ABSTRACT
I began this book with a description of my parents and how deeply immersed they were in a Catholic habitus which disabled them emotionally and sexually. I was brought up in an ethical regime that emerged from a culture of death and self-sacrifice. There were crucifixes everywhere to remind us of Christ’s suffering and death. The body was a source of awkwardness, guilt, shame and embarrassment. It was something to be hidden rather than admired and adorned. It was a society of guilt, secrecy, darkness and oppression. To have “bad” (read sexual) thoughts was a sin. To take pleasure in them was a mortal sin. Being concerned with oneself, particularly one’s body, looks and beauty, was seen as the path to self-obsession. It was not just vain, it was profane. To look sexually attractive, to be erotic, to be sexually stimulated, to gaze at another longingly, were all seen as sinful. It was a deeply repressive society in which the sexually disobedient and deviant were humiliated, demoralized and often incarcerated. All of this led to peculiar sentimental relationships. There was love in my family, but it seemed to mirror the form of love that one would find in a seminary or convent. It was perhaps not unexpected that in such a habitus, Catholic parents like mine would have difficulty touching and hugging.
