I’m always reluctant to share hard stories about my family here because I don’t want people to get the wrong idea and think my family members are monsters. That story I recently wrote about my nephew got feedback about my sister’s alleged bad parenting and why we should be concerned about my nephew, and…yikes. That was upsetting.

I always feel guilty sharing this history with my dad — I NEED to. It’s very painful for me and I’m still working through it. But I don’t want to serve him up on a platter for the world to say he’s an asshole. Especially now, as he is trapped in a wheelchair with Parkinsons.

In his mind, I know he was trying to teach me how to be a fair woman and respect men’s supposed biological imperatives while also trying to help me avoid trouble by ensuring I was “on alert” at all times — that I made sure to dress carefully, speak carefully, and behave carefully so I never put myself in danger. I know, in his mind, that was the right thing to do. That was his way of keeping me safe. Obviously, I have a different perspective, especially in the #metoo world we live in today.

But he never shamed us into holding out on sex until marriage and awkwardly showed us how to use condoms and insisted that we have a partner use them. He got some things right. LOL.

I just wish it had been different. I wish both my parents had understood what consent was — or even just a little bit — and had given me that power. I can’t imagine how different my experiences would have been if that had been the case.