When I saw the commercial for the documentary film, Family Affair on the OWN network a couple of weeks ago, I stopped what I was doing to set my DVR to record the show. It is a film about a family that was terrorized by its patriarch. Sexual and physical abuse was the norm in this mixed race clan. All three of the girls were horribly abused by their father. Their mother was also brutally beaten. The youngest child, Chico David Colvard, is the director of the film.

It was clear from the commercial that the film would not be easy to watch.  I ended up viewing the recording at 2 am Sunday morning. I found myself having one-side conversations with the sisters and the aunt who attempted to defend her brother to Colvard. This film is not a typical look at the aftermath of abuse. All of the sisters have a relationship with their father. I found myself questioning their decision to allow the man who abused them back into their lives; and later, into their children’s lives.  It quickly becomes apparent that the film is not just about abuse, but also forgiveness.

The women in this film are incredible for many reasons. Most notably, their willingness to speak honestly about what was done to them as children. The other reason I find Colvard’s sisters remarkable is that they are all able to be in the same room with their father. I don’t know how they do that. My experience with forgiveness is relatively new and still quite fragile, so, I tend to be drawn to stories like Family Affair because I want to learn more about this mystical, elusive phenomenon. For a long time, (most of my life, in fact) I believed that forgiveness meant you wiped clean the slate of your offender. I saw it as complete and total exoneration. It was for me to embrace that difficult definition of forgiveness.  It was interesting to see what forgiveness looks like through the eyes of Colvard’s sisters.

I personally do not believe that forgiveness comes in the form of a single decision. I don’t think a person can forgive someone just because society tells him that he should, or because the person you need to forgive is your mother, father, brother, sister or a distant cousin. I had a conversation early last week with some friends about the mother of one of the Ohio high school shooting victims who had stated that she had forgiven the gunman. I didn’t understand how she could say that. How could she know how she would feel later that evening or the next day? How could she know how she would feel in a week? A month? Ten years from now?  May be I can’t understand it because I am not as evolved, or spiritually grounded. I find forgiveness to be stubborn, fidgety and not exactly loyal. She may come over and spend the night, but there’s a good chance she’ll be gone when you wake up in the morning.

I have been estranged from my parents for over two years. It was my choice, and it has been to my benefit. But I continue to be haunted by the anger I feel for them both. Forgiveness has come (well…is coming) because I have written about my anger and I have talked about it at length with people I trust. Still, on any given day something can happen.  One of my parents may say something insensitive to my son who still retains a threadbare relationship with his grandparents, and that’s all it will take for my thin foundation of forgiveness to collapse. Then I quickly descend into the depths of my anger, and I will have to start the work of forgiveness again from scratch. I don’t know if my experience with forgiveness is typical. If it is, I can only imagine how many times the bottom has fallen out for Colvard’s sisters. I wonder how long it took them to get to the place where they are now with their father. Seeing the sisters in the same room with their abuser gives the viewer the impression that the practice of forgiving is easy. The truth is that it’s not.

There is a reason why forgiveness is not simple. There are some hurts in life that leave a permanent mark. They cannot be prayed away, a therapist can’t alter them with cognitive therapy techniques, and drugs won’t sterilize the wounds to promote healing. Some hurts just stays with you. No matter how old you get, they are always there. You learn to manage them, yes. You learn to recognize their handiwork in your life, but the pain never leaves.  So, here’s the question I continue to grapple with: If forgiveness means letting go of the pain and anger caused by a hurtful event that can never be completely exorcised from the body or mind, is true forgiveness possible?

Colvard’s sisters continue to suffer from the wounds of their childhood. None of the three women offered any magical solutions to capturing forgiveness and strapping her to your body so that she’s there for the rest of your life. At least, I don’t think they did. I admit that I could have missed something because I was caught up in learning the mechanics of the abuse. I’m hoping that a second viewing of the film will reveal some of the women’s secrets. Or at least confirm for me that forgiveness is not a one-size fits all garment that can permanently heal all that ails us.

-Melissa Brown Levine
www.melissabrownlevine.com

_ “So, you’re an activist now? Wow. And here I am still whoring for corporate America. I don’t see how you do it man. Do you even make enough to live on?”

As Reginald and Marcus settled into a deep exchange, Viva felt herself disappear from the table.

