Love is Loud

Growing up, I rarely saw my parents show affection. My mother, as any mother would, displayed affection with her own children (a hug here, a kiss there) but I never saw it with my father. When they would watch TV together, she would sit on one end of the sofa and my father on the other. When we walked outside, they would never hold hands. They rarely hugged. And forget about EVER seeing them kiss. That was most certainly taboo.I knew they slept in the same bed, as I was told early on that husband and wives do that sort of thing, but other than that, I was not sure if they really loved each other.

Since I was exposed to TV at a young age and it became a babysitting tool, I saw many shows and movies where the people on the screen 'displayed' their love. As a result, I was confused about the state of affairs in my own house. This influenced me insofar that it made me yearn for the physical and emotional love that was missing from my own life.

My father would rarely commend me on a job well done. Instead, I was criticized when everything went wrong. My mother would support me emotionally but it was hard to give each child one on one attention, especially since my siblings were only eleven months apart. She was expected to rear the children while my father was the token breadwinner. And when he came home at night, he was too tired and my time with him was minimal.

As a result, I had to touch. I had to hug. I had to kiss. I became the opposite of what my parents represented. While they taught me that all of these things were forbidden, I rebelled against this ideology. And it started from an early age. My father blamed my mother who in turn blamed the TV and society for turning me into an uncontrollable force. I think my mother sensed my need to be loved in this way, but she herself was brought up and trained to suppress these emotions.

So I hugged everyone. I hugged my teachers, I hugged our family friends, I hugged my dolls and even my crybaby sister. I started initiating hugs with my father who was taken aback with my new behaviour. His discomfort stemmed from the fact that I was hugging everyone, even strangers, without discretion.

"Why do you need to hug everyone. Its not nice," I remember him telling me. This was after my routine medical check up. When we left his office, I hugged and thanked the doctor who chuckled as a result of my exuberance.

"But Mama said we should love everyone," I insisted. My father rubbed his temples. No, I didn't know how exhausting I was back then.

"Doesn't mean you have to show it to everyone. You can love in silence."

"But how will they know if I don't show it?"

"Just smile. Smile and walk away!" I would get these two sentence lectures and then my father would give up and walk away. I skipped over to the mirror and smiled at my reflection. How does just smiling work? Since he had reprimanded me, I figured my hugging was unacceptable and I needed to rethink my strategy.

One day. my dad's younger brother came to visit. When he walked into our house, my father greeted him with a hug and he proceeded to nod to my mother. He then picked up and kissed my brother and sister. When it was my turn, I stood behind my father's chair and smiled a wide and toothless smile. Perplexed, he tried to come over and hug me, but I hid behind the chair, popped my head out and continued to smile.

"Is this how you greet your Uncle?" my father questioned. I kicked the back of his chair. My dad was a big problem for me growing up. An oxymoron. A walking contradiction. No matter what I did, I got in trouble. But I be damned to go against what he told me and I continued to smile a very crooked, crazed smile at my Uncle. He sat near my father and stretched out his arms.

"Come my dear. Hug your Uncle!" I shook my head and continued to smile, showing a few of the teeth that took forever growing in. This time, my father turned around, grabbed me from the scruff of my neck and pushed me forward towards my Uncle. I turned so not to face him and ended up receiving a 'back' hug from him. My good-natured Uncle laughed and told me to run along.

I left, confused and angry. I went outside and sat on the porch to think. My neighbour Frank was riding bike and hit the curb on his way up the driveway. He instantly fell off his bike and grabbed his knee. I barrelled down my front steps towards him but stopped abruptly. My first instinct was to reach down and hug him. Just smile and walk away, I heard my father say. He looked at me, expecting a hug--since I hugged him everyday that week for no apparent reason. But I stood still and just smiled. "What is so funny! I just hurt my knee!" he exclaimed.

"I am not allowed to hug you. I hope my smile helps," I said, feeling like an idiot. This was ridiculous. I succumbed. I reached down, pulled him up and hugged him fiercely.

"Are you ok??"

He pushed me away. "Its ok. I am ok now." But I grabbed him again and held him, hoping his pain would go away.

"Young lady! What did I just tell you about hugging!" my father yelled from the front door.

Exasperated, I turned around and yelled back:"I CAN'T LOVE IN SILENCE!!!"