I’ve been silent for too long, uncomfortable and reluctant
to deal with my anger. The article in
the Huffington Post a few weeks ago about the experience of a sexual assault
survivor, the response she heard from a college administrator, “I thought it
was reasonable for him to penetrate you for a few more minutes if he was going
to finish.” The comment from Brock
Turner’s father, prison would be “a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of
action.” The growing number of rape cases where the interests of the
perpetrator are more important than justice for the victim/survivor. The sexual
assault confession of DT and the growing number of reports from women and men
about their/our experiences of sexual abuse and sexual assault.
I have come a very long way in the healing process. The
anger at my father’s molestation (from around 12-18 months until I left for
college) and my mother’s failure to protect me and denial that anything
happened, has less and less power to limit my activities and my freedom. Yet I
still struggle, and probably always will, to move beyond my identity as a
clergy incest survivor. I still live
with PTSD and its effects on my energy, my ability to work, my ability to take
care of myself. And it’s clear from my
reactions lately that I still have a lot of anger in me, about the ways so many
men believe their sexual needs trump (pun intended) the needs of the women they
violate. About the ways judges and administrators consider the future of young
rapists more important than care for those of us who live with the forever
effects of being violated. About the huge number of men who think sexual assault
can be dismissed as “locker room talk,” machismo (by a “clergyman”—Pat Robertson,
no less). About the pain so many of us feel because our experience is denied or
perpetrators excused and our pain and anger are belittled.
I have come a very long way in the healing process. I have worked extremely hard in therapy and
“doing the inner work” to find healing and most days I am able to live well and
enjoy life. I’m at a place in my life where I no longer need to focus so much
energy on healing—but I’m realizing that my desire to write (since I was in
high school) requires the energy of my anger: the content of what I have to
write has to include using what I have learned as a way to collaborate with God
in the world’s healing. I need to join
my voice to those who are increasingly outraged by the indifference and
injustice and acceptance of violence against women as “normal.” That is one
form my writing will take. There are
other forms—stay tuned!
I also need to share with other survivors who need to know
that the work of healing is worth all the effort. I need to share with those
who work with survivors what has helped (or hindered) my healing
experience. But most of all, I need to
share how my relationship with God has sustained me throughout the
process. Yes, I was angry at God at one
point for “allowing the abuses to happen,” and I needed to go through that anger in order to come to
understand that God never “allows” evil—but that we are all free to choose to
do evil. And the power to refrain from doing evil, to choose to be a force for
healing in cooperation with God, has its roots in God’s love, without which we
would cease to exist.
God’s love, the love of those who have supported me along
the way, the love for myself which has slowly grown over the many years of
letting in God’s love, has been tremendously freeing of the pain that was the
result of the abuses. I am who I am not because of what my parents did, but
because of what God has done to heal my pain.
