Unpacking Secrets: How Classic Storytelling Reveals Hidden Truths in Suburban Memoirs
The happening-truth, or, the facts of what actually occurred, were typical enough to disguise the abuse from outsiders. I was raised in a 2,600-square-foot colonial with half-brick, half-siding exterior, painted white with green shutters. My parents talked about credit scores as if they represented moral worth. We ate dinner as a family every night.
Listing the facts feels like being complicit in the gaslighting. It feels like filing a police report for the crime of parenting. The container doesn’t fit the contents.
