Joseph Forgives His Brothers, by the Providence Lithograph Company (http://thebiblerevival.com/clipart/1907/gen45.jpg) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
That said, yesterday, I read Stephanie’s post, hugo schwyzer’s suicide attempt, the feminist response, and the tension of holding horrible things alongside possiblity. While again, I don’t agree 100% with everything she says, it resonated with me. Bear with me as I attempt to explain why, keeping two things in mind:
- Stephanie writes from a place of having been harmed. No one should accuse her of failing to understand what it’s like to be victimized.
- I am not writing from that place. I’m writing from the place of one who has both done the harm and seen the harm.
A lot of people were pretty angry about what Stephanie said in her post. I understand that. There was a time when I would have readily jumped on that train. I have my own experiences with being told to forgive someone who had wronged me–to the point of not being able to express my anger because both Christianity and “psychology” told me that the burden was on me to “own” my reactions. I wasn’t supposed to hold past misdeeds against people who continued to hurt me. All of those things are lies; it’s not on me to do anything, and a person’s history does inform his or her present actions. So believe me when I say I get it that some of what Stephanie said could trigger a lot of feelings.
On the other hand, her post did make me consider two things that are very important for me. I emphasize that last part because I recognize myself to be pretty near the top of the privilege food chain. I’m white, I’m cisgender, and I’m straight. I’m a married stay-at-home-mom (to me, that’s like the height of economic privilege, that I can choose to do what I want). I’ve never been spiritually abused, though I have a long history of other forms of bullying, and there were certainly abuses in my family. What Stephanie’s post made me think about wasn’t how I treat those who have wronged me but how I, as a person who has wronged others, have had my own redemption story.
First, I have to really, truly, deeply own my history of fundamentalist ideas. When I was 15 or 16, I was in the car with a couple of family members. I cheerfully told them that “sin is sin,” a line I was repeating from church. They already knew that my church had taught me that gay = sin. The conversation went like this:
Me: Sin is sin. One sin is no better or worse than any other.
Family member 1: So, lying and murder are equal.
Me: Yep.
Family member 2: You believe it’s wrong to be gay.
Me: Yes.
Family member 1: So, being gay is as bad as being a rapist.
Me [now very uncomfortable]: Yeah, I guess, but it’s just because all sin keeps us from God.
Family member 2: So I’m as bad as a rapist.
Me: I don’t know. I guess so.
And that’s the most mild and printable of the ways I hurt this person.
Ten years. It took me ten years to get to a point where I didn’t still believe that. I have no idea how that particular family member stuck it out with me. All I can say is that from the time I was old enough to remember, she’s been one of my favorite people in the whole world. She’s been one of my biggest advocates. Because she (and other family members, who have also been wonderful) loved me and waited patiently for me, we made it past all that. I changed.
It’s that belief that people can–and do–change that keeps me blogging. It keeps me searching for new ways to be an ally and it keeps me reading on Twitter to see where my privilege is showing and what I can do to make it right. It keeps me searching for justice and my part in it. It keeps me pointing to the voices of others and asking people to listen. I express all that in different ways. Sometimes I’m angry and bold; sometimes I use Scripture; sometimes I write about how deeply I love the people in my life. I keep going, though, because someone, somewhere may be reading and might just find the spark to change.
The second thing that occurred to me is that I’m a harsh critic of people. I don’t actually like people very much. Perhaps that’s the result of my history with peers at school or with some of my family. It could be because I’m pretty introverted. I don’t really know. The problem is that I often have trouble separating what people say and do from who they are. This is particularly true when those people are public figures.
I have little difficulty accepting and loving ordinary people, even when they aren’t perfect. The real people in my everyday life get the benefit of my ongoing forgiveness. My two closest friends (other than my husband) are very different women, but I love them both so, so much. Have we ever hurt each other? Sure. Do we do things the others think are probably bad ideas? Of course. But there is a lot of good history that none of us are willing to throw away. We make things right and we move on.
That can’t be done with these big-name “celebrity” bloggers, pastors, and speakers. I’m not at all condoning what any of them say or do. We need to keep calling them out on their behavior because they are doing these big, public things and using their fame to gain followers who will then turn around and do the same things. We need to stop them. We need to be angry, we need to be pushy, we need to be bold. We also need to be gentle and persuasive and kind–not because that’s the “best” way to do it but because our natural personalities make us respond in our own ways. I cannot imagine some of my fellow bloggers being polite about Mark Driscoll or Hugo Schwyzer’s latest pile of poo. On the other hand, there are many bloggers I can’t imagine writing a scathingly funny take-down or an angry rant; they normally write very differently than that.
