Fear-y Tale

Once upon a time, the only way to keep children in line was to scare the living shit out of them. (Editor’s note: I’m not going to trash the collected works of the Brothers Grimm or question their process, but their style and its popularity build a strong, immediate basis for understanding my actual point, so we start there.) In the world of fairy tales, fear is the primary motivator, but let’s look of the typical objects of that fear.

Beware the Big, Bad Wolf, the natural predator. Beware the cruel stepmother with an insecurity fueled by (or fueling . . . I guess that’s a question for her to cover with her therapist) her jealousy and greed. Beware the lure of vain beauty. Beware the Queen stalking you on Instagram/her Magic Mirror. Beware anyone who beckons you to follow the smell of candy. Beware general foolishness. Beware lying on your resume and beware even more impish little devil creatures who offer to do your work for you in exchange for your firstborn child.

These tales used fear to teach about the world, but pretty much all the things they teach you to fear are a) legitimate threats and b) not also the object of worship and adoration.

As a child, I was taught to fear God and to love God. In fact, the most loving thing God was supposed to have done was to take out all the anger I caused Him on His Son, described in detail more gruesome than I ever heard from any fairy tale. That’s on top of the stories of entire nations being wiped out for being bad, the firstborn children of an entire nation being slaughtered by an angel unless the families therein slaughtered a baby sheep and put the blood on their doors, or the people being turned to salt for looking back as they walked away from their home. God loved us, but watch out.

Why would God do that?

Because you deserve it, kid.

This is not new to you. You know this. I’m sure you’ve thought about it. But I’m also sure you’ve thought about it more than you know. I’m sure you haven’t needed to think about it. You learned that you were bad, you should be ashamed, and you should thank the Lord above for saving you from the gnarly punishment you deserve, and you learned that lesson so well, you could be stone-dead afraid without even thinking about it. The fear and shame are multilayered and complicated, but you can learn to drive a car through heavy traffic while you scarf down a McMuffin; you can learn to be incarcerated by fear while you whistle Amazing Grace without that heart-stopping fear even crossing your mind.

Until you find yourself yelling at your child or at traffic or your partner or the TV . . . and that’s if you’re lucky. We rarely find ourselves yelling like this, because, again, we’re not even thinking about it. The fear is automatic. We typically don’t even notice ourselves reacting in fear. We don’t hear the shouting coming from our own throats. Sometimes we hear the echoes, split seconds after the terror-driven tirades escape our lips.

Oh my god, what did I just say? 

Those are the times we feel awful, even if we no longer claim to believe in the things that originally caused us such fear.

But other times, the fear that’s been suppressed and normalized for a lifetime comes out in ways a Wicked Stepmother would be proud of, not ashamed of. When those reactions cause that frightened child who’s now all grown up to lash out at a young boy who says they’re trans or a drag queen who wants to read a story or a kid who looks like trouble that knocks on our door by mistake.

We react in fear and cause real suffering and even death, and our reaction isn’t shame. It’s righteous indignation.

We have a fear problem. And we need to address it. Because when we ensconce and infuse our souls with fear and call it love, we’re never going to know what it means to be safe and neither will anyone around us.

Whether you’re immersed in the church or organized religion or long gone from it, don’t ignore the fear that may have never left you. Unaddressed fear will never allow us to live happily ever after.

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