Don't Forgive Yourself

In all the research I've done on forgiveness, I've noticed a recurring theme. I see it on blogs, on pithy Internet memes, in books, and in scholarly articles. It's the idea of forgiving oneself. Equally as important as forgiving the aggressor, they say, is forgiving yourself. For what you did or didn't do in the relationship. For what you said or failed to say. For the person you were. It doesn't matter anymore, they say. Forgive yourself.

When we're talking about abuse, though, forgiving ourselves isn't necessary. We didn't do anything wrong. 

I find it odd how frequently victim blaming gets pulled into conversations about sibling abuse. I was having a conversation with my cousin one day, and we were discussing my relationship with my abusive sibling. Or, rather, she was telling me how she saw our relationship. For your information, my cousin and I live approximately 350 miles apart. We see each other twice a year if we're lucky. We didn't grow up together, and our relationship is casual at best. We hardly know each other, and she certainly doesn't know anything about my family's intricate relationship dynamics. But during this conversation, as I'm explaining why I'm not attending my sibling's wedding, she says to me, "Well, she has things to apologize for, and you have things to apologize for."

Excuse me? How can this person--who hardly knows anything about my relationship--automatically assume we're both equally guilty? It is not a universal truth that "it takes two to tango." That applies to many relationship problems, but in cases with abuse, assuming equal blame is wrong and harmful. The victim is never to blame for someone else's abusive actions. 

I've come to realize the saying, "Damned if you do, damned if you don't" rings especially true for sibling abuse. If you do stand up for yourself, you'll fight with your sibling, and you'll hear the often-proclaimed-but-hardly-ever-questioned "it takes two to tango" line. If you don't stand up for yourself, you get walked on and everyone from therapists to estranged family members will tell you later in life that you were "playing the victim" all along, and had you defended yourself, or communicated your expectations (ya know, to your eight-year-old sibling), or yelled louder or acted tougher, all of this wouldn't have happened. 

When I was growing up and getting picked on, I didn't stand up for myself all that much. Part of it was fear, but another part was knowing in the back of my mind that my efforts would be futile. I knew I would just hear the "Now, now, Sybil. It takes two to make a fight," line, and the grown-ups would send me on my merry way. And then I would feel even worse, because I would be angry and helpless.  

But it turns out that even when you don't fight back, you still hear the "it takes two to tango" line. From people who can't bear the uncomfortable truth that maybe, just maybe, there is a guilty party who deserves accountability. 

There's a very simple reason why victims don't need to forgive themselves. What happened to them was not their fault. From all of my observations, I have noticed one thing: if the parents aren't on board, nothing the victim can say or do will do anything to stop the abuse. Children don't have control here. In the family unit, parents are the authority figures, the children are submissive to the parents, and the siblings relate to each other as peers. When sibling abuse is happening, the parents have the primary responsibility of stopping it. 

I believe strongly that if anything is going to stop sibling abuse, it is education. Parents need to be educated on recognizing harassment, and knowing what to do if it happens. When abuse is going on, it is often because the parents don't recognize it. It is not because the victim is weak. It is not because the victim needs to be assertive. It is because the victim got unlucky, and must live at the mercy of his or her parents' decisions.

So don't forgive yourself. There's nothing to forgive. The type of person you were never mattered. It wasn't your fault.