Sexual Orphans: the (Sometimes) Legacy ACODs Live with Regarding the ‘Birds and the Bees’
Young Cosette sweeping. Émile Bayard, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
When I was nine years old, I came home from playing up at my cousin’s house. It was a warm, September afternoon when my aunt called and my mother picked up. Coincidentally, the aunt whose house I just had been happily playing at called my mother with a concerning message: a-little-kid-paper-fortune-teller had been found in the basement with one of the folded sides reading: “You will lose your virginity by age 16.”
My aunt, who knew me well, said “it could not have been my son’s…that writing only looks to be Adam’s handwriting...” With that, a shriek from my mother issued from across our new house. Alarmed, I caught my breath as I sat in my new bedroom. I knew that tone – someone was in trouble, big trouble, but I could not ascertain as a nine year old boy just who or what had transpired to trigger my mom in such a way.
It didn’t take long.
My mom came storming in: “Adam! Do you know what your aunt [M—] just told me?!”
“No,” I replied.
“She found a folded paper fortune teller with the words – ‘You will lose your virginity by age 16!’”
“She did?” I said puzzled, trying to play dumb.
“Do you know what that means? Are the other third grade kids talking like this on the playground?!”
Breathless, I could not respond. The barrage of questions just kept coming:
“Do you know what sex is, Adam?”
“Can you explain to me just how it is done?”
“Come’on, let’s hear it!…What takes place?”
Tears started to flow.
“I don’t know, mom!”
“Oh, surely you do! You wouldn’t write that otherwise, would you?”
“I don’t even know, mom … maybe, I heard something under the football goal posts yesterday…”
“So, you did hear something! Let me hear it…Come’on!”
Sobbing uncontrollably, I could no longer respond. My heart had already shut down minutes ago.
“Oh, so you’re not going to respond now, huh? Huh?!”
“Do you want me to tell you?”
“I don’t know, mom…I’m not entirely sure…I’m sorry; I didn’t understand...”
“Well, let me help you understand, for what you wrote is quite serious. It is something you don’t joke about.”
“Mom, it was just a fortu–...”
“No, this is serious; do you want to hear how it is done?”
Wiping snot across my new comforter, trying to muffle the sound of my sobbing, I heard her begin her explanation:
“It is when a man sticks his….”
“...and a woman opens her legs and receives his…”
These are the very first memories of my “birds and the bees” talk, and it would be the last ‘birds and the bees’ talk that I would receive in my entire life from either one of my parents. This explanation of human love and sexuality was a very mechanical explanation, made angrily by my mother and received in great distress by me, effectively creating an early trauma that would foreshadow a much deeper issue in my parents’ marriage that would end in their divorce just nine years later.
As a fellow ACOD, I bring up this childhood memory because we, the larger Life Giving Wounds community, have a great penchant for reflecting on the multifaceted ways we’ve been “orphaned” by our parents’ divorce.
What do we do, though, when we’ve been orphaned in the most intimate part of ourselves — our own human sexuality? What are the repercussions? Have we examined our personal stories? What do we do when the wounds of our own parents’ lives bring early trauma before we are ready to learn something at an age appropriate level? What do we do when we find out an early wounding experience (i.e., like the one above) was connected to a much greater marital issue that led to our parents’ divorce many years later?
The great Catholic novelist, Graham Greene, once said, “There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.” (Greene G. & Updike J. (2015). The power and the glory (Seventy-fifth anniversary [edition]). Penguin Books. Pgs. 13-14.)
For me, my ‘birds and the bees’ talk with my mother at age nine was that moment. It would still be another nine years until my parents officially divorced (18); however, the wounds of their own life had already begun to shape me indefinitely much earlier, leaving an indelible mark unbeknownst to either of them.
Many years later I would find out from my mother, after she had announced she was leaving my father, that she had lost her virginity to my dad at age 16. Memories of my ‘birds and the bees’ talk flooded back to me on that August afternoon in 2005 when my mother told me, “I’m leaving.”
Suddenly, four kids, one miscarriage, and twenty-two years of marriage later seemed to be built on much more flimsy foundations than it all seemed before. My mother’s strong reaction during my ‘birds and the bees’ scolding was a response to her own wounds. Suddenly, I realized that my parents could never speak authentically into that most intimate place of my soul— the place where our masculinity or femininity—where our bodily personhood manifests itself.
As an ACOD, I bring up this memory because I think the notion of being “sexually orphaned,” is an important aspect we should meditate on, one that I don’t think we’ve reflected a lot on in this blog, yet. If the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines an “orphan” in the broadest terms as “one deprived of some protection or advantage”, then I define the ‘sexual orphan’ as ‘anyone who has been deprived the protection or advantage of their parents’ formative witness in regards to the physical, moral, psychological, or emotional dimensions of human sexuality because of parental divorce, separation, or neglect. Essentially, the ‘sexual orphan’ is he or she that is left to wander and discover the complex intricacies of the most intimate of human relationships—sexual intercourse (in marriage)—all alone, for better or worse.
I think there are three keys to reflect on when considering if we’ve been ‘sexually orphaned’ by our parents in some way:
Our personal stories – examine how our human sexuality was explained to us, whether it affected us greatly or slightly, morally or emotionally, or both.
Our longing for parental guidance – grapple with how our parents’ witness to human sexuality (or lack thereof) created prudish silence or a traumatic experience
Our way(s) to recover our human sexuality -
Confession (the voice of the Father [and the Son]) - is an especially privileged place to hear the voice of the Father (and the Son) speaking life back into our souls, particularly regarding our own sexual brokenness
Spiritual Direction (the maternal voice of the Holy Spirit) - The CCC, in paragraph 726, says the Holy Spirit carries out [a] maternal mission through Mary. More simply put, in the Marian theology of St. Maximilian Kolbe, Kolbe writes: ‘The Son of God became manifest in Jesus; the Holy Spirit became manifest in Mary.’
Counseling/Therapy (the voice of a human brother or sister) - it would seem that this third prong would not be necessary once we have received the adoption of the Lord through the above two avenues (confession and spiritual direction); however, the road of life is long, and counseling/therapy is directed not so much at the soul as it is to the psyche ( i.e., the emotional life of persons). Counseling/ Therapy, therefore, is a place to explore the emotional patterns that life’s wounds have dealt us via the very physical presence of the therapist, who becomes a kind of adopted brother or sister on the road of healing.
So, where do we go from here? What does it mean if we have been ‘sexually orphaned’ in some way? I think it means that the road that ACODs may have to travel along regarding the discovery of “home” within our own human sexuality is a road of a special kind of adoption. We’re still offered ‘parental guidance,’ true, albeit in a more removed way, but it is still possible to find a sense of ‘home’ that we’ve so deeply lost. While not the ideal, there is always hope for us, too.
In my own life, I’ve found that this three-pronged approach—confession, spiritual direction, and counseling—is a sure way to finding this sense of adoption within my own ‘sexual orphanhood’ that was dealt to me so many years ago. For ACODs, we, more than anyone else, want the chance to live with a great sense of stability within our God-given vocations. So, go start living it! Get in line for confession; pray more earnestly for that spiritual director you’ve been waiting for; call that therapist that you have contemplated starting a client-patient relationship with. It will make all the difference.
About the Author:
Adam Hauser is an ACOD and resides in Texas. He is an English teacher at an all-boys Catholic high school. He is married and has three sons.
Reflection Questions for Small Groups or Individuals
How did your parents discuss the birds and the bees with you? Did their divorce impact how you thought about it? Does it still?
“What does it mean if we have been ‘sexually orphaned’ in some way?”
Do you feel like, or relate to being, a sexual orphan?