If They Call It a Family, RUN.

My parents were older when I was born. My mother died when I was very young (I sadly have no memory of her), and my father remarried a few years after that. She was an excellent stepmother. In fact, I’d say they were great parents. But my sibling situation was different. There’s no point into going into details other than to say we were all more than a decade apart in age, had at best one parent in common, and that’s where our similarities and common interests ended. We were not close, to put it politely. None of us has spoken to each other in more than a decade. After my parents died, I found that the less I interacted with my siblings, the better off I’d be, and they seemed to feel the same. That strategy served me well, but deep down I sometimes missed having a family.

For years as a young adult I looked in large part to religion to fill that family void. They even described it as a “church family”. And as long as I did what I was told, showed up with my checkbook, and paid homage to the leaders without causing a fuss, all was well. But when I hit a point in life that the people in my church “family” might have made a difference in the course of my life (I was going through a painful divorce) they were nowhere to be found. Because I was at odds with their teachings, I was shunned by some but largely ignored and forgotten by most, including almost everyone who had called me their “brother”. Later attempts to engage with the church in a different denomination eventually left me no more convinced that they were a solution for me. The church “family”, in my experience, most commonly exists as a narcissist leader intent on being the king/queen of their local recruits, or as a social club that meets on Sunday mornings to reinforce their common beliefs (and often condemn those who don’t agree) while too often doing little else to help the world be a better place. Neither of those things holds much appeal to me at this point, but I admit that the illusion of having one’s “brothers and sisters” give a damn about me was nice while it lasted. And for what it’s worth, a shout-out to those precious few religious folks who do try to accomplish something decent in the world. I know you’re out there, and I sometimes wish I could participate without supporting things I don’t believe. But back to the family thing…

My most recent (and I’m pretty sure final) rounds of groups masquerading as family came through two streams: One was a community organization in which I spent significant time as a volunteer, and the other was a group of friends with whom we spent much of our free time and with whom we thought we were close. A leader in the community organization commonly referred to the organization as a “family”, which was fine until I suggested a change in some of the “family” priorities. I got a big taste of what it’s like to be in a “family” where those who aren’t the leaders are expected to support the group and fall in line with almost blind allegiance, but otherwise just show up, shut up, and do what they’re told. Not for me, but thanks for the opportunity.

In the group of friends, we discovered that a member of a group can become offended and upset without ever telling the supposedly offending party why, and abruptly end what was thought to be a close relationship (you know, one they so often described as a “family”). Worse still, we discovered (or were perhaps just reminded) that the other members of a group masquerading as a “family” will typically find it far more convenient to look away and excuse that sort of behavior rather than risk being shunned by the group themselves. I mean, calling out another person is just so darn inconvenient! It reminds me of a herd of antelope allowing one of their own to be taken down by a lion - not a problem if the other members of the herd don’t feel the claws and fangs themselves. Too bad for the one or two that went down, of course, but hey, off to the watering hole!

What I’ve learned from all this, after a lifetime of thinking that I wanted to be part of a group that’s like a family, is that I’m probably lucky to have had as little exposure to these masquerades as I’ve had. In fact, I don’t think family-like groups that care about the individuals within them truly exist. Like religion, the concept seems nice, but human nature being what it is, someone will quickly turn it into a weapon they can use to their advantage. And in my experience, those who talk about their group as a “family” seem most likely to do just that. They know the appeal of the concept, and that it makes for both an effective weapon and fantastic cover. Anyone who opposes them (which would disrupt the fun atmosphere of the group) will go down, and the other members will just look away. Too bad if you’re the victim, but if not, what a fun little group! When’s the next event?

As I sat down to capture these thoughts I remembered that the cold-blooded killers that terrorized southern California a half-century ago called themselves the Manson “family”. Seems fitting, and serves as a chilling reminder of how some people can be cold, calculating, and convincing, while the the need for group connection can cause people to act in amazingly bad ways just to avoid endangering their place in the group.

Personally, I’ve decided that the next time I hear somebody say the group they want me to join is “like a family”, I’m going to run the other way. Fast, and without looking back. I suppose the best thing that’s come out of my “family” experiences are that I’m reminded of the teachings of the Buddha, who just before he died is reported to have said, “Be ye islands unto yourself; Be ye refuge unto yourself; Seek not for refuge in others.” Words to live by. Seeking “family” is far too often unreliable and painful.