Photo by Velizar Ivanov on Unsplash
‘Don’t look at that’, she screamed. ‘Material such as that is wrong, its sinful. It’s the work of the Devil. Keep looking at stuff like that, and you’ll end up in hell’.
With that onslaught I felt ashamed and embarrassed. My face redened. She left my room from where she had entered unannounced and unwelcome, and slammed the door. I knew she would not speak to myself for days. Her way of punishing her children when we got out of line, in her view. My body jumped as she slammed the door, and stomped down stairs, and again slammed the kitchen door.
To say she was angry was an understatement. But then she always seemed to be angry these days. I wonder was it because of her failing marriage. The public knowledge of her husband’s infidelity, and how she had that thrown back at her, daily in small town Ireland, by ‘helpful’ interfering neighbors and busy bodies. Minding everyone’s business but their own.
But I was a young boy, exploring my sexuality. My body fully turbo charged up with male hormones and testosterone running through my body at speed. Desire and lust coursing through every fiber of my being, very hard to control at times.
Not helped, of course, by tales of sexual assignations successfully concluded by my school friends. Which they, with great joy loved to share with their friends, including those of us who were struggling to find a partner. Then to add to that we had everyone from the priest in the pulpit, to the nuns, to the government telling us, as a nation, as a generation of children that sex was wrong, nudity was abborant. The human body was to be hidden away. Biological desires were disgusting and evil, the work of the devil, no less. Were we to indulge in such matters, it was a royal road to hell we would be set upon, and for that there was no denying.
Of course looking back now, at the clerical sexual abuse and cruelty, has come to light, it does make one look hard and fast at such situations. Dismissive and questioning of the religious do gooders. Some I’m sure mean well, and do good. But many are dysfunctional, psychotic individuals, who belong if not in long-term prison, well then in long term psychological counselling.
It does not work denying a humans perfectly natural, and God given desires. Sexual desire is as natural as the feeling of thirst, hunger and fear. It’s when it’s censored and clamped down on. Pushed under the surface, that these desires morph into the more bizarre and extreme side of sexuality, which can lead to other issues. None of them good.
I was afraid. I felt bad. Like I had done something wrong. When all I had being doing was many young boys had done for years. Looking at and enjoying the female form in various states of undress. But now because it was wrong, according to those in the know. Because it was bad, and it was banned. I wanted to see it all. Especially the more extreme. It became my mission to travel, and view as much of it as possible. The more extreme and bizarre, the better. This of course before the internet and the freedom that affords young people today. So I did travel, and I saw what I needed and wanted to see, and that was ok.
Now if I want to see such films and images, it’s all here in my home at the flick of a switch. Just open up the laptop, and there it all is. Because it’s all there now, whenever, and if ever I want it. I can take it or leave it. Mostly I leave it. But its nice to know its available at any time, to view in private, anonymously, should I wish to.
Censorship, no not a big fan.
Written in response to a writing prompt. Censorship.