#I grew up in a high control evangelical sect

[laurensaysthings]

The Church

I can only speak for myself and the specific sect of Christianity I survived, and I believe wholeheartedly that every human being has the right to decide their own beliefs about existence. But I also believe that there are many others like me who have been traumatized by the weaponization of the unique brand of conservatism that occurs within certain Christian communities. 

Here is my truth.

I grew up attending an Evangelical Free Church in a small, predominantly white farming town. I was a depressed, anxious kid. As a licensed mental health professional, I would probably schedule a kid like me for twice-a-week sessions. But back then, I was praised as an overachiever. Middle school was my time to shine. I was 0.01 points away from being 8th grade valedictorian. I was involved in sports, yearbook, student council, youth group, guitar, piano and voice lessons. But buried under all of that was a mile-thick layer of insecurity and crippling fear of losing a Kim Il-Sung level of control over my existence.

Though I was surrounded by adults who purported to care about my “spiritual well-being,” not once did anyone acknowledge or seemingly even notice my many depressive episodes or extreme anxiety, let alone suggest I receive treatment. Instead, I was pushed to do more within the church. I led worship for the youth group and small-group Bible studies for other teen girls. All the while, I was broken, often suicidal, seeking out external affirmation as a way to subvert my lack of self-knowledge and self-worth. 

Women weren’t allowed to hold higher leadership positions in my church, so the highest achievement I could hope for beyond what I’d already attained was to land a husband. A man’s commitment to a me as a woman was the highest form of validation.   

And in the pursuit of being “chosen” as a wife, the greatest honor, I had to prove myself to be worthy in a very specific way. It was drilled into my head that the highest form of integrity a woman can have is sexual purity. This meant not having sex before marriage but also, not leading men astray in my daily life. Mostly this meant I had to dress conservatively, because I was taught that men having sexual thoughts about me was my own fault only. I was Eve and every man on earth was Adam. He only ate the apple because she suggested it. 

In retrospect, this ideology is obviously why it took me 4 years to share the fact that I’d been raped with my Christian relatives. In fact, I still struggle with the vestiges of this ideology in my romantic relationships. How do you build an equal partnership when you are responsible for your partner’s actions and even their private thoughts in addition to your own? What an impossibly heavy burden to carry. 

Meanwhile, I was never taught about consent and bodily autonomy. The focus was only on sexual purity, not on what it means to have agency over your body and your sexuality. “True love waits” was the mantra indoctrinated into us as teens. Just don’t have sex, then get married, then have sex. That was the limit of the education about sexuality. Men have the right to your body because men, after all, are the head of the church and the household. The pain of this still lingers in my bones. I am still grieving over what I’ve let men get away with and what I’ve blamed myself for, even recently. 

The first example I can recall happened when I was 16. I had dropped out of high school after freshmen year because my depression had become untenable. The excuse I used was that I was spiritually vulnerable to being led astray by my classmates’ drug use and sexual escapades. But ultimately it was as simple as this: I was mentally ill and not receiving treatment. 

I was in so much pain, and I couldn’t share this struggle with my fellow Christians, my community and support system, because even at age 14, I “understood” that being in emotional pain was merely a result of personal moral failings. I just had to be a better Christian, pray harder, be more involved in church activities. Then I would feel better. 

I was homeschooled my sophomore year, and then I enrolled in courses at a local community college for my junior year. I tried to hide my age from my classmates (which in retrospect was incredibly silly, considering I looked like a child). There was a man (age 19 or 20) with whom I had a few classes in common that first year, and he took an interest in me. You will recall that my entire education about relationships up until that point was limited to the church’s overtures about the importance of my purity and my responsibility for men’s purity, so I was deeply confused by this man’s behavior toward me. 

He sexually harassed me for months. It was so bad that at one point, a professor noticed and called me in to his office to ask me if I wanted to report the man to the school’s administration. But of course I didn’t because it was my fault. If I could just be more conservative, it would stop. I started dressing in baggier clothing, trying to talk to this man about Jesus so he too could be saved. I spent MORE, not less, time with him in this pursuit. He offered me a ride home one night, and I would have accepted had it not been for the intervention of my parents and a good friend I had at the college. Who knows what would have happened had I gotten into his car that night. 

