Sanctified Surveillance
Correspondence from the Anxious Archives
“Archivists use the word ‘archive’ in three different ways,” I tell students. “And pressing the archive button in your email inbox isn’t one of them.”
The conceptual “archive” is a collection of physical or digital objects that are collected, organized, and preserved because they have enduring value. Although this may shock delicate ears—archivists discard more than we keep. Most of the email corralled by the archive button has no enduring value. It’s digital trash.
I won’t deny that my email correspondence is a hot mess—see the adage about the cobbler’s children—but some emails have merited organization and preservation in my email archives. Many of them were sent to the first email address I created when I was 9 years old: abbi_brown@juno.com.
I pull up an email from my mother with the innocent subject line “Random thoughts.” Dated November 8, 2004, it’s a time capsule of my mother’s anxieties and fixations.
“Abbi—” the email opens with rapid-fire questions, “Just read your Xanga - What's Octember Fest? What booth? What project? What special breakfast?”
People who meet my mother often comment on her interrogatory style of conversation. There was no such thing as privacy in my house—I was trained to answer all questions no matter how intrusive.
It was my first semester of college and Mom was anxious about how I would manage the 16+ hour trip from Illinois to New York. Following her instructions, I went through the student directory and emailed every female student with a New York home address, but it was three weeks out and I hadn’t found a ride.
“Have you exhausted your possible rides list? If so I'll call the parent's relations lady and see if she'll give me the list for VT and PA. If you came home with Audrey, could you catch a ride back with Jennifer if we got you as far as P'burg. Obviously the closer the better. Does Jennifer have any more room in her car to take Emily? Does Emily have a better offer? What about Amber? She's not going home because of finances and a music commitment? Could she come home with you? Did you tell Jennifer that we would pitch in on gas? We don't mind you riding in a mixed car as long as you aren't the only girl.” *
We don’t mind you riding in a mixed car as long as you aren’t the only girl.
My mother wasn’t worried about my safety—she assumed all Wheaton students were upstanding—but she was very concerned about the Appearance of Evil. Growing up, there were occasions when a dad might drive me home after I babysat his kids. I was always instructed to sit in the back seat (passenger side) to avoid the Appearance of Evil. It’s unclear who would observe this mixed car Appearance of Evil on the desolate Indiana tollway, but you couldn’t be too careful.
After the pressing logistics, Mom launches into all the news that she considers important.
“BASIC went well. About 30 students went from CFC. Several were baptized with the Holy Spirit and spoke in tongues. 3 were water baptized in the pool there.”
My dad was the college pastor, so the number of college students who attended a regional church conference was a measure of his success. He could stack on bonus points for baptisms and speaking in tongues.
“Be praying for Mrs. Limon. She had a miscarriage about 2 months ago and had to have a 2nd D&C today. Grace is going over tomorrow to help with the children at lunch time as Mr. Limon is teaching. Be praying for Mrs. Delucca's Mom. She has had lung cancer and they removed one of her lungs on Nov. 2. She now has pneumonia in her other lung. She is on a ventilator to breath and they have had to put a temporary tube in her throat. I don't know if she is saved.” *
Conveniently, you could spill almost any intimate health information if you stirred “this is a prayer request” into the tea. “Be praying for…” was my mother’s standard opening for all manner of confidential information.
I’m not sure if I responded to this email—this was before the advent of threaded email replies—but I can imagine my response. I would have replied in detail to every question and then reported on the personal lives of my hallmates.
Because that’s what we did in my family.
No boundaries.
No privacy.
*Names changed for privacy, obviously.
Ah yes, the old “Appearance of Evil” tactic, whereby they could rule almost anything out of bounds and tighten the reins of control. I know it well. What a life. But we made it through. We’re making it through.
I’m pretty new to your Substack, Abbi. How long have you been out of this? Do you have any kind of relationship with your family?
I did the Gothard thing 20+ years ago and my family is finally all out. We only had three kids since the reversal didn’t take, 😬 and my parents were pretty chill by cult standards. There’s still residual stuff but it’s better now than it’s ever been.