Witness My Fury:
I sincerely apologize if I came across as smug or condescending, I assure you that was not my intention. I didn't include my reasons for leaving since I wanted to keep my post short as possible and merely convey a point: my mom and brother were toxic and had I still conformed to her rules my life would have turned out to be a mess, that much is clear.
But since you're sure I had little or no insight myself, let me tell you my reasons.
I grew up with Zulus and Xhosas in the very rural midlands of Kwa-Zulu Natal, South Africa. My parents both had jobs which kept them away from home from 6am to often times as late as 10pm on week days. To help around the house it was common white South African practice to hire black maids to do house work and take care of the kids.
In Zulu culture it is customary for women to share child care amongst all the mothers of the clan which includes breast feeding.
Our maid, Lena Hlatswayo had a son my age, Kahleka. Since she was breast feeding him I too was breast fed by her, forming a very powerful bond between the three of us. Because of the way I was raised I had a very different view of blacks compared to the vast majority of other white South Africans under the apartheid regime. By far most of my friends were Zulus, spending almost all my free time with them except on weekends when my parents were home and we'd do things together. I saw NO DIFFERENCE between myself and a black person, I considered Lena more of a mother to me than my own mother could ever be.
How my insight began:
Every white JW I knew to a man was a bigoted racist, constantly using derogatory terms, minimizing their humanity and generally regarding them as slightly above apes. This made no sense to me because the religion kept talking about love and how all humans were equal in the Org. I was about eight when I asked my mom why all the whites treated the blacks so poorly and her response was, "They need to be kept in their place. They are different to us. They are lazy and just like when you're lazy, you make us angry and they make us very angry. They are good people but they have to be kept in check."
As if she noticed her words had stung, she quickly added, "But our black brothers and sisters are a lot more clever than the other kaffirs".
To this day that conversation is still vivid. As if that was going to make me feel better and suddenly grasp some sort of understanding (kaffir is a South African derogatory term for blacks like the "n" word,in the US).
Rampant racism causing a deep emotional conflict in me was my primary reason for challenging the Org as the "Truth". Witnessing and elder who I loved and looked up to (I had a crush on his gorgeous wife) have extra-marital sex at a get-together compounded my doubts and once I learned of my sister's rape it was all over. Incidentally, even at a young age I never bought into the life after death thing. Growing up around rural violence, witnessing death on a few occasions I stared at a few corpses as a kid. I would look imto their lifeless eyes and try to fathom where their life went, the same way I would with a dead animal. It simply occurred to me that they were one and the same and since animals didn't have a soul I couldn't see how humans could. Their deaths were identical.
That Sunday which was the first day I refused to attend meetings I recall well. My mom was getting ready to go to the KH and I had my fishing gear in my hands.
"Aren't you going to the meeting." She asked.
"No," I replied, "I'm going fishing."
"Don't you love Jehovah anymore?" She aslmost cried.
"Yes, that's why Im not going to the meeting and going fishing."
I never attended anything remotely Org related again.