On November 6, I despaired that I wouldn’t be able to write the type of stories I believe in. But here I am on the day that election was certified working on a novel I thought I wouldn’t be allowed to write. It has all the things that would make Speaker Mike Johnson ask his son to keep him accountable. Of course, there’s bondage. And tarot, which would be enough to put this book on the kindling pile. But the most subversive part is how it talks about the ways we enslave ourselves.
The card central to my story is the Eight of Swords. In tarot, the Eight of Swords represents the bondage we impose on ourselves. Biddy Tarot lists the following meanings:
- Upright: Negative thoughts, self-imposed restriction, imprisonment, victim mentality
- Reversed: Self-limiting beliefs, inner critic, releasing negative thoughts, open to new perspectives
While outside forces, such as religion and family expectations, seek to impose control on us, we’re the ones who decide whether to accept this control or reject it. All of the characters in my book make decisions on how much control they’re willing to accept, and they face consequences for accepting or rejecting this control:
- For my main character’s love interest, she had to escape the control of her ex-husband when he nearly killed her. But she had to leave behind her family, her home, her faith, and everything she knew to start a new life in California.
- For my main character’s father, he tried to escape the control of a hateful, abusive father, but guilt caused him to crawl back.
- For one of my main character’s friends, suicide was the only way he could escape the control of his religion and family.
And my main character finds himself forced to decide whether he will stay controlled by the expectations of his family and religion or be with the woman he loves and who helps him embrace his true self. This is not an easy decision for him, and the costs of either choice are painful.
The story needs to be told now because we as a country chose to be the woman in the Eight of Swords. We bound ourselves because we were afraid to reach out to others. We blindfolded ourselves because we didn’t want to see the truth. Being bound and blindfolded also gives us excuses: “I didn’t see that coming.” “There was nothing I could do to prevent it.” “I couldn’t do anything to help. My hands were tied!” But freedom is frightening. It means taking responsibility and living with the consequences of your choices. It’s much easier and more comfortable to wrap yourself in ropes and let someone else take control while you play the victim.
I’m critical of evangelical Christianity in my book, the same way I was in The Remainders. (In fact, a character from The Remainders is referenced in my story.) As an outsider, I see how it fosters control and victimization. It’s easier to blame the devil than take responsibility for your own bad judgement. It’s easier to order women to conceal their skin and curves than show respect and exercise self-control. And it’s much easier to obey a leader (religious or political) than make decisions for yourself.
Escaping from emotional bondage is hard. And just like escaping physical captivity, it takes mental and emotional strength. It requires letting go of what offered you safety and comfort. It also requires you to embrace discomfort as you find your path, make mistakes, and discover truths about yourself you had refused to face.
I experienced a similar process in getting to a healthy weight. It meant retiring from foods I loved, making exercise a daily routine, donating lots of clothes (including some nice ones) to Goodwill, and seeing myself as a thin person. It was worth giving up what was comfortable and familiar to have a healthier, active, and longer life.
I write this book in the hope that we as a country will make that decision too. But first, we must recognize the bind we put ourselves in. When we’re ready to loosen the ropes and take off the blindfold, we can build the type of future we want.