Where we may be able to agree is that we can say what a person is actually doing without assigning motive or making assumptions about who that person is or whether there is any hope for change. We can say with certainty that Mark Driscoll, John Piper, Hugo Schwyzer, and others have said and continue to say terrible things. We can worry about their families. We can tell anyone who will listen in whatever way we need to that their words are damaging. What we can’t do is know why they do those things or whether they will ever change.
I also feel uncomfortable with name-calling, as that speaks to who or what we think someone is at their core. I admit to having done this; I imagine that I learned to do it as a child. My mother used to call me names when she was angry, and I was bullied mostly with name-calling for years. Whether or not anyone else agrees, I believe no matter what abuse someone has committed or appears to have committed, it is, in fact, bullying to call people steaming piles of shit or assholes or fucktards or douchebags. I don’t really care that you think it’s not hurting them because they hurt you first or that you’re just expressing your anger. It’s still not right. They are humans, not poo or body parts–regardless of the evil things they’ve done.*
There is one place where I strongly disagree with Stephanie (and I hope this does not hurt her, in the same way that I hope not to have hurt others with my words above). In the specific case of Hugo Schwyzer, his past is applicable. He may have apologized for what he did, but the fact that he keeps on doing it says volumes more than his apology. Perhaps he wouldn’t try to kill an intimate partner now, but he isn’t demonstrating respect for women. This is the same man who penned an article (which I will not link to) about removing a tampon from his soon-to-be ex-wife. If that’s not a violation of her privacy and her womanhood, I don’t know what is. If he wants people to stop bringing up his past, then he needs to stop behaving that way in the present.
I know this post is already too long; I hope you’ve stuck with me. I honestly don’t want to hurt anyone with my words. As I said near the beginning, this was mostly about the things I believe I’ve done wrong and now wish to amend. It won’t change the fact that I’m going to continue to use my words to fight injustice. It does mean that I want to be careful not to conflate actions with unknown motives or words with people.
I’d love to know what you think; leave me a comment and tell me what’s on your mind.
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*I maintain that name-calling can be ok for institutions (which are not thinking/feeling beings) or in certain humorous contexts, such as the post I linked in my News last Friday about being a better douchebag (it wasn’t connected with a specific individual).
unchained faith 
Great post Amy. Your one, little and shortest sentence “I changed” says it all. We must give people room for that.
Yeah. Maybe not everyone will change, but it’s how we’ve had thousands of years of progress, right?
I love this. I always want to give room for someone to change because I’ve seen it in others and I’ve seen it in myself. Some have far bigger things to change, but I must maintain hope that it can happen. To me, my faith demands it.
It seems pointless not to hope for change. And I agree. The hope for change (maybe even especially in myself) is what keeps me connected to my faith.
Amy, thank you for your thoughts on this. You say there is an area in which we disagree, but I do think that you and I are actually on the same page. In no way do I feel Hugo should not be held to full account for what he has done. I am typing through tears because people have been saying that I am advocating abuse with my post. I do not know how much clearer I could have possibly made it that healing involves drawing boundaries to halt the abuse. I talked about my own devastating abuse history with sexual assault and domestic violence, and I talked about how I made a boundary with my parents, and that their response was to disown me. I live every day with the gutting effects of having been disowned by my pastor father and my mother in response to a boundary I made. My children ask sometimes if my parents died. I feel like my experience and words have been twisted egregiously. I would never advocate that someone let Hugo or any other abuser off the hook in any way. My entire post was about calling abusers to full account for their abuse and exposing all the hurt and awfulness and NOT forgetting. If you feel that you disagree with me on Hugo because you feel that I think we should let Hugo continue in his pattern, please hear me in that that is absolutely the opposite of what I tried to express. He and no one else should be allowed to continue abusing. A boundary must be made. So you say you disagree with me, but I think that we feel the same way about this. I cannot put into words how difficult it is that people seemed to not have heard what I was saying when I tried so hard to make it so clear. I have no idea how much more clearly I could have said it.
Just my opinion (correct me if I’m wrong) — I kind of felt like your article was more about how forgiveness, grace and honesty intersect, and Hugo was brought into it only as a sort of case study, used to help analyze / flesh out the points you were trying to make. It struck me on the SCCL comment thread as well, that people are being distracted by and fixated on Hugo, straining out the gnat but swallowing the camel, and thereby overlooking the very valid and eloquent points you were making.
