"Why Can't You Be Discreet?"

 How non-affirming theologies re-traumatized me - a sexual assault survivor - when I came out as queer and polyamorous to my family:

I was raised in a protestant church. I was sexually abused multiple times by multiple Christian men when I was 13 to 15 years old. I did not understand that I was being abused, and I absolutely blamed myself for what was happening to me. 

When I talked to my mom about just a portion of it, while it was ongoing, I asked her what we were going to do about it. She said, "We're going to pretend it never happened."

For half my life, I lived by that. I did my best to pretend it never happened. I did this, partly, for the comfort of my family members. I did not want my parents to know about everything that had happened to me, because I did not want them to blame themselves for not protecting me. I did not want to tell any of my family members, because I did not want them to be hurt or upset or have strained relationships with people in the church. I didn't want to make my family members feel obligated to do anything on my behalf. 

For 14 years, I pretended I wasn't a survivor of sexual assault, and I would have continued to pretend that for the rest of my life if I hadn't had a daughter. 

The only reason that I told my family about one small part of my abuse history, is that I had a daughter that I was going to allow them to look after. I needed them to understand at least a little bit of my abuse history, so that I could trust them not to leave my daughter alone with the Christian men who had abused me. 

But this post is not about how my family reacted to me disclosing a piece of my abuse history. This post is about how my family talked to me afterward, in conversations about the fact that I was queer and polyamorous. 

I was formally rebuked for my "openly sinful situation". 

I feel the need to explain here that, for me, being queer & polyamorous isn't just about sex. My husband and I agreed together to have my partner come live with us. The three of us agreed to raise our five children together. We're seriously committed to providing a stable, loving home for these kids, and we've been doing that for 6 years now. My partner supported us through my husband's cancer treatment. My husband supported us through my partner's lyme treatment. We're in this through sickness and health, richer or poorer, better or worse, till death do us part. 

So when one of my family members said that my partner was not actually part of the family, I was shocked, to say the least. It was so out of touch with the day to day reality of our household. 

When another family member asked, "Why do you have to talk about it?" I responded, "Because it's my family." I'm not talking about my sex life. I'm telling the same types of cute little anecdotes about the kids. Except in my stories, the kids have two dads. Is that really so problematic? 

Yes, to my family members it was. The simple fact of my queerness & polyamory was evidence that I was a nymphomaniac and a sexual deviant. To them I was a pervert, embracing adultery and harming my children. 

You see, the problem with homophobia and non-affirming theologies is that they paint queer and ethically non-monogamous people as equally bad as rapists, abusers, and sexual predators. In non-affirming theologies, all of these sins weigh the same. They all fall into the category of sexual immorality. 

And Christians would like to pretend they never happen. 

Which brings me to the question that hurt me the most. "Why can't you be discreet?" Remember, this was asked of me by a family member who knew that I had been sexually abused as a young teen. 

I was discreet. I was silent for 14 years. I dealt with the aftermath of my abuse without asking any of them for help. I never told them when I was suicidal. I didn't describe for them the work I was doing in therapy. I didn't explain that my abuse history was the reason I wasn't raising my kids in a church. I pretended it never happened, just like they wanted me to. 

When they vilified me and painted me as a monster who enjoyed stirring up controversy - a drama queen - all I thought was, How can you think this about me, knowing everything I kept buried all these years? 

Re-traumatized almost feels like an understatement. It was earth-shattering. I don't know if my family members will ever be able to fully grasp the way their words impacted me. I am only alive today because of my chosen family - my husband, my partner, and the people in my inner circle who affirm me. 

In the book, #ChurchToo, Emily Joy Allison names homophobia and non-affirming theologies as violence. She writes, "The shame the church heaps on LGBTQ individuals is quite literally killing them." 

Sometimes I worry, though, that my family members did actually understand this. What if they did actually know just how sharp a weapon shame can be when wielded, and they meant to cut that deep? 

One of the tragedies of the situation is that these family members believed it was their Christian duty to rebuke me. They believed they were "speaking the truth in love". They felt driven to reproach me, because I was "proudly continuing to persist" in this lifestyle "without the slightest hint of a repentant spirit". (These are quotes from the formal rebuke I received.)

If I had just been discreet, then they wouldn't have had to say those things to me. They wouldn't have had to hurt me like that. If I had just been discreet, we could have all pretended it wasn't happening. See how they think? See how the harm done to me is always my fault? 

It makes me wonder if my family felt grateful that my abusers were so discreet. 

~

Some of my family members did apologize to me for the hurtful things they said. Some of my family members put in many hours of difficult conversation and no small amount of tears to try to make things right with me. I'm genuinely appreciative for those conversations and that effort. 

I'm telling my story now, not because I want those family members to apologize all over again, but because my story is not uncommon. Sexual abuse in the church isn't rare, and queerness isn't rare. 

I'm telling my story now, and I'm telling it in this way, because I've never actually said it this way before. I didn't tell my family members how impossible it was for me to disentangle the queer & polyamorous shame they were heaping on me from the sexual assault survivor shame that I'd been carrying. 

It's important for people to understand that these things are related. Non-affirming theologies are dangerous, and queer-shaming is re-traumatizing for survivors of sexual assault. 

Shame is never a helpful tool. Shame is only a weapon. The outcomes of shame are alienation, isolation, and suicide. Sexual shaming is not a tactic that Christians should employ. It is antithetical to unconditional love. 

One of my religious friends posted a reminder for the other members of her church that love with modifiers doesn't feel good, and I want to borrow that. Don't love me "despite" my identity. Don't love me "even though" you disagree with my lifestyle. Love me without modifiers.