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I never expected to question my own future parenting abilities after reading about a sexual assault case 3,000 miles away. Usually the stuff you need to know about parenting comes from sage quips and baby books.
They say it takes unconditional love and support. So, when push comes to shove, I just don’t know if I have what it takes to be a good parent.
There’s always so much armchair quarterbacking and there are so many hot-takes on how parents should and should not act. I’m amazed how quick people are to fire off their venomous “how dare theys” mixed with a couple “if these were my kids” and capped off with “call social services.” I don’t disagree that the stakes are high, but I just try to keep my opinions to myself. Because the reality is that I don’t know what’s best.
Parenting is nuanced, situational, and imperfect, so who am I to point fingers, question privilege, or assign shame from afar? Parents are not robots (not yet, at least), and until I stumble upon my own perfection, I won’t demand that of anyone else.
But even with that caveat, I have struggled tremendously with the way Brock Turner’s parents argued for a minimal sentence for their son, a man convicted of sexual assault.
How could righteous, nay decent human beings, support their son after committing such a horrific and depraved act? I. Cannot. Wrap. My. Head. Around. It.
And yet, isn’t that what we define as unconditional love and support? And aren’t those integral to parenting? Because I am pretty sure we all can agree that the number one parenting rule is that you cannot quit on your kid. It’s essentially the job description.
But as I’ve contemplated and pored over details of the Brock Turner ordeal (I am not shying away from calling what he did rape. He absolutely did commit rape, and assault. I used “ordeal” there because I mean to include the trial, and everything else too) I can’t help but think about how I would act as a parent in this scenario. And I truly don’t think I could be so supportive of my son.
I have no idea if that makes me morally wrong or right. What I do know is that I don’t believe in unconditional, blind support. It may seem harsh to admit this, but I promise that it has been harsher to grapple with in my mind, because this internal flow chart always ends up at “Maybe you don’t have what it takes to be a parent.” And that hurts.
I may not know them personally, but after reading their letters requesting clemency for their son, I know this: Brock Turner’s parents are awful, terrible human beings, and it offends me that technically we are the same species.
Driven by his loyalty, Brock’s dad, Dan Turner, urged the judge to be lenient on his son. He asked for probation instead of jail time, because he believed jail “is a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action out of his 20 plus years of life.” He went on to point out that his son had lost his appetite for ribeye steaks and pretzels because of the depression spiral that comes with being caught and held accountable for penetrating a lifeless body.
Brock’s mom Carleen wrote a letter too, because those “World’s Most Myopic Mom” mugs don’t come without some incredibly shortsighted beliefs. Mrs. Turner told the judge that she hasn’t been able to decorate the new family house with family pictures and that she fears for her son’s future as a sex offender because he may be lumped in with pedophiles.
THOSE ARE THOUGHTS THAT THE TURNER PARENTS HAD AND THEN DETERMINED WORTHY FOR PUBLIC RECORD.
This is where I keep losing myself. I know I would want a judge to be lenient on my hypothetical child, but how could a human overlook so much?
Maybe I am too principled to be a parent or maybe I am not mature enough yet. Perhaps even, it is just one of those things I’ll understand when I have a child of my own. But when a person takes a life of another, or ruins the life of another, or even substantially devastates the life of another, there must be actual, concrete, tangible consequences. Shame may be a destructive and consuming feeling to live with, but without true punishment, shame’s potency subsides.
I don’t question the Turners’ love for their son, but I do wonder how two such selfish and unethical people could raise proper humans.
The Turners, in their pleas to help their son, do not mention the victim or even broach the idea that she has been aggrieved. There is no attempt to understand what she is still going through. To them she does not exist, or worse, is the person who ruined their son’s life.
I mentioned nuance before, because this is a parenting tenet to me, the non-parent. I don’t believe in the Bobby Knight chair-throwing tough love regiment any more than I believe in the Miss Lippy unlimited sunshine and gold star factory. I don’t think the Turners should simply abandon their son amidst this crisis, but isn’t it worse to deny Brock’s problems? In a struggle between societal morals and family bonds, what triumphs? How much can parents disregard common ethics because of their love, or their DNA?
There is so much I don’t know. Does becoming a parent mean accepting moral blindness for everyone but your kin? I hope not, because I don’t know if I’ll ever have that capability.
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