Can I just say, “What Danica said”? I made a bigger deal out of it myself than it required.
I promised I’d come over here and apologize (even though I already did so more privately-ish) because this post is public. What I specifically want to say I’m sorry for is not asking what you meant by something I obviously misunderstood. I made assumptions about what you meant instead of checking, which isn’t cool. And then I stupidly said it in a way that was hurtful. Which actually makes what you originally said so much more important–I tend to beat myself up about this sort of thing, and that’s not good either. I’m giving myself permission to fail, and I appreciate your grace with me. 🙂
What I reacted to (and I think others may have too, but they also should’ve asked what you meant) was the bit about HS apologizing and getting help. Re-reading it, I see exactly where I didn’t understand what you said. But I was completely wrong, and I allowed my own view to tint how I read it. I also reacted badly to the quote at the end, though that’s definitely more about my own personal triggers than anything else. This is the 4th time I’ve read it through, and I honestly don’t know how I missed it–or how anyone else could’ve read this piece and come away finding it “dangerous.”
Amy,
I can’t thank you enough for how understanding you’re being. Just, thank you SO much. I feel this kind of posture is what will change the world, it changes everything. Thank you so much for wanting to listen and for apologizing so generously. I told my husband “I can’t remember the last time someone apologized to me this generously, I want to apologize this way to everyone.” I am overwhelmed and teary (with gratitude this time, hee!).
I knew that invoking HS’s name would carry the risk of my point not being heard because that name just brings up so much for people. I don’t like to hear any of my abuser’s names or even my parents’ names. And there is so, so, so much tension in naming their abuse, and being open to relationship and reconciliation only if they acknowledge their harm and change (changing their ways is very important, just acknowledging the harm is not enough to reconcile, there must be evidence of a changed mindset in order for there to be hope of a healthy, actual relationship with anyone after they have behaved abusively. And they have not agreed to acknowledge or change, and so we haven’t spoken in eight years, all that to say I live in this space, hard, every day and that experience definitely informed much of my post). So, before I go off on a tangent about the nuances of forgiveness and reconciliation, I just want to reiterate that I hold the tension of naming abusers’ harm, demanding it be exposed and not forgotten, and also holding hope for their recovery every day. It is profoundly difficult and messy.
I can see too how the quote at the end could be difficult for people. I think I have particular affinity for it because it’s from my favorite book by Scott Peck and also contains a Lewis quote about Narnia. 🙂 I will move that quote to the comment section with a proper warning beforehand. Thank you so much for your posture of curiosity and wanting to understand and I just appreciate your voice so much and send you all the sappy, grateful feelings.
Goodness. Now I’m all teary. Yes, I think you’re right–this way of treating people is how we change the world. I have my fantastic husband to thank for teaching me about being humble this way; he learned far better from his parents than I did from mine. He’s been pretty patient with my learning curve. And now so have you. 🙂 Thanks for being so willing to forgive me.
Lest I be guilty of straining out the gnat myself 🙂 ….
“That can’t be done with these big-name “celebrity” bloggers, pastors, and speakers. I’m not at all condoning what any of them say or do. We need to keep calling them out on their behavior because they are doing these big, public things and using their fame to gain followers who will then turn around and do the same things. We need to stop them. We need to be angry, we need to be pushy, we need to be bold. We also need to be gentle and persuasive and kind–not because that’s the “best” way to do it but because our natural personalities make us respond in our own ways. I cannot imagine some of my fellow bloggers being polite about Mark Driscoll or Hugo Schwyzer’s latest pile of poo. On the other hand, there are many bloggers I can’t imagine writing a scathingly funny take-down or an angry rant; they normally write very differently than that.”
Love this, and totally agree. I feel that the more voices that join in the conversation, speaking from their own experience and being true to their own personalities, the better the conversation can become. We’re all members of one body, after all, and our individuality is what strengthens the whole.
Exactly. What I failed epically to convey here (see above; I really hurt Stephanie) was that I’m just as sick of being told that kindness, reconciliation, forgiveness, and grace are “wrong” as I am of being told angry ranting is “wrong.” I’m really done with the attitude that says there’s a perfect version of anything (feminism, advocacy, spirituality) out there if only we try hard enough to be that thing. Better is to use our voices and do our healing the way we need to do it.