The enduring effects of childhood trauma
And what does it have to do with White Christian Nationalism?
I wrote this sentence as a ghostwriter for a client:
Trauma often calls to mind soldiers overcoming the consequences of war, but what if our very own homes were battlefields, too?
I have been in therapy for complex PTSD (or developmental/childhood trauma) for three or four years now. Last night, I attended my first-ever group therapy session.
It was an intimate Women’s Trauma Group that I have been putting off for a while. Though I want to be seen and heard for what I’ve overcome, I still prefer being a wallflower in social situations like this.
The group session was tough for me at first. During introductions, I was the first (and only one) to cry as I answered, "What is something you’re struggling with right now?”
I was breaking the closed/dysfunctional family system rule of "Don’t Talk, Don’t Trust, Don’t Feel." I had a recent devastating insight into a memory of mine as a prepubescent person of around 9 or 10 years old — of not understanding what happened to me, of a separate event on being told racist things that I challenged and stood against, and then silenced for even questioning the ideas and realities of said family members.
Parents of closed family systems don’t encourage children to feel their feelings and emotions and often shamefully relegate them with yelling or other punishments for doing what is inherently human. Individuating yourself by questioning their authority in any way is a threat to the system itself, and it’s especially alarming if the child’s caretakers fall on the spectrum of pathological narcissism.
Pathological narcissism is a personality trait that then transforms into narcissistic abuse as the child becomes the object of those parents to use whenever they need to quell or satisfy their damaged egos.
This treatment is unfair and cruel. That child wants her parents to love her as a child without having to do anything in return (as is the child’s birthright). Psychologists who study this phenomenon equate the effects of this kind of abuse on a child to growing up around alcoholic parents.
Children don’t come into this world as adults with wisdom and insights. They are blank canvases that are the responsibility of the parents to make them feel safe, seen, and valuable. Biology indicates that parents and caretakers are also responsible for effectively regulating a child’s precious early nervous system by building secure attachment (a meaty developmental term I don’t have time to get into right now).
In other words, it was traumatic as a child for me to constantly experience a burning, chaotic world at home and then have my family of origin blame me for it when I questioned it, offered solutions to help resolve conflict, or stood up for myself.
Yes, my Catholic upbringing from birth reinforced this abuse during my critical developmental years, especially with the denomination’s focus on Augustine’s doctrine of “original sin.”
The doctrine of “original sin” states all children are born sinful and therefore need saving, a stance that is theologically inaccurate as none of the Christian Gospels say this. Biblical scholars suggest Augustine himself had issues with his sexuality and emotionally projected this junk onto others through his personal interpretations and writings about Scripture.
Cults enjoy indoctrinating children as they see them as blank slates to share their dogmatic messages and to keep them from leaving. Have you also heard of the modern Generation Joshua crowd in White Evangelical spaces, a crowd that trains children to infiltrate the U.S. government to promote authoritarianism or fascism? Though I argue Generation Joshua is more sinister and detrimental to outside parties, the effect is no different.
Generation Joshua and White Evangelicals afraid of teaching their children about slavery and other dark corners of American history, among other ridiculous concerns about “wokeism,” is how the cult of White Christian Nationalism is sinking its claws into the very fabric of our public schools. (Public schools are some of the only places these kids from abusive homes can find safety at times and food).
The rise in popularity of Moms for Liberty and the shunning of public school teachers who educate their students using books like an graphic novel adaptation of The Diary of Anne Frank should concern all of us, not just Freedom of Religion advocates. Not all children need to hear about Jesus when our hard-earned tax dollars are just trying to provide the basics of English, Math, Science, etc., as is the right of any child who attends a public school. Parents who want their children to have some form of spiritual foundation can do this in their homes or a place outside of the public school realm. Once public schools start to push religion down the throats of any student — not just Christianity — that is a violation of that child’s First Amendment rights.
Much of the writing and reporting I do with my email newsletter, Faith is Feminist, is similar to what the acclaimed writer Roxane Gay (Author of Bad Feminist) aims to achieve through her personal essays: highlight truths within our lived experience to expose cultural insights that affect politics and our communities at large.
What I do — and the standards I commit to — through Faith is Feminist by exposing the toxic narrative of abuse that is the cult of White Christian Nationalism is so personal and so myself. Yet I continue to feel like the “bad” child for speaking out, and it hurts no different than a deep cut or bruise.
When I share my authentic self with the world, I witness the loud silence of my own family and others who proceed to enable their abuses, along with the repeated shame I experienced as a young person growing up in this world for simply existing and also healthfully questioning the carefully curated exterior that many dysfunctional families present to the world.
The irony of all this shame from my toxic upbringing is I was indeed a fantastic kid: I was creative, had initiative and pushed myself, excelled in school, and was at the top of my graduating high school class. I even got into a highly competitive, highly selective undergraduate school of my choice that offered me a generous financial aid package, to boot, while going through a year of teenage intimate partner violence before that. In my second year of high school, my teachers nominated me for the selective Hugh O’Brian Youth Leadership role to represent my school and class, an achievement of which I and many others were proud (and I continue to be proud of myself for earning this because it’s a huge deal among educators and other leadership experts.)
Still, again — ironically — these outward-facing “successes” covered the abuses I encountered at home. Here lives the fallacy of narcissism and narcissistic abuse and why it is particularly damaging to the child on the receiving end of it — no one around you sees it or takes it seriously. Observers will then deny or diminish that child’s home life and lived experience, which is another separate form of abuse.
Thankfully, I was high-functioning, despite having debilitating OCD, an effect of the abuses of the closed family system itself. (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD, is ultimately an extreme form of anxiety.) Other children in such situations might resort to “acting out” or addictive behaviors, with some kids going in and out of juvenile detention. Many foster children sadly also experience this kind of abuse.
I know I’m not alone in this, but I very much feel alone.
Why do I proceed to call myself a Christian after experiencing religious abuse? Well, that’s a long conversation for another time, and I’m honestly fearful and need to present this in my way, knowing the judgments of all kinds of folks who don’t like to read or listen or will tell me “I’m not a real Christian.” (Whatever that means.)
I will say the data shows that individuals who escape the effects of shame and have an enduring love for themselves throughout life have some form of spiritual practice. (“Spiritual” means personal practices without ties to a religious institution but connecting oneself to a sense of a higher power. Twelve-step programs from Alcoholics Anonymous, Adult Children of Alcoholics/Dysfunctional Families, and others will also encourage such practices as a part of their curriculum in healing from addiction.)
The above data point is from the research of Dr. Brené Brown, PhD, MSW, an expert on the effects of shame.
To bring this all home, I like this quote from Dr. Brené Brown on why she wrote her book, The Gifts of Imperfection:
“This book is an invitation to join a wholehearted revolution. A small, quiet grassroots movement that starts with each of saying, ‘My story matters because I matter.’ A movement where we can take to the streets with our messy, heartbreaking, grace-filled, and joyful lives. A movement fueled by freedom that comes when we stop pretending everything is OK when it isn’t. A call that rises up from our bellies when we find the courage to celebrate those intensely joyful moments even though we’ve convinced ourselves that savoring happiness is inviting disaster. Revolution might sound a little dramatic, but in this world, choosing authenticity and worthiness is an absolute act of resistance.”