My parents met at a peace march in 1965. They participated in the first be-in in Victoria, British Columbia. My mother was a naïve art-student daughter of upwardly mobile suburbanites; my father was a long-haired, bearded son of Alberta farmers. He was building a boat with his brother and had plans to sail around the world, while my mother was going to be a gypsy peddler on the streets of Victoria. Then my mother got pregnant with my brother, and my parents moved to a little island off the west coast of B.C., built a shelter, and started a garden. In 1969 my brother was born. I was conceived in Mexico and born in 1972 at home in the one-room cabin, with only my father and three-year-old brother present to help my mother.
Growing up, it was entirely normal to run around naked, have communal parties, lick my dish, wear hand-me-down clothes, use an outhouse, and live without electricity or a telephone. Money was pretty scarce, but both my parents were around most of the time, and I got to do whatever they were doing—getting firewood, gardening, doing yoga, cooking, milking goats, building things, or just taking it easy at the end of the day.
Early on I got the impression that mainstream society was messed up, and my folks had figured out a better way to live. Running around naked was normal and natural and right in the family or at the local beach, but not in town. Licking my dish, having my elbows on the table, and leaving the table whenever I wanted was all right at home but definitely not at my grandma’s house. Sexual exploration between adults and children was presented as a logical outcome of my childish curiosity about naked bodies, but my parents made it clear that “other people wouldn’t understand.” Growing and smoking marijuana was also a natural part of life but also not to be talked about with anyone outside the family.
As I grew older, this dichotomy between some of our family values and mainstream values became confusing. I have been forced to decide for myself which values make sense and which do not.
My hardest struggles have been (not surprisingly) around money, sex, and drugs. Maybe everyone finds these issues difficult, since society itself gives out very contradictory messages. Being “raised hippie” both added to my confusion and allowed me more freedom to make my own choices.
My brother has chosen to focus on making money so he can “retire early.” As a teenager, I decided I was not interested in pursuing either the standard forty-hour work week or working at a job I did not enjoy and living for the weekend. Consequently, I have a lifestyle similar to that of my parents: marginal money from work I enjoy with lots of time for other projects and pastimes (including parenting).
Unfortunately, I have also pretty much accepted my parents’ equation that enjoyment and quality of life go down as income goes up. Obviously, the equation isn’t necessarily true. I don’t even know if it’s true for me. I do know that my upbringing led me to believe that I could either have time to do things I enjoy or I could have money to buy things I want, but not both time and money.
In terms of sex, I sometimes found it difficult to have clear boundaries as a teenager and young adult. I love to flirt, and for a long time assumed that sex was the logical consequence if I flirted and turned someone on. Therefore, I tended to go along with whatever the other person wanted and was often out of touch with what exactly I wanted. I have gradually gained confidence around intimacy and now have a wonderful and understanding partner that I feel comfortable communicating with about sex.
Growing up, the only time that I got the message that marijuana, mushrooms, or LSD were “bad” was in junior high school—far too late, considering that I had already experienced their effects. Once again, I have had to try to figure out for myself what makes sense in my life. Of course, the subculture of teens and young adults who drink, smoke, and toke added another layer of confusion to the whole issue. Essentially, I know that such drugs do affect my health and my mental abilities, but I don’t agree with the standard North American approach of waging “war on drugs,” as it does little to decrease usage and much to increase risk.
All that said, I’m pleased and proud to have been raised by hippies. My parents made difficult choices and have had to see how their decisions affected my brother and me. I feel that I chose my parents to raise me, and I haven’t met anyone I would rather have as parents. My parents treated me with a lot of respect for my intelligence, creativity, and individuality. They didn’t talk down to me, and made every effort to teach me about the things I was interested in, and to allow me to make decisions for myself. Given the state of our society, it is inevitable that I have challenges and struggles to work out. Everyone does, regardless of how they were raised. At least I think I got a head start in thinking for myself.
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