Book Review by Zinta
Aistars
Paperback:
256 pages
Publisher:
White Bird Publications, 2011
Price:
$14.95
ISBN-10:
0982802463
ISBN-13: 978-0982802465
The moment I
opened Don't Cry, Daddy's Here, I
knew this was going to be hard to read. It's difficult to think of any subject
matter more difficult to stomach than incest, the sexual molestation of a child
by a family member … let alone her own father.
Yet
sometimes we need to plow ahead, read and bear witness to this now grown
child's story. There is tremendous healing in storytelling, and there is great
healing we who listen to that story can offer to the story teller, by hearing
her out and acknowledging her life experience. So I read.
This is
Brinda Carey's story of her growing up years, from the time she was hardly more
than a toddler to the time that she was a young adult woman. No longer a
victim, but now fully a survivor, Carey would later earn a degree in criminal
justice and work as a probation officer, and she would marry and have children
of her own. No doubt much of this was possible because she was able to share
her horrendous experience, talk about it, and she also had her husband to lean
on—the story of how they met and how he persisted in supporting her even when
she resisted help is part of this story.
Not
untypical in this kind of story is that Carey's mother knew what was happening,
at least to some degree, but turned her back on her child and failed to protect
her. Indeed, at times, she acted like a jealous wife angry at the threat of her
husband's "affair" with his daughter. It is hard to read about this
without having to swallow the bile coming up at the thought alone. The
challenge here is to stretch the mind to encompass the thought that this woman,
too, was to some degree an emotionally battered woman. With time, there was a divorce,
and eventually, even a reconciliation between mother and daughter.
I will not
repeat here the events of this story. Suffice it to say that a child is
coerced, tricked, overpowered, overwhelmed by adult mind games, threatened,
and, yes, repeatedly, over all of those years, raped. Again, again, again.
Finally, to the point of being impregnated, sometimes to have her pregnancy end
in miscarriage, but another time to result in the birth of a child who would
eventually die due to genetic oddities caused by two so closely related people as
parents. It boggles the mind and breaks the heart.
Tragedy
piles upon tragedy, until Carey is finally able to mature and break free, once
and for all, in spite of her father's threats to commit suicide, using this as
emotional blackmail in his attempt to keep her in his life. It is at this point
that it would have been powerful to read more about how this breaking free
happens. The author might have shared more of her inner thought process and
emotional processing, to the point where she finds the strength and wisdom to
escape her abuser. It would also have been powerful to read more about how
Carey achieves recovery—arguably much more powerful than the pages of quotes in
the second half of the book that, I would guess, few will bother to read.
The book is,
in fact, in great part comprised of biblical and other quotes, lists of
resources. Carey's story, dotted with a few black and white photographs,
comprises only about half of the book. Since this doesn't appear to be a part
of the book's marketing or description on the cover, that can no doubt lead to
disappointment for some readers expecting more of a full-length book.
Bottom line:
this is not necessarily a gracefully written book, but it carries weight as an
addition to the resources available for the too many children growing into
damaged adults, trying to regain emotional health after being abused and
molested by those they trust most. It is important for all of us to be aware
that this is a problem in our society, and that the perpetrators can very well
be the man next door, the one you wave hello to when outside mowing the lawn. I
acknowledge the tremendous courage required of this author to speak up and go
public with her own story.
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