We Become what we are Shown.
I was watching Dead Poets Society, recently, and was reminded that not-so-long ago, physical punishment was commonplace in American schools and homes.
Here’s one woman’s story—which is by no means definitive, we’re all raised differently, and mature differently.
I was slapped as a child when I did something wrong. Growing up, I honestly bought the old line that ‘it never did me any harm’, and that it teaches you respect. I am sure for some people this may be true, but for me, like a lot of people, as a child you were never actually hit for doing something wrong but because your parents were so frustrated they had no other options but to resort to it.
I have now realised that as a grown up, when things get difficult, I resort to violence to express myself. Not in an overly violent way, but I will hit my boyfriend on the arm or chest. It is just my go to reaction. I know it needs to stop and I am working towards stopping it. Something else that has backed up my theory with this as well is that my boyfriend was never hit once, neither was my best friend and they are
the gentlest, most patient people ever and no matter how frustrated they get, would never do something like that. So, in short, I don’t know if I will ever have kids, but if I do, I will make damn sure never to hit them as I was. It leads to a lot of repression and inability to express yourself in any other way, or for me at least.
First Image: Sodahead
An interesting, and un-PC perspective:
It’s actually illegal in schools in most states, now:
Barbados, via UNICEF:
Here’s the scene after Nuwanda’s punishment (couldn’t find the scene itself):
hot on elephant
The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. A Letter to my Children: You do not come from a Broken Home. These People are Rare Gems—Keep Them, Fight for Them, don’t Give Up on Them. Mom, can I Call her Mom, Too? Jon Stewart makes first appearance since retiring—”it’s not your country.” Waylon shares 10 transformingly beautiful Quotes about Love. My Marriage had to End—for my Life to Begin. Why your Yoga Goals are (Probably) Irrelevant, if not Downright Dangerous. The Day I Stopped Running. Dear Woman in the White Car at Margaritas Mexican Grill in West Memphis, Arkansas on July 15th, 2012.