As human beings and children, we are more than just the collective make-up of our parents' DNA; we often adopt bits and pieces of their personalities, their senses of humor, their styles, their rhythms, etc., as well. And in Josje Weusten's "DOPPELGÄNGER," it's these similar traits and comparisons that cause concern for our protagonist. Over the course of Weusten's short story, we discover suggestions as to why her family is divided and why those who were once so close should now remain at a far away distance.
While walking with her mother, a daughter notices someone who reminds her of her father -- "His hair is as grey as the snow-pregnant sky above. Yet almost every other physical aspect fits the fading memory I have of him. Sharp profile: check. Powerful stride: check. Cigarette balanced on lower lip: check. The familiarity of it all throws me off so much I freeze in my steps." But while this individual's appearance is similar, it's not actually him, which is met with a sense of relief. As the narrative progresses, little hints as to why her father is no longer a part of their lives begin to reveal themselves.
One can't help but feel an uneasiness as we trudge further down the rabbit hole of learning more about this "unspeakable part" of him. But how far her father acted on his "preferences" is never fully explained, leaving us to fill in the gaps with our own imaginations. We're mainly provided with merely fragments of his backstory, such as "He had volunteered to craft the life-sized, papier-mâché manger scene they’d put up at my primary school. He even crocheted their tawny-colored outfits. They didn’t use it anymore afterward, obviously." Whatever he did, the school and those working and attending are well aware of his past behavior. So was he abusive? Had he committed any form of sexual assault against a young student? Was he fantasizing about doing so and got caught in an uncompromising position at her school? How far he actually went doesn't necessarily matter; his actions come off as despicable and disgusting all the same.
His daughter is haunted by the notion that she too will one day start having the same or similar kinds of thoughts and act out the same behaviors. "Like him, I feel compelled to tell stories to stroke people’s egos, making them think well of me. No big lies, just minor compliments, but I’m disturbingly good at it." Even though whenever we learn about someone who fantasizes about commiting sickening acts or discover those who carry out their twisted fantasies in real life, we naturally wonder how could anyone ever possibly do such horrible things? What could drive someone to hurt or take advantage of another human being like that? But she was once her "father's daughter," so she's concerned that one day, she'll turn out to be just like him. It's only natural that she would have this fear, since we often take after our parents, for better or worse.
Despite the heavy subject matter of Weusten's story, there's a sensitivity taken when describing such an unsettling, triggering topic. The word is never mentioned. The daughter can't even say it. She admits, "I will never be ready for that word. I am definitely not that word." From this, we may infer that her father had to be the absolute worst of the worst, the scummiest of all scum, and there's only one sick, repulsive monster that comes to mind -- a pedophile. Despite this subject not being an easy topic to talk about, it unfortunately remains an important discussion we must continue to have. In doing so, hopefully more light can be shown on this darkness, so more people who find themselves in these unspeakable situations either with strangers, friends, or even family members can use their voices to ask for and receive help.
