I am a survivor of child abuse. Ritualistic ahild abuse. Not a day went by (well, almost not a day) that a relatively unkind hand touched my person in a violent fashion.
Yup, I was spanked. Occassionally slapped too. And once or twice, I even got my hair pulled. And EVER so rarely, I got it with a broomhandle or the odd shoe hanging about. Or a belt.
For anyone with half a brain, I don't really consider myself abused at all. Of course, today its horrible ungawdly child abuse. Punishalbe by heavy fines and prison terms. Back in my day, however, it was called discipline.
And it worked fine.
To tell the truth, if my mom didn't ever spank me, or switch me (Southren tradition), or do whatever else she did to me I'd more than likely be much worse off than I am today. At least I have manners and know about respect. Something the youth of today could certainly benifit from, to be sure.
I don't really know when exactly spanking turned into child abuse, but I really wish they'd get off their damn high-horse and take a look around.
Half the reason that I avoided half of the 'bad shit' out there is that I had the fear of knowing the unholy beating I'd incur if I did it.
Nowadays, kids can think 'what's gonna happen to me? folks throw a hissy-fit, I tell them to fuck off and walkout on 'em'. What's a parent to do? From experience, I know that once a child stops comprehending his parents as godlike, its all downhill from there. And what sane person really thinks that a 'time out' does anything more than annoy the kid? Yeah, I'll think about what I did wrong... right. And when I get out of here, watch me do it again.
Fucking morons. And we wonder why kids are so disrespective of their elders. Of their parents and teachers. Its because they know what pushovers we are. They know what the worst that can happen is, and darn it all, they just aren't scared of being spoken to in soothing tones. Go figure.
What kids need today is a healthy dose of fear. Not the kind of fear bred from unliscenced dental practice upon various non-tooth infested parts of the body of judicious amounts of cigarette burns, but the kind of fear that breeds healthy respect. Kind of like the mailed fist with the velvet lining alagory.
Back when I was a kid, nothing but nothing put the fear in me like when mom came a'callin' and used my WHOLE name. You just knew that meant a severe butt-whoopin'. But in all likelyhood, you deserved it - I'm positive that she wanted to see my prepubesent ass just as much as I wanted to show it to her.
But who has the pink hairbrush now, huh? I do.
Because she didn't need it much after I turned twelve or so. I had a prett good idea by then what was acceptable and what wasn't. And in all likelyhood, I'm a better person for it.
And besides... they don't make 'em like they used to. Brushes today suck.
I guess I'm advocating child abuse here. Just as long s we can all tell the difference between a slap on the ass and a boot to the head.
Unfortunatly, I guess we can't.
What really amuses me is that I'm advocating it for the betterment of the children, which is very unlike me indeed. We do too much for kids today - and its going to turn around and bite us on the ass when these pampered little monsters grow up and take the world for themselves.
And to the people that reason that spanking IS really child abuse...
I hope you all have kids like my friend's. This little guy throws violent fits that require his parents to actually physically restrain him, and on occassion a trip to the Crisis Center is in order.
The little angel tells his parents to fuck off and tells them what assholes they are on a daily basis. He, in essence, abuses them. Constantly. They give him all the love in the world, and he's a spoiled brat as a consequence.
Of course, I really feel for that kid when he turns eighteen. I know what his old man's planning... and it's everything his son deserves.