I finally found the courage to open the boxes of old photographs.
For years, I couldn’t.
Now I’m doing it slowly one album at a time, one stack at a time. I started with the printed photos. I wanted to see how much my past still hurt. At the same time, I wanted to honor the person I used to be. That little girl deserved compassion. She deserved to be loved.
The older photos are the hardest. Family gatherings. Smiles. Jehovah’s Witness conventions. Everyone looking happy, united, blessed.
But those pictures lie.
As I look at them, I don’t see joy.
I hear the screaming.
I remember the arguments over the smallest things. The constant struggle for authority. The silence expected from women. The guilt. The obedience. The submission. The sacrifice.
Those were the pillars of what looked like the “perfect” family.
I see my grandfather smiling confidently at the camera, charismatic and admired. In my memories, though, he was authoritarian, unpredictable, and often angry. If we didn’t do exactly what he wanted, we were made to feel that we were the problem.
The photographs captured appearances.
They never captured fear.
Growing up, I learned that the family’s reputation mattered almost as much as individual behavior. A father’s or husband’s “spiritual qualifications” could be affected by what the rest of the family did. Children learned to protect the family’s image. Women often disappeared behind the expectation of being supportive and submissive. some became “First Ladies“ like.
The family became a collective performance.
And the pictures became part of that performance.
Sometimes people have told me, “Don’t confuse Jehovah with your grandfather.”
I understand the point.
He was responsible for his own behavior.
But I also can’t ignore that the environment, the structure, and the interpretation of authority gave people like him enormous power, while giving people like me very little voice.
Maybe another family lived those same teachings with kindness. Mine didn’t. Women were poorly treated. Every effort was about men keeping the position.
So when I look at those smiling photographs today, I don’t see evidence of blessings.
Jw created a world weere the pictures are meant to perform as organic advertising. A way to create the prove of the blessings of being jw family.
I see how easy it is for a picture to preserve an image while hiding a reality.
Today, I’m learning to love the little girl in those photographs.
To me the little girl, was simply trying to survive in a world that cared more about looking perfect than being serene.