There are few people who can bother me nearly as much as my Uncle 'Phobe. Since I was a small child, I have been afraid of him physically. He bullied my cousins and me relentlessly (when he was an adult, older than my own mother), and once lost his temper so intensely that my aunt rushed all of us children out of the room, while I was terrified for my mother's safety. Though no one got physically hurt, I still am affected by that memory to this day.
I think the reason that he bothers me so much is the physical fear of him. Which I still have. He has not been physically threatening in years, decades almost--but he doesn't have to be. The threat is almost there, in the back of my mind, whenever I have to see him. The threat is implied in any situation in which we disagree--whether he means it to be or not.
I don't know how threatening he really is, now, but I know one thing, for certain: I can't completely trust him. If he said tomorrow that he would never harm anybody, I wouldn't completely believe him. I can't afford to, after what I've been through and what I've seen. If somebody can be "pushed" into something that they wouldn't normally do, then they are not in control of themselves, and therefore can't be trusted to make an accurate assessment of themselves.
My grandfather likes to use the phrase, "forgive and forget," but I can't forget something which threatens my physical or emotional safety. I don't use the word "forgive," either, because even God doesn't forgive people unless they actually apologize for their sins and stop doing them. Are we to be better than God?
This physical fear has made it especially difficult to be myself around him, when my self is something that he vehemently dislikes. I am bisexual, but even years before I knew it, I was for gay rights--or wanted to be, but thought that God would throw me in hell for it.
And I'm sure you can guess why I refer to him as my Uncle 'Phobe.
I have to think about what I will say, before every single family gathering, if he should say some snide little remark about LGBTQ people once again (which has happened considerably often since I have started wearing rainbow pride pins--which was, incidentally, in response to a homophobic comment he had made about how gays should stay in the closet).
I have spent countless hours obsessing over it, because I'm stuck between my desire to be totally honest about who I am and what I believe, and my intense fears, which are not so bad when he's actually around, but which return in force when I have just seen him or am about to see him.
I want to say so many things. I want to be so outspoken. I used to think that I wanted to argue with him, insult him, and win, but now I just want to be completely myself, and say, "I disagree with that," and if I feel like it, "...and here's why..."
I cuss him out, I am bold, when thinking about what to say, but it's quite a different matter when the family gathering draws closer, or when I'm actually there.
I feel like shit when I have to be quiet and deny who I am, and implicitly agree with him or let him get away with saying it and pretending that everyone agrees. He seems to expect to be able to "make" others agree with him, with the implied threat of physical force. Might is right, in his worldview, at least when it comes to others. He wants to be the official spokesman or prophet for the entire family, it seems. And I cannot assume that he will not resort to any means necessary to keep that power over people, especially the "kids" of the family (though they are all over 18).
I had that problem the other night. It felt so good to say the stuff I imagined myself saying, but then I realized that I probably would have trouble saying at least some of it. It was not even that insulting, as far as insults go. ("You don't know what you're talking about," when it came to progressive, pro-gay Christianity, which I don't have a problem with and which I almost feel is my belief sometimes--though my practical side doesn't want to believe in something just because I sometimes like it.)
But I was afraid to say something too confrontational, so I just shook my head. And shook it and shook it and shook it. It felt good, to clear the negativity out of my mind. And it was something I imagined that I could do.
I don't know what I can and can't do in the moment. But communication is not all verbal. It took a lot of courage to wear those pins, at first, but now I do it with only a little nervousness. And when it comes to something I can do, the simpler the better. I don't know if he will listen to even the briefest explanations of why I believe as I do, and I don't know if I can utter them without getting flustered.
But a simple gesture, maybe with a soft, "No...no...no..." is something that I can practice more, and that I can use to help myself gain more confidence eventually for the future.
I don't have to explain things to or convince the bullies. All I have to do is shake my head.
And I've got a lot of shaking to do right now.
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