How Ayn Rand Ruined a Childhood
This story made me sad.
Needless to say, Dad’s newfound obsession with the individual didn’t pan out so well with the woman he married. He was always controlling, but he became even more so. In the end, my mother moved out, but objectivism stayed. My brother and I switched off living at each parent’s house once a week.
It was odd growing up, at least part-time, in an objectivist house. My father reserved long weekends to attend Ayn Rand Institute conferences held in Orange County, California. He would return with a tan and a pile of new reading material for my brother and me. While other kids my age were going to Bible study, I took evening classes from the institute via phone. (I half-listened while clicking through lolcat photos.)
[…]
From what I understood of his favorite capitalist champion, any form of altruism was evil. But how could that kind of blanket self-interest extend to his own children, the people he was legally and morally bound to take care of? What was I supposed to do, fend for myself?
The answer to my question came on an autumn weekend during my sophomore year in high school. I was hosting a Harry Potter-themed float party in our driveway, a normal ritual to prepare decorations for my high school quad the week of homecoming. As I was painting a cardboard owl, my father asked me to come inside the house. He and his new wife sat me down at the dinner table with grave faces.
“We were wondering if you would petition to be emancipated,” he said in his lawyer voice.
Read the whole thing, which is just heartbreaking.
Of course, Ayn Rand is just the hook to this article. The story isn’t unique. I think that most people have lost someone in their lives because they gave themselves over wholly to some ideology, whether it be a philosophy, a religion, or even political ideology. As humans, we have a powerful hunger for meaning and an attraction to story. And it’s not unusual for people to become so attracted to an idea or story that it begins to encompass their very identity.
[continue reading at A Practical Heretic]
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