That benighted family owes me nothing: No. Thing. But the story of Josh Duggar’s sexual abuse of children strikes every chord for me. That the show may have been cancelled doesn’t mean squat to me. I am listening, as I type this, to old-time gospel music on Pandora, which I never do because it makes me cry.
I cry for all the little girls and boys who are being raised in any religion that treats them as something they’re not — either as vessels or as spears, when really all they are is children who need loved and protected.
I cry for those of us who lived through childhood sexual abuse, and I cry for those who didn’t make it.
I cry for writers who seek to turn the conversation to forgiveness, when that is not the writers’ place, to ask for forgiveness. That’s for the victims of Josh Duggar, and I do not believe any of us have the right to ask them to forgive any one. That’s on them and if they choose not to actually forgive their perpetrator, they won’t hear squat from me.
I cry for family members who, thinking they are defending Josh Duggar, say:
Many times it is simply lack of opportunity or fear of consequences that keep us from falling into grievous sin even though our fallen hearts would love to indulge the flesh. We should not be shocked that this occurred in the Duggar’s home, we should rather be thankful to God if we have been spared such, and pray that he would keep us and our children from falling.
Actually? I don’t cry about those last two. I throw things because it pisses me off so very much, the arrogance of the writer. I also don’t cry at hypocrisy, as when Mr. Jim Bob Duggar suggested during an unsuccessful 2002 candidacy for U.S. Senate that rapists should be killed. Hmmm…
I cry for the severe perversion of the Gospel — not because I’m the gatekeeper or anything like that, but the actual words make us all equal if we’d just read the damn Book.
I cry for the Duggar girls, who are in the middle of a shitstorm not of their making.
I cry for parents who are too up their own flagpoles to pay attention to this kind of behavior and then seek to cover it up because they have a TV show that’s making them scads of cash and what’s more important? Truth? Or riches?
I cry for television networks that seek to make entertainment out of perversion and will continue my here-to-the-grave boycott of TLC.
And now please excuse me. An a cappella version of “Farther Along” just came on and I must sing along. Here. You sing, too: