
Since publishing Brave, I have been overwhelmed with gratitude for all those who have supported my work. I felt the compassion and encouragement. I listened to hundreds of stories and wrote Trauma in the Pews to help ministry leaders understand those they serve who are impacted by trauma. I saw many embrace this understanding.
That work will continue, but today I speak for survivors and survivor advocates who feel betrayed by wide swaths of the church that I have hoped would gain a better understanding of the impact of trauma through my work.
As part of that work, I had such hope that the church as a whole would begin to address the harm done to survivors—not just by the abusers, but also by those who stood by and did not hold the abuser accountable. It has been six years since Brave was published in the middle of the #MeToo movement and yet, it seems to have mattered little.
I don't know how many kind and gentle ways I have tried to explain that voting for someone who brags about sexually abusing women is not in any realm of the imagination what Jesus would do. At the end of the day—every day—I will advocate for the survivors of sexual abuse. I see you. I understand how painful this day is. I have cried my own puddle of tears and I will be processing this grief for a long, long time.
I hoped that my vulnerability in being so open about the impact of sexual abuse would make a difference. Instead, the survivors who often struggle to believe God loves them have once again been told what happened to them does not matter.
Now I am picking up the shards of my shattered hope off the floor. My Facebook feed, comments, and messages were filled with the hurting voices of survivors who feel betrayed. If this was not true for you, that should cause you to wonder why.
I know many of my friends will say, "Janyne, we do care about survivors. This was not about that. It was political." You may have had good intentions, but it caused many to suffer today—survivors specifically. Good intentions can still cause harm which was a major point that I made in Trauma in the Pews.
If sexual abuse is not a part of your story, it is unlikely that you could even imagine the impact. It would take great intentional effort to develop a level of empathy that would be necessary to understand how this election has impacted survivors. If the harm that has been done was unintended, then the church will be willing to do the work to listen to the voices of survivors and do better. That process will be uncomfortable but when we know better we can do better. I still believe that.
Read this carefully: Unless the Christians who voted for an abuser, begin to put forth this kind of effort going forward, survivors have every reason to believe that their pain was irrelevant and always will be. I want to believe that this matters to the good people I know.
In the communities that welcomed me while healing my story of sexual abuse, I have witnessed compassionate responses from those who have worked to understand the impact of trauma. Like Mr. Rogers, I watched for the helpers. The therapists, the counselors, advocates, and yes, pastors. There are not enough helpers for the grief that is traveling in waves across the nation. It is essential that all who truly desire to show compassion, do the work to understand its impact.
My Message to Survivors
All I have learned during these ten years of healing enables me to give those of you who are hurting permission to grieve and heal. My calendar quote for November is this: "By allowing her light to shine, she gave others permission to do the same" (Kelly Rae Roberts).
I give permission for you to grieve. I grieve out loud to give others permission to do the same. I grieve out loud because, for most of my life, I was silenced.
Have you been silenced? I was silenced by church culture (mostly unintentionally harmful) that told me to leave my story in the past, my fear of anyone ever knowing I was a survivor, toxic spiritual positivity that shamed me for having normal human emotions like fear and anger, and the diminishment of the biblical practice of lament (grief over loss and pain—not self-hatred over my "sin").
Yes, I was harmed by abuse, but not ever understanding the impact of trauma or feeling safe enough to access professional help (specifically as a Christian woman in leadership roles) did the most damage.
Today I give you permission to seek the help you may need.
It is normal to feel betrayed and unprotected. I have no platitudes to offer. God is not in control when people choose to support those who blatantly state their intentions to harm others. Despite this, God has been building a support network in anticipation of what I have seen coming for a decade (likely, much longer). If you need a village, let me know. God has been preparing villages.
Today I give you permission to look for new villages if you do not feel safe in the ones you are currently in.
My litmus test is this: Is this a village that is working hard to love others unconditionally and are they—or would they be—willing to become more knowledgeable about the impact of trauma?
The willingness to deeply understand the responses to this election by those who have experienced sexual abuse is the litmus test both for communities and individuals. This is true also for those who have been traumatized by the disregard and demonization of the marginalized. Survivors can link arms with many others who feel betrayed. While my focus is on survivors, my views include all who are being harmed.
Survivors, you can make choices. Do not listen to those who attempt to diminish your pain. You can find villages that will support you. There may be difficult days ahead but know that your voice is important. It matters; you matter. We can gracefully refuse to be silenced any longer.