Children’s Sexuality: Why do Adults Panic?

Abstract

My father gave my sister a book on Freud for her thirteenth birthday. My mother, however, was furious and screamed and shouted at him, saying that it was totally inappropriate. His action, and her reaction, fascinated me, because for all the covert abuse that went on in our family, rarely had I witnessed such overt anger and confrontation as this. What was so terrible about Freud, I wondered, that could provoke such intense feelings? I (aged ten) saved up all my pocket money and went to the drugstore to buy my own copy of Freud. But the local drugstore had no Freud, only Adler. Still, the blurb on the back said Adler knew Freud and had worked with him, so I bought it. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. Where was the scandal, the shock, the titillation? All I could glean was obscure talk about power. What a waste of money, I thought. Later, I managed to sneak a read of my sister’s Freud when she was away for the day. Somewhat more interesting, with references to penises and faeces, I still had trouble understanding what all the fuss had been about.