This piece is from Anne Moser of QuickSilverQueen. Thank you Anne for your bravery.
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Shame. Everybody knows where you're going and what you're going to get when you follow Mom or Dad into their bedroom.
Humiliation. Bending over in front of one (or both) of the people you should be able to trust, waiting for the first blow to fall.
Defenseless. Sometimes they make you pull down your pants and expose your bare buttocks.
Rage. Unjust spankings. Watching Dad spank the 12-24 month old because she wouldn't eat something she didn't like...and then because she was screaming from the spanking.
You take whatever they give you. If you don't cry, you get more whacks. If you scream, you get more whacks. You can't win.
No child should have to go through that.
As a child, spankings were a part of everyday life. We didn't know anything different. We didn't like it, and tried to go a whole day without a spanking, but it never worked. We were never good enough. I'm pretty sure that's not what my parents were trying to convey, but regardless, it's the message I picked up. We didn't try to disobey the rules, there were just so many. Most of the time, we were figuring out ways to get around the rules...and got spanked for that, too.
It got worse once I hit puberty. Fortunately, shortly after puberty, they didn't continue making me pull down my pants, but it became more humiliating. My parents were very black and white in the discipline department: anything you did wrong merited a spanking. If you tried to correct something Mom said and she thought you were talking back, spanking. If Dad couldn't figure out who did something, he lined us all up for a spanking. This happened a handful of times. One time that stands out in particular was the time my dad kept spanking us until my soft-hearted brother "confessed" so the rest of us would stop getting spanked. (Later on, Dad found out he was the culprit, but didn't apologize and just said that we had probably deserved the spanking for something he didn't know about.)
I don't know why they started spanking in the first place. I remember my thoughts and feelings as a child; the one thing I wanted most was to make my dad happy and proud of me. He didn't need to spank me, he just had to show me affection and understanding and I would have stopped trying to get around the rules. I would have felt good enough. I would have moved heaven and earth for him.
For us, spankings continued well past puberty, throughout the teen years, and into our twenties. I didn't know it was abuse. I just knew I hated it, and it was especially unnecessary the older I got -- most of those spankings had to do with something I'd forgotten to do, like I'd said "Just a second" after Mom told me to go do something, forgetting to ask if I could finish whatever I was doing before obeying. Just the most inane, little things.
Now, I'm an anti-spanking, child-rights activist. Spanking is abuse. If you wouldn't hit/spank your husband, wife, or best friend, you shouldn't hit/spank your child.
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(Please show your support and leave comments for the authors if you can. Remember, this is an open ended series! Please consider writing something yourself, or sharing the project with your friends and followers. The guidelines are listed here, but feel free to write in whatever format is easiest for you.)