She was beginning to connect the dots of her life; identifying her patterns. What was becoming clear through the circles and swirls, the straight arrows and crooked lines that materialized from her handiwork was a creatively designed, multi-colored, multi-textured victim mentality. Everything hurt Viva’s feelings. Her thin skin absorbed minor insults, small irritations, and the tiniest misunderstandings. Hypersensitivity wasn’t an adequate description of Viva’s talent for sopping up the seepage of emotions from every random person that crossed her path.

And that is just what she was doing as Reginald and Marcus discussed the cholera epidemic in Zimbabwe and of course Mugabe’s stronghold on the country. Their words clashed and circled the issues of the day like the gaggle of pundits Viva tuned into daily as she tried to inform herself about the world. Viva participated in those evening debates, finding it easy to yell at the TV and catapult insults at the well-dressed, highly educated teams sewing opposing rhetoric that populated every news program on cable; but holding her own with the real-life talking heads was a little different.

“Cholera is spreading into South Africa, women are still being brutally assaulted in Darfur. I know you’ve read the story about the Afghani girls who had acid thrown in their faces because they were going to school. At this point in my life man, trying to help somebody is more important than my billable rate.”

“Sure, I hear you, Reginald. I pay attention to the news, too. I understand your passion, but couldn’t you do more as a partner in a firm with high powered contacts and a huge salary? Don’t you feel like you’re cheating the people you are advocating for because you’re really only offering yourself?”

Marcus was interesting. There was an easiness about him that Viva didn’t see in Reginald unless they were both naked. Marcus appeared to have no concerns; he was comfortable in his skin. In fact, there was a peace about him just beneath his highly spirited exterior.

“Look, man, money doesn’t help a woman to know that she can change her social security number once she escapes her abusive husband. Writing a check doesn’t assure a fifteen-year-old boy that he can become a doctor or pro ball player even though his father won’t have anything to do with him. Getting involved and making a connection is what gets people over the hard stuff. Money doesn’t do that.”

Marcus shook his head. “Actually, Reginald, its money that does all of that. None of those programs would exist without funding. I still say you’re cheating them. With the type of money you pull in as a litigator, you could give away half of your salary. Hell, you could give all of your salary away if that made you happy because you could live off of your bonuses alone. Either way it’s more than you’re giving them right now.”

Viva always wondered about people like Marcus. People who believed they had been given permission to run their mouths all over other folks. She knew Reginald would be the gentleman and not make a scene. Viva also knew that if she had been feeling like her usual self she would remain quiet and just blend into the furniture. But Viva was not the same. For months she’d felt as though she’d been sloughing off her long worn shell. She felt a need to speak out more, to say those things that she simply wouldn’t in the past because it was hard enough being who she was without calling extra attention to herself.

“Now, if you’d put this no-money making venture aside and join me and my three colleagues at the firm we’re starting, then you could do something real for the sick children and the battered women and feed the hungry all over the world.”

Maybe she was wrong, but Viva thought she saw Reginald tremble just slightly. She didn’t know exactly how to interpret the involuntary motion, but she guessed that he was pissed and too big of a man to respond accordingly. She also knew that Reginald was finally living his dream after the years of law school and clawing his way up the ladder to partner after being stepped over repeatedly by his grinning, less qualified, less skilled colleagues. The work he was doing was important to him, and Marcus was completely out of line.

“I’m not going back into corporate law, Marcus. I’m done with that.” Reginald brought his wine glass to his lips. After draining it, he got the waiter’s attention and ordered a double shot of Jack. As tough as Reginald was, in his core he was amazingly kind and gentle. He needed to help people, as evidenced by the countless times he’d saved Viva over the years. She’d always thought Reginald was too sweet to have gained acclaim as one of the best attorneys in Georgia.

“Listen, man, we have everything set up. And if you came in with us, we’d be off to a great start.” Reginald quietly accepted his drink from the waiter and started pouring it down his throat without a glance in his friend’s direction. Marcus sat back in his chair and watched Reginald for a full minute before turning to Viva.

“What do you think, Viva? Do you want a man with no money and a bleeding heart, or do you want a powerful game player who can buy you anything and save the world in his spare time?”

Viva, who rarely made full eye contact with strangers, or loved ones for that matter, looked directly at Marcus. She was still and silent for a long time. Then she picked up her freshly filled wine glass and before bringing it to her lips, she answered the man’s question.

“What I want is for you to shut-up so I can enjoy my meal. Better yet, move. This is a date and you weren’t invited.”

I Need to Make Promises: A Novella and Stories is available at Amazon.

-Melissa Brown Levine
www.melissabrownlevine.com