Dad had pushed back when I converted. Mum had pushed back when I married young. But the church had given me purpose, and friends, and a family, and a job. It had taken care of those questions of belonging. It had been an outlet for every bit of energetic zeal and wonder that I could have been directing at sex or drugs or dance floors or international travel or fine arts degrees. My rebellion into Christianity made me into a perfectly obedient daughter, and I think for that they just accepted the benefits of my good behaviour and tried to ignore the weird shit. It was innocuous, for a time.
