My Grandparents’ Marriage Had a Suspicious Backstory. I Did Some Digging, and I’ve Discovered Something Dark.

Dear Prudence It goes against the family myth. Advice by Enter your email to receive alerts for this author. Sign in or create an account to better manage your email preferences. Unsubscribe from email alerts Are you sure you want to unsubscribe from email alerts for Jenée Desmond-Harris? Aug 03, 20261:24 PM Photo illustration by Slate. Photo by Antonio_Diaz/Getty Images Plus. Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily. Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. Submit questions here. Dear Prudence, My late grandmother was an overseas bride. She married my grandfather, who was over 20 years older than her when she was barely out of her teens. They raised six children and, by nearly all accounts, had the ideal white picket fence life together. My mom and her siblings talk about how they never heard a cross word between their parents and how their mom refused to consider dating again after my grandfather died, even though she was only in her 50s. I was always fascinated by the story, and it encouraged me to learn about my heritage and my grandmother’s native tongue. None of her children learned it. I ended up becoming pretty fluent in it. My aunt held on to some old journals that her mother kept. They span a random number of years. She gave them to me, and my family expects me to translate them. What I found was that my grandmother spent most of her life miserable and nearly suicidal. She only wanted two kids, but my grandfather wanted a big family. She wanted to attend college and was told she couldn’t. The best I can say is my grandfather never raised a hand to her, just a hundred million other little cuts to put her in her place. One of the last entries was about how she cried in relief when my two aunts got divorced the same year because she didn’t want her daughters to be like her. I know this isn’t a full picture, but the pieces of truth going against the family myth make me want to rub my skin off with a cheese grater. I emailed various passages to my friends who are native speakers and was told that I wasn’t off the mark. I now feel like I am holding a nuclear bomb. I have been telling my family I have been too busy to finish the project, but I finished it months ago. My instincts are to burn it all and bury the ashes, but I think my grandmother’s story deserves to be heard. Just not by me. What should I do? —Heritage Hazard Dear Heritage Hazard, For whatever reason—probably because her feelings were socially unacceptable at the time and she didn’t feel like anything she said would improve her situation—your grandmother didn’t want her family to know about her inner world or her harrowing experience in her marriage. I think it’s important to give some weight to that. I don’t think that it would be wrong to share what you learned with your family, but certainly her wishes make it so that you should not feel obligated to share. It would be one thing if you’d found an envelope labeled: “For my family to read when I am gone. Please distribute it widely.” Certainly, then, her story would “deserve to be heard.” But these statements were her private thoughts, and not meant for public consumption. She didn’t want people to know how she felt, and that is what tips the scales for me and makes me decide there’s no need to spread the word. It’s also worth considering that your grandmother’s level of happiness with her life might be one of those things that is not officially known, but that would not totally shock people who choose to think about the facts of the situation critically. We have a woman who married someone two decades older than her, living in a brand-new country, separated from her family of origin and everything familiar to her. This happened in an era when women had fewer rights. She had six children, which, now that our culture welcomes a little more honesty about the struggles of parenthood, we all know would be pretty tough for any woman at any time, even if she very much wanted them. Plus, everyone who’s watched a single episode of a true crime series is familiar with the idea that a white picket fence and an idyllic outward appearance do not guarantee a happy family. In fact, as the “You never would have expected him to have women locked up in the basement” narrative goes, they very often conceal a lot of darkness. You have concrete information that nobody else has, but you haven’t stumbled upon anything truly shocking or unbelievable. So take the pressure you’re putting on yourself down a notch. Still, you’ve learned something pretty heavy that changes the way you think about your family history, and it’s understandable that you’re a little (or more than a little! The feeling of wanting to rub your skin off with a cheese grater really speaks to how hard this has hit you) shaken up. While your first thought was that you had to do something with this information, the way forward may actually be to deal with how upset you are rather than figuring out how to manage what others know. The revelations and your strong reaction would be good fodder for journaling and reflection: What’s the main feeling you’re having after reading these journals? Grief for your grandmother? Anger about the way her husband and society treated her? Fear that what you thought was a recipe for a happy life really wasn’t so? What if you were to write her a letter with all the things you wish someone would have said to her when she was so unhappy? You could tell her about how she deserved better, thank her for raising the children who became her family, and explain how fondly she’s remembered by the people who came after her. You could even do something to honor her by helping women who feel powerless in similar ways. How about donating to or volunteering with an organization that helps victims of emotional abuse (even if you don’t think the “million little cuts” meets the definition, I’m sure there are some commonalities with your grandmother’s experience) or provides support to women who have chosen the path your grandmother didn’t and left marriages that make them miserable. Getting involved in any type of work to support women’s education could help others shape their lives in ways she could not. You can also decide to live differently: Speak up and be honest about any pain or struggle that you personally experience, so that your loved ones and the next generation won’t be surprised or burdened by the truth about your life. Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don‘t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication. Dear Prudence, I made the painful and horrific decision to pause contact with my beloved son “Trevor.” He’s funny, charming, bright, creative, and ambitious. He’s wonderful, except when his temper catches. I told only three people: Trevor himself, Trevor’s dad (my ex), and my husband. Otherwise, I’ve kept it private. Friends politely ask after him, and I’ve been brushing it off with “Oh, we haven’t talked recently,” but I can only do that for so long. We still live in the same area, and he’s a social butterfly. It’s likely I’ll see Trevor in public or through mutual family friends. I don’t know how to handle this. The estrangement felt like a shock, but looking back, there were signs all along. Trevor has anger issues I should have pushed harder to deal with in childhood. He went to play therapy early on. After the divorce, his dad refused to continue it. I couldn’t get him to follow the parenting agreement, so Trevor bounced between two uneven households. I was too strict, and his dad was too lenient, and we set him up for failure. At school, there was bullying behavior, but he also was valedictorian, excellent at sports, and had tons of friends. My ex said boys will be boys, so consequences for bullying only happened during my custody time. I didn’t fight it because it seemed like Trevor was otherwise doing well, and I honestly was a little scared of him as a teenager. In college, there was some questionable treatment of a girlfriend, but the charges were dropped. He was very successful academically and seemed to have tons of friends. I believed his excuses. Later on, I saw him argue with his wife in a way I didn’t like, but I stayed out of it. This spring, I walked in on Trevor violently choking his wife. I called 911, and she was in the hospital for days. She protected him and took him back. He faced no lasting legal consequences. I told his wife my door was always open if she wanted out, but she doesn’t. I sat him down and asked how he planned to change. Trevor half-heartedly went to two sessions of an anger management program and dropped out. He blew up and accused me of meddling in his marriage, and refused to ever talk about it again. He’s my baby, and I will always love him, but his behavior is horrific, and he faces no consequences. I failed him as a parent, and I can’t fix it. I have to step away. How do I handle this? —Failure Mom Dear Mom, I’m so sorry. This must be absolutely agonizing for you. This is one of those really tough situations in which you’ve done the right thing, but you’re still left heartbroken and feeling awful. I think you should seek out communities of people who are going through something similar. Because nothing is going to make this better except feeling a little less alone and a little more understood. There are a lot of support groups for parents and other family members of adult children who are incarcerated or on parole. While Trevor is obviously not involved with the criminal justice system, his behavior means he could be (or should be), and the distance between the two of you is similar to what it would be if he were behind bars. So maybe something like that could be a fit. There are also groups for parents who are estranged from their adult children, but I worry that in those groups, the parents’ behavior plays a bigger role in the conflict. Keep in mind that all is not lost. You may have planted a seed that will one day make Trevor seriously evaluate his behavior (being cut off by your own mom is serious), and you’ll never know how valuable it is to his wife to know that someone who has every reason to be biased toward her abuser sees the ways she’s being treated and knows that it is wrong. Prudie Wants to Hear From You! Readers often have great suggestions for our letter writers, occasionally disagree with a point Prudie makes, or simply want to provide some additional advice. Each week, Prudie will be replying to some of these comments and suggestions from readers, which will be featured on the site on Fridays for Slate Plus members. Write to us! Or submit a question here. Dear Prudence, Our daughters knew what they wanted to be since kindergarten. Our son, “Jared,” had a longer road. He is excellent with people and has a knack for languages. He was unhappy in college and dropped out in his second year. My husband was seriously mad and fought with Jared over this. I love him, but the man has some academic arrogance from his professor parents. Jared ended up working on cruise ships, did guided tours in Germany, and even worked at a wildlife sanctuary. He has lived a full and vibrant life and never asked a dime from us. His sisters say Jared is the most interesting person they know and love to have him around. At a recent visit, Jared announced that he got a job offer where he would be coordinating international tours with a major company. The company was also offering to pay him to finish his degree. Rather than celebrating, my husband’s response was “finally.” Jared asked what he meant by it, and my husband rambled about “wasted” time, potential, and life. My son is 35. My husband is 60. They went straight to acting like toddlers to the point that I had to hush them and keep them from making a scene. Since then, it has only gotten worse. My husband refuses to apologize, and Jared has told everyone that he was done with being the scapegoat and that the next time he will be in a room with his dad will be at the funeral. I am trying to keep the peace, but I feel like I am bailing out a leaky boat with my bare hands. My daughter is planning her wedding and blames her dad for basically throwing this bomb in her lap. She wants her brother there. She tells me Jared is serious about not wanting to see their dad again. My husband and I just go around and around and around. He is a good man and so generous with his students, many of whom are older—just not our son. Jared will talk to me but never about his father or that day. I don’t know what to do. Please help. —Proud Mom, Frustrated Wife Dear Proud Mom, The thing about being married to someone who is a jerk to your kids is that you can’t stay neutral. It doesn’t work to say that what you dislike is conflict, and you just want everyone to get along instead of acting like toddlers. By doing that, you’re telling a false story about your son’s experience, who did nothing toddlersish, and is the victim of the dad who is a jerk for no reason at all. That’s why he doesn’t want to talk to you about it. And while you hand-picked your husband and have the right to take a “That’s just the way he is” type approach to his behavior because you want to stay married, Jared didn’t choose him as his dad and doesn’t have to do that as an adult. That’s why he’s not talking to you about this. I hate to say it, but you have to pick a side. And I think you know which side I would suggest. Classic Prudie I’ve been dating the same partner for close to two years, and I’ve noticed this weird mimicking behavior. We do not live together. Whenever I am genuinely sick, he says he doesn’t feel good either. When I tell him I am anxious, he is suddenly anxious also… Never miss new Slate Advice columns Get the latest from Prudie and our columnists in your inbox each weekday, plus special bonus letters on Saturdays. Advice Dear Prudence Family