A few days after I refused the ride home, he changed completely. He started mocking me, telling me how worthless, ugly, disgusting I was. I will never forget one night at the end of class as we were leaving, he turned around and, in front of all of our classmates, said to me, “No one will ever touch you.”

Thinking back, I am so deeply sad for how much I internalized that sentiment. Being desired by a man, no matter how awful his behavior, was the ultimate compliment. And even though the church sought to curb sexuality as a means of control over women, it ironically had the opposite effect. Suddenly, as a result of this man’s harassment, I understood that the easiest way to get attention from men was through my sexuality. 

The church taught me that it is irrelevant for a woman to be intelligent and compassionate and successful, because what matters most is marriage and children. Sure, you can have a career, as long as you have a family first. College was a means to an end: attend a good Christian school to find a good Christian husband.

Here is the impossible paradox inherent in the church’s lessons: attracting attention from men means you are impure and unworthy of committed love BUT your worth is determined by a man paying you attention and choosing to commit to you. And so we have the classic conundrum of the “innocent slut.” Of course I know this impossible standard exists outside of the church, but the church certainly does a good job of reinforcing the mixed messages women receive all day every day in a constant barrage of advertising. 

Imagine if we let women's integrity be defined in the complex, holistic ways we calculate men’s integrity. Of course that would require women to have power and bodily autonomy. It would require women’s worth to be defined outside of the context of men’s approval. In fact it would have nothing to do with men at all. But in the church, I learned that men are the center of everything. I can support them and play a role in their agendas, but they hold the power.

Fortunately here is where my own beliefs started to diverge from those I was steeped in. When I left home at 18, I moved to a new city and surrounded myself with incredibly strong women. They were funny, creative, brilliant. Some of them were even Christian, which actually helped during this transition period. Quite frankly, these women saved me. 

Through their relentless friendship, I learned that even though I was broken, I was still worthy of unconditional love exactly as I was. I didn’t need to change or hide my truth. On endless road trips across the country and all-nighters studying and just sharing the mundane parts of life with people who loved me so thoroughly, I started to heal. 

With these women in my life as my safe harbor, I could be weird and take risks and explore my talents and interests unhindered. It was a revelation. I started to understand the power of women and not fear it. I started to understand my own power, and it had nothing to do with men.

Of course, it’s a journey. During this same time, I let men take all kinds of liberties with my time and my body. To this day, I’m still recovering from the harm the church has done in my life, but my recovery started there with those brilliant women. 

In the decade and change since that time, I have gotten treatment for my mental illness. I still have depressive episodes every now and then, and on a scale of 1-10, my daily anxiety level is an 8. But part of who I am is that I run a little neurotic. I still want to have a Kim Il-Sung level control over my life, but I can cope when I don’t, which is most of the time. And I still seek out brilliant women as my daily support system. 

I hold a leadership position at work now. I have a team that relies on my integrity, which I define by my compassion, strength, commitment to social justice and unconditional support of my team members. 

I survived that Evangelical Free Church in a small, predominantly white farming town. I don’t look back with hatred or bitterness but rather with grief. I am grieving what I missed out on during those years and also the harm I may have done to others as part of that structure. 

To my family members who continue to try to reel me back into the church, this essay is for you. 

This is so you can better understand why I left and why I won’t return. I don’t begrudge you your beliefs at all but I do take issue with the institution. 

I believe that we all have to continue to examine the systems within which we operate. What I've learned in the years since leaving the church is that we often miss the forest for the trees. You can be so steeped in something that you miss the harm it’s doing. 

Another way to claim our power is to keep learning. Surround yourself with people who are different from you, listen to their experiences, believe them. Support others in claiming power that was stolen from them. 

As with those women who helped me heal, I want to be a safe harbor for others to heal. The work begins within ourselves and the institutions we uphold. We are responsible. 

Love, Lauren