THE DARK MOTHER AND PATRIARCHY
"Both have a stake in keeping all men obedient and subservient and blissfully ignorant, subsuming individual identity to something out of 1984." Larry Pesavento

April 2000

Sometimes, when I'm writing, I feel like I'm in a segment of the X-Files. At times, I get a surrealistic feeling similar to watching a Twilight Zone episode. Sometmes, when I'm counseling, I feel like I'm in the movie, The Night Of The Living Dead, trying to convince a man that he has been taken over by alien forces. It doesn't help when I get a blank, thousand yard stare in return. Then I start wondering who is really out of touch here. Which one of us doesn't get it.

The first 5 chapters of my book have to do with separation from the mother complex, the good mother inside, gone bad from overmothering. She is hidden in the folds of our psyche, trying to convince us she doesn't exist, while at the same time running and ruining our lives. She does her best to secretly try to keep us a boy, so she can remain in control. She does her best to keep us terminally unconscious.

The problem is, she's so good she often convinces me she doesn't exist. When I seem to harp on her existence and her power I sometimes feel like I'm raving. When I bring the issue back up in this column I wonder if I'm delusional and obsessed. The blank stares I get don't help. Neither does the difficulty I have in getting this concept across in words. And, of course, it is no longer politically correct to talk about dark mothers and regressed men.

Then there's the problem I come across when the issue comes up in counseling with men. Sometimes it comes up when men read these chapters. Sometimes the subject comes up in passing, when talking of family history. Most of the time I bring it up to try to explain the possible causes of certain regressive behaviors. This is where the X-Files comes in. This is where I start feeling like I'm raving.

This is not to say that these men are dumb. Just the opposite. These men are intelligent, sincere, and motivated. And that's when I start doubting myself. Even after years of inner work a man may still feel he separated from mother long ago, not recognizing the dark mother lurking behind his psyche. He may still not recognize how he has transferred this dark mother to his wife, girlfriend, boss, corporation, school, even favorite bar. He still may not see how hard she is working to keep him in the dark about the psychological world around him.

So she's either real good or I'm real crazy. I keep hoping she's just real good, though I hate to give her so much credit. I'm also hoping that some psychologists I really respect, Jung and Johnson and Hillman and other archetypalists, are also not crazy and delusional.

If she is there and weaves a spell of unconsciousness, then she is working hand in hand with the patriarchy. Both have a stake in keeping all men obedient and subservient and blissfully ignorant, subsuming individual identity to something out of 1984. Both have a stake in facilitating the dark side of community, creating conformity and comfort. The patriarchy does this in the marketplace. The dark mother does her work in private, in relationships and in secret ways of soothing painful feelings.

Unfortunately, I know what it is to covet the prizes of this patriarchal life. I also know I often seek the comfort of common opinion and collective recognition. I know I do not like to think that my seeking the comfortable may be harmful to my psychological health, but very pleasing to the dark mistress. I also know I crave female attention, at times, and a woman's approval to bolster my manhood. At times, I have become the third in this unholy trinity.

Many times when I am writing I feel what's the use. What's the use in exposing her. I sometimes picture a while world of blank stares. I feel deflated. I am often tempted to take down my writing tent, unplug my computer, and not think about it. I start thinking of starting another seminar for the wealthy on how to be guilt free after getting a seven figure inheritance.

Then I figure, if she does exist, she's winning. And I realize she only has power when I collude with her by giving in to these yearnings for the blissfully ignorant life. She is taking advantage of my secret but boyish desires. She is manipulating me. Then I get pissed. The warrior in me gets the adrenaline going. So I might rave. At least it's conscious raving. At least it's the raving of a man who won't give in to the Mother or Father of the Living Dead.

Larry Pesavento, Copyright © 1999- 2000  

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