Hey Parents, Make Halloween Dangerous Again

To say that my childhood was less than idyllic would probably be an understatement. Growing up stuck between genders in a dreary small-town Catholic school would have been harsh enough if the priests would only keep their fucking hands to themselves. After eleven years of being told I was fucked to eternal hellfire by the same people who took my virginity in preschool, I was already at the end of a very short rope. Then they accused me of plotting a school shooting because I shopped at Hot Topic and refused to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance, and I began to come up with some pretty creative uses for that rope.

So, what little childhood I had was pretty much eviscerated by a mean cabal of pedophile priests and the despotic teachers and meddlesome parents who loved them, but somehow by some strange heathen miracle, Halloween remained sacred. The one night of the year that the adults couldn’t put their hands on.

One night of gloriously unfettered chaos where kids ran the streets, set free from the various stultifying codes of conformity inflicted upon us and encouraged to be anonymous freaks, scattering between the streetlights like dead leaves in a stiff breeze, dressed in any kind of drag we could get our hands on, forming fifteen-minute gangs to plot out which houses to harass for junk food first and carrying out petty acts of revenge against those who failed to give up the goods with cartons of eggs that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

There were no teachers to tell us to keep it down, there were no uniforms to strip us of our individuality and what few parents who attempted to accompany us quickly found themselves outnumbered and gloriously marginalized. You could be any gender or species you wanted to be that night and instead of being punished, ridiculed, or berated, you would be rewarded with as much fun-size chocolate as you could carry in a pillowcase.

In many ways, Halloween was my first taste of Queer anarchism, so, it should probably shock no one that I treat it like a pagan holiday and sadly it should probably shock even fewer people that it has increasingly found itself under attack over the years.

What was once one crazy night of unhinged juvenile delinquency has increasingly found itself stifled beneath a petty police state of constant supervision. Cop cars patrol the streets like buzzards and growing hordes of gossiping helicopter parents seem to be hauled up on every corner like watch-tapping pimps in white khakis. It’s a fucking bummer and this is if you’re lucky enough not to be corralled into some trunk-or-treat rodeo in an over lit church parking lot.

Much of this heavy-handed purse string bondage is the byproduct of breathless and baseless tall tales about razor blades in cupcakes and fentanyl laced Sweet Tarts that get parroted with reckless abandon by self-proclaimed journalists in the mainstream media and neckless cops looking for any excuse they can find to justify pillaging our tax dollars to facilitate their ego trips.

Just add this to Big Tech’s increasingly pervasive monopoly on all forms of basic human interaction and adults have essentially reduced childhood to an agoraphobic experience defined by constant surveillance. The sickest thing is that many parents seem to grasp that their irrational clinginess is choking their kids on a leash but they themselves feel bullied and peer-pressured by some kind of absurd groupthink into policing their own offspring.

A recent study by the University of Michigan C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital found that only 17% of parents actually believe that they live in unsafe neighborhoods but only 15% of this same group would even consider allowing their preteen children to play in the park, walk to a friend’s house, or go trick or treating without some form of adult supervision. Most of them cited being blackballed as ‘bad parents’ for motivating their admitted irrationality and it’s not like I’m entirely unsympathetic.

I realize that most of these parents are likely just victims of state facilitated fearmongering who are terrified of their children being violated the way that I was, but they need to turn off the evening news and recognize that kids don’t get abused by freedom. In fact, statistically speaking, they tend to get abused by trusted adult authority figures. The overwhelming majority of victims of childhood sexual abuse are actually exploited by parents, teachers, law enforcement, and clergy.

My parents sent me to that Catholic school specifically because of its small class sizes and the involvement of priests and teachers in the church that they considered to be a trusted extension of our own family. The result wasn’t safety, it was a world in which there was no escaping the grasp and influence of my abusers. At just five-years-old, I was convinced that not only were these trusted adult supervisors allowed full access to my increasingly confusing body but that what they chose to do with it was likely in accordance with my parents’ wishes.

I honestly believed that they had approved the molestation as punishment for my refusal to be a boy. It turned out that they were nearly as confused as I was, but the resulting terror of feeling surrounded by people attempting to police every aspect of my biology left me with little choice but to enter a state of deep disassociation that left me with complex post-traumatic stress disorder and multiple personalities.

The harsh truth here that most parents don’t want to face is that their kids are actually probably much healthier, not to mention happier, being left less supervised because adults will always be capable of harming them far worse than they could ever harm themselves or each other. So, just back the fuck off a little bit and give your children a little room to fuck up and find out.

Let them stay out all night and get sick on candy. Let them work through their body issues by playing doctor with the kid next door. Let them get stoned and skinny dip at the abandoned quarry. Let them watch bad movies that give them nightmares. Let them get even with their gym teacher with six rolls of double-ply and a dozen rotten eggs.

You know that they’re going to do this shit anyway, so, forget being a “good parent” for five goddamn minutes and let your kids be kids with other fucking kids and trust them to come to you for help when they take it too far.

I know, it’s a lot of faith to put into a cruel world, but freedom always is, and freedom is the only thing that can make this world a little less cruel. Believe it or not anarchy is actually a lot of hard work, so, maybe you could just start by letting your kids beg for candy with their friends while dressed like a serial killer for one night a year. You know, get a grip and make Halloween dangerous again.

Just a thought from a survivor of constant adult supervision.

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