Monday Notes: Family as Performative Action

I’m not interested in posing for pictures, pretending to be well, while emotions fire inside.

I’m not interested in spreading a smile wide across my face as I eviscerate deep-seated pain.

I’m not interested in keeping company with those whose life’s work is to worship Jesus, while spewing hate about others in private and praise in public.

I’m not interested in the performance of family.

I want to experience a mother whose instincts haven’t been muted by her own unmet needs, whose unconditional love isn’t predicated on codependency and control.

I want to feel the emotional security of a father, who uses words to express the intentions of his heart and the desires of his lineage, not the projection of patriarchy learned and perpetuated.

I want siblings secure enough in their attachment style to meet me through our bond of partiality, halfway toward middle ground and safety.

For when I become free from the performance of family, I can be liberated from the construct of connection. I can be loosened from the grip of a rendition of relatives. I can be released from the chains of perception of mother, father, sibling.

No. I’m not interested in the performance of family.

But this is a pipe dream in the 21st century, so I smile for the cellphones pointed in my direction, the sun behind the photographer’s back, poised to capture the golden hour of “a beautiful family,” broken inside, but perfectly documented through images portrayed via social media.

Monday Notes: Family as Performative ActionInspiring Image #145: Beauty in DeathWriter’s Workshop: 3 Reasons I Chose a Hybrid PublisherInspiring Image #144: Transient PittsburghMonday Notes: Fentanyl