The TGIF Sex Blox [Incest and Voyeurism]

¡Hola! Everybody...
I want to go see Michael Moore’s latest (heard it’s his best since Roger and Me), but it’s playing at only two theaters here?!! Both theaters (The Angelika and Lincoln Center) suck, IMO...

BTW, I don't think I announced here, but one of my blogs was nominated for Blog of the Year, and I'm getting my ass kicked! If you can, please go and vote for me (click here). It's pathetic, the ass-whupping I'm getting. LOL!

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Mackenzie Phillips and her Sister, Chynna

-=[ Incest, Secrets, & Woundology ]=-

On the eve of my wedding, my father showed up, determined to stop it. I had tons of pills, and Dad had tons of everything too. Eventually I passed out on Dad’s bed.

-- Mackenzie Phillips on her relationship with her father

By now, you have probably heard the cries coming on the heels of actress Mackenzie Phillips revelation of her long-term incestuous relationship with her father, musician John Philips, in a tell-all memoir. Everybody and their mother (oops!) has had something to say about it.

There’s a reason for that...

First, this post will not be a moral condemnation of Phillips. There will be no pontificating, proselytizing, or judgment of her or her decision to reveal the intimate details of an apparently consensual intimate and incestuous relationship with her father. She has enough to deal with. Part of the reason for the interest in the story, aside from the obvious taboo it breaks, is that as a society we all have become voyeurs. We watch suffering on TV, for example, and after having a good cry, we feel better about ourselves because we felt a catharsis of some kind. That this voyeurism does nothing to alleviate the world’s suffering is irrelevant -- what’s important is that we feel better about ourselves. Why do you think those stupid email forwards are so popular? Partly because clicking a mouse and sending that (bogus) story of the dying child to 1000 contacts on our list makes us feel better somehow.

We have mistaken voyeurism -- or a form of collective Peeping Tom-ism -- for compassion.

It’s the same with lurid sex tales, or the obsessive/ compulsive hunt for pedophiles that exist only in our minds, and all the other bullshit we are fed everyday. It’s voyeurism in the sense that we live our lives in absentia. We don’t so much as participate in life; rather we sit back and watch it flash by. We don’t date, we watch “reality” shows on dating and become consumed about who wins or loses, or who act da fool. We don’t so much as engage in sex, rather, we watch others do it, or talk about it, and the more lurid the sex, the more it captivates us. And all the while, the haves are raping us blind...

We are a society of Peeping Toms. Afraid of living our own lives, we watch the fantasy machine. And so it is with Mackenzie Philips' revelation. I can’t say for sure or speak on her cognitive motivation for revealing, in so public a manner, her sexual relationship with her father. Some might say it’s the money -- to sell a book. Others may point out hers is a mindset indicative of the fall of civilization as we know it. Others will say it’s a sign of the End Times, blah blah blah...

The only fact we can be sure of is that we’re watching. Period.

I do think that this need to reveal ourselves publicly is a perversion of something that was originally healthy. For too long, before the advent of psychotherapy and 12-steps fellowships, we hid our shame in secrets that killed us as surely as any unchecked cancer. Secrets kill, for sure. As a society, we were taught to hide our shameful aspects, not talk about rape, addiction, abuse, or incest, and that certainly wasn’t healthy. Secrets kill because secrets allow the behavior to continue unchecked. So, in a very real way, Ms. Phillips is talking about something that needs to be spoken about.

The problem is one of what the intuitive healer, Caroline Myss, calls woundology: the overwhelming tendency to become to preoccupied with our wounds. We have taken disclosure to its extreme. There is no reason for me to know that you are an incest survivor, recovering, addict, and God only knows what else, within the first few minutes I have met you. That’s none of my business. Actually, I don’t want to about know that. I shouldn’t know that.Not on the first date!

“Here’s my wound,” we seem to be saying to one another.

“I am an incest survivor.”

“I am domestic violence survivor.”

“I am a spurned lover.”

“I am a cancer survivor.”

The list goes on. We have become too identified with our wounds and the problem is that we are more than a wound, we’re human beings first. It’s a problem because when we abandon or are unable to maintain healthy boundaries, it becomes a free-for-all. Our lives have become episodes of Jerry Springer. Sometimes it seems that we can’t see each other in our rush to reveal our wounds.

Woundology.

Liberating ourselves from the destructive shame of our secrets is an important and noble cause. It’s how we grow as humans, how we evolve and heal, become more whole. It is the first step towards freedom from human bonadage. But talking about our secrets is only a small part of that healing process. To stay stuck on the wound, to walk around constantly exposing your wound to anyone who will bother to look is not part of an effective healing process. In actuality, it’s the other half of the voyeurism dialectic. The other part of voyeurism is the exhibitionism -- we have also become emotional exhibitionists. Some of show, the rest of us watch.

What kind of shit is that?

I will not pass judgment on Ms. Phillips, nor will I attempt, as many have done, to offer some bullshit pop psychology analysis. One of the first lessons I learned from my study of psychology is that you first have to look at yourself when faced when a stimulus.

Family incest/ rape (which is how I view this incident) is very traumatic and a child will develop poor coping skills and experience issues with boundaries. I think I see this in Ms. Phillips' decision to go public with the lurid details of her incestuous relationship with her father. There’s a difference between disclosing the process of a dysfunctional or harmful behavior and sharing the content of such behaviors. Healing is a process and talking about that process is a path out of the darkness of shame. Sharing the detailed contents of that experience, in my mind, isn’t for public consumption, and can't possibly be therapuetic. As traumatic as incest and family rape is, I can’t imagine how much more traumatic it would be to have to go through this process publicly.

But we all watch and we think we’re living... but we’re not. We’re professional voyeurs.

Love,

Eddie