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In response to my Sunday column about spiritual abuse, I received what I believe is a sincere email from a man in his 60s. I edited the part in brackets to protect identity, but otherwise here is what he said:
“I really think that there must be a huge culture chasm between north and south Arkansas. For instance, it is only when I travel in the northern areas (which I do quite frequently) that I see the MAGA Trump-like signs in the yards. There are none here in our area south of Little Rock. I don’t know but one or two folks in our area who are unabashedly MAGA.
“The type of spiritual abuse you describe as a woman, and especially a married Christian woman, is just foreign to me, my wife, my [daughter and son-in-law in their 30s, both highly educated], all of us SBC Christians. My daughter was captain of cheerleaders, homecoming queen, prom queen, all that, but never did she hear from her mom or me to subjugate herself to a domineering man, Christian or not. My mother and father didn’t teach any of their four kids to follow their faith blindly. I have lived among Baptists all of my 64 years down here and the culture of spiritual abuse you speak of is again just foreign to us. And to be clear, I am not referring to spiritual authority used to commit sexual abuse of minors; that is a whole different subject.
“Do you personally know a bunch of women who had a similar experience as you? … . I am not trying or wanting to minimize or mitigate your experience at all; it is clear it was real and extraordinarily painful for you and your family, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
“Recently you painted all Christians with the same brush that you painted the crowd at the Charlie Kirk funeral with: All MAGA types that have no Jesus in them, or have misused Jesus for purposes other than how you think He should be used or represented. Again, this is a foreign concept to me, relating to the hundreds of Christians I know, work with, serve with, fellowship and worship with.
“Since you have been writing about your experience with spiritual abuse, have you gotten a bunch of responses from other women (and/or men) across the state that have had the same experiences? I am genuinely curious. Has religion failed other folks the same way as it did you? I am just wondering if I am living in an insulated cocoon that is not representative of what is happening in the rest of the state, spiritually speaking, or are you using a too-broad brush to paint everybody the same color as you have painted those who have failed you?”
There is a lot to unpack there. I could do it in a personal email reply, but as I know there are others with the same kinds of questions, I want to do it here to address those publicly, and as an example of civil conversation between people of differing ideas and experiences who both are seeking truth.
First, I cannot speak to a chasm between north and south Arkansas, other than to say that Little Rock and Fayetteville are the most liberal pockets of our population I am aware of in the state. Arkansans voted overwhelmingly for Trump all three times he has been on the ballot and elected his MAGA protégé our governor. And like most of the Bible Belt, Arkansas is religiously an evangelical Christian state; Southern Baptists are the largest evangelical denomination in existence; and 80 percent of evangelicals countrywide vote MAGA.
I am glad spiritual abuse is foreign to this reader’s family, although I do wonder about those young professionals in their 30s. In my 30s I would not have recognized it or been able to articulate it. But it was not foreign to me; I was right in the middle of it. The daughter sounds a lot like me, at least in high school. And I believe I have made this clear in other columns, but I will do it again: I was never taught by either one of my parents to subjugate myself to a domineering man, Christian or not. Nor did they teach me to follow my faith blindly. We would come home from church and discuss sermons around the table, what we liked or disliked, how we agreed or disagreed. My parents were educators and always encouraged me to think critically about everything.
This is one of the great mysteries for me about how I was able to be inculcated as I was with toxic beliefs about marriage and submission. My parents did not model those beliefs–still don’t. But somehow, I picked them up through a lifetime of Southern Baptist indoctrination, as well as from the non-denominational college ministry I joined after I left home called Student Mobilization. And the answer to whether I know a bunch of women who had a similar experience as me? Yes.
It is not only happening in our state, but across the nation. There may not be scientific data to prove it, but it wouldn’t surprise me if one day when more women’s stories are told we will see a line that connects the rise of Trump to the fall of evangelical church attendance, at least in women like me. Because even though I had no idea it was happening at the time, I can now see that as I witnessed the spiritual authority I trusted–the Southern Baptist Church–throw its support behind a man so disrespectful to women he would brag about grabbing them by private parts, that trust was fractured. In the next few years, it would grow into a gulf as wide as the Grand Canyon.
It is interesting that my reader ends his first set of questions and observations with: “And to be clear, I am not referring to spiritual authority used to commit sexual abuse of minors, that is a whole different subject.” I think a lot of people in Southern Baptist culture would see the sexual abuse rampant in the church as something separate from the subjugation of women. I used to. But along this journey I have come to see them as connected.
Whether the abuses are by men in authority toward minors or grown women who come forward–as so many have, only to be ostracized by the Southern Baptist Convention–the common theme is that the men in authority are protected over their victims. One need look no further than Immanuel Baptist Church of Little Rock for an example, although it is happening all over the country. And has happened for decades. The message is louder than any sermon that purports to honor women or children. Men are the priority.
My reader then writes: “Recently you painted all Christians with the same brush that you painted the crowd at the Charlie Kirk funeral with. All MAGA types that have no Jesus in them or have misused Jesus for purposes other than how you think He should be used or represented. Again, this is a foreign concept to me, relating to the hundreds of Christians I know, work with, serve with, fellowship and worship with.”
It does not make sense that I would paint all Christians with the same brush that I painted the crowd at the Kirk funeral. I certainly don’t see all Christians as such. I wish my reader had–and the invitation is open for anyone to do so–given me an example of where I have done that. If I can be shown evidence I will apologize and retract it, because that has never been in my heart. After all, I am a Christian.
And I am not a MAGA supporter. I think MAGA is an abomination and scourge on not only the Republican Party but America, and certainly evangelical Christianity. The greatest challenge in writing honestly and critically about my experiences with Christian institutions like the Southern Baptist Church is that there are “hundreds of Christians I know, work with, serve with, fellowship and worship with” who are still members of those institutions. Many of those individuals are my beloved family and dear friends.
Finally, my reader writes, “Since you have been writing about your experience with spiritual abuse, have you gotten a bunch of responses from other women (and/or men) across the state that have had the same experiences? I am genuinely curious. Has religion failed other folks the same way as it did you? I am just wondering if I am living in an insulated cocoon that is not representative of what is happening in the rest of the state, spiritually speaking, or are you using a too-broad brush to paint everybody the same color as you have painted those who have failed you?”
My answer is yes, I have gotten countless responses from people across the state who have had similar experiences, who have been failed by religion as I have been. I continue to receive these responses every time I touch on the subject, which is what spurs me on to continue writing about it. Perhaps, like my reader, if more well-meaning Christians don’t realize it is happening, this will get their attention and catalyze them to do something about it. That would be a dream to me–and the only way things could change.
I loved the Southern Baptist Church. It was my spiritual home. Like so many others who love it enough to point out ways it is not living up to its ideals, I hope it will one day. I had to leave, but I know others who have stayed, and work within it toward that end.
But even if the culture never changes, I want to tell my story as a way to make sense of it if I can. To give others courage to tell theirs. And to let them know they are not alone.
Gwen Ford Faulkenberry is an author, teacher and award-winning columnist from Ozark. Email her at gfaulkenberry@hotmail.com.
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Gwen Ford Faulkenberry is a mother, author, English professor, and award-winning columnist from Ozark, Arkansas. She has written for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette since 2021.
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