scapegoat was required. And so I started being groomed for my role.
The Role
We were never given a choice of roles, John and me. We were cast in them unknowingly, without regard to our abilities, interests or actual attributes. We didn’t even know there was a dramatic production happening at all!
But we figured it out. We learned what was acceptable and unacceptable through pure trial and error. We learned that there was no greater sin than to be inconvenient to an emotionally immature, highly critical parent and her devoted flying-monkey allies.
And so what was acceptable became the role. And these were the acceptable characteristics:
- Doesn’t complain
- Easygoing
- Stoic
- “Well rounded” – avoids focus on specific areas of interest, ability or talent in order to give an appearance of well-balanced excellence
- Goes along to get along
- Doesn’t “rock the boat”
- Respects elders and authority figures unquestioningly
- Concerned with appearances; will alter behavior accordingly and immediately to ensure a positive impression
- Doesn’t bother people with personal issues
- Doesn’t require being told, “I love you.”
- Doesn’t express or display emotions in a manner that requires intervention from a loved one
- Never inconveniences anyone else by expressing anything other than the consensus family position on a topic
- Avoids attention
- Quiet, keeps to themself
- Has deficiencies, possibly defects, in areas of common sense, work ethic and overall maturity that require near-constant coaching and-or chastising
For most of my life, I thought those things were what I was. And for most of my life, I failed extraordinarily at embodying those characteristics. Well, except for the last one – I had lots of those deficiencies and defects, apparently. It was a problem.
But in reality, I am not any of those things. Nor was I ever deficient or defective in the ways I was informed, over and over again, that I was. Neither was my brother. We were just born into a family too concerned with bullshit values to give a shit about who we actually were as people.
The Reality
John was wild and vibrant, unconventional and alternative. But that’s not what was acceptable. I grieve for the reality he was unable to live because of the role he was cornered into by my family.
For me, I have recognized the reality. I am growing back into my real self, more and more each day. And the more I become authentically, truthfully me, the angrier I get at the nature of my family’s treatment of me.
These are my real, true and authentic characteristics. The ones deemed unacceptable by my family. The ones I avoided because I was so afraid of being the bad actor who couldn’t perform the role properly:
- Displays numerous emotions, often all at once
- Has a strong, well-attuned sense of justice and is unafraid of expressing it
- Loves to create; loves to perform
- Prioritizes focus on personal areas of interest, ability and talent to achieve excellence
- Has interests outside the mainstream
- Capable of forming and maintaining relationships with a variety of people from a variety of backgrounds
- Emotionally secure
- Creative
- Charismatic
- Worthy of attention
- Worthy of love with no conditions
- Beautifully sensitive
- Exceptionally curious
- Incredibly accurate bullshit detector
- Interested in the odd, esoteric and alternative
- Beloved by friends and chosen family
- Unworried about the critical opinions of strangers
- Unembarrassed by normal human mistakes
- Loving, caring, passionate
I don’t know about you, dear reader, but don’t you think most families would prefer the reality over the role? Yeah, most families, probably. But not mine. And I know I’m not alone. And that really stinks. But at least I know. And that’s a gift.
This Sad Beautiful Gift
It’s a gift now – the fact that I know who I am for real. I have distance from my family now, which is very sad. I’ll probably never connect with them again, in any way. But the distance allows me to bloom and grow. To be the one I wasn’t allowed to be. To realize there is no penalty for being myself; in fact, there is only a big-ass pot of gold. Endless riches. To be known for who I really am. To be loved for who I really am. To know that my voice matters, my expression matters. My emotions matter.
I am not an inconvenience. Neither was John. Neither are you.