I'm a Wisconsin native working on my first book. My focus for the last few years has been on writing and continuing to shine a light on trauma and ways to heal from it. I love books, dogs, fresh pencils, and balls of yarn.
It isn’t very often that I have a reason to post something wonderful. Last week a couple of survivors who grew up in Calvary Gospel Church finally received some justice. Rebecca Martin Byrd, who previously told her story here, was able to bring her abuser into court. We all celebrated with her and Dena, another of Glen Uselmann’s victims, as he was found guilty of all 5 counts brought against him!
The whole week was bittersweet. At times it was filled with pain and tears and the fear that comes with facing the demons of the past. The sweetness came from watching all of these brave women band together to gain justice for one of their friends. No, most of us will never see justice in our own cases but I think we all took a piece of this victory for ourselves. In joining together we showed them that they have not beaten us. Those little girls who were despised and abandoned in their pain were replaced by strong women forged in the furnace of adversity. Individually these women are amazing and when we work together we are an unstoppable force. I am proud to call them my friends and they are some of the only good things that came out of my time at Calvary Gospel.
More cases are on the horizon for the Wisconsin UPC district. I can only hope that justice will continue to be handed out to those who have caused harm. I know that some at Calvary Gospel see this as the church being under attack and some have even accused us of chasing older men when we were children. As if an 11-year-old girl would want a 29/30-year-old man. My hope for the church is that someday they will see that when they say, “God will judge” that maybe just maybe he already has. Maybe this is God’s judgment and not an attack on them from the children of their past. I know that all I wanted from them when I was a child was love and acceptance. Now I want nothing from them and I do not seek to hurt them. I only seek justice for all the wounded children created within their walls.
On June 14, 2022 David K Bernard General Superintendent of The United Pentecostal church announced on his Facebook page a church wide program called Safe Church. On upci.org they state “The UPCI stands for biblical morality and opposes any immoral or illegal actions such as child abuse, spousal abuse, sexual harassment, sexual immorality, and fraud. We take all allegations of wrongdoing very seriously.” They go on to state “The UPCI has limited ability to deal with situations involving criminal conduct, and thus in such cases you should contact the appropriate legal authorities… each local church is self-governing under the leadership of the pastor and church board. If you have a complaint against a member of a local UPCI church, contact the pastor and the chair of the church board. If you wish to file a complaint against a credentialed UPCI minister, you should contact the district superintendent where that minister resides.”
This policy along with the UPCI position paper on abuse and sexual misconduct would lead you to believe that they stand firmly against abuse and encourage members to go to local authorities as soon as a problem arises. The problem is when a state like Wisconsin has a loophole that says ministers are not required to report. What is missed is how UPCI members are groomed to believe that their pastors word is the final word on everything. What happens if you go to your pastor and they say they will handle it? Then nothing is done and you are also groomed to not bring the police into church business. Also what happens, like in my case, when your pastor is your district superintendent? What I am not seeing is David K Bernard instructing licensed ministers to change the way they teach church members. I believe he would say that each church is autonomous and therefore the UPCI cannot instruct them on these things just like the UPCI will not force churches to adopt their policy, they say they can only make recommendations. I call bull****. If they license ministers and at times remove licenses then they can require anything they want. They could say report all cases or lose your license.
All you have to do is read some of the social media comments about current cases to see where the church really stands. It has become clear that much like the Catholic Church the UPCI moves accused ministers around and is silent when calls are made for ministers to be removed because of wrong doing. It seems as if not much has changed regarding how things are really handled. I believe this is because the UPCI has not had an overhaul of their collective heart. When you have pastors’ wives saying things like..
Statements like this make it clear that compassion is not the primary concern with regards to victims.
I spent some time in David K Bernards comment section and tried to bring up the fact that there is a huge problem in the Madison Wisconsin church. He did not offer me any compassion and none of the other UPCI commenters really had much to say to me. When you spend time reading the comments most of what you see is people saying that pastor so and so is innocent! He is being falsely accused and the victim pursued him. It is the same no matter what case you look at. All this shows that across the membership they are firmly grounded in pastor/minister worship. At no point have I seen David K Bernard step in to rebuke these members. Usually the ones standing for the victims in these conversations are the other survivors. These survivors can be quickly dismissed as being backslidden lost souls whose cries for justice should be ignored for that reason.
Why does John Grant still have a license? Well I think I know what they would say, they would say because he has no victims. Truth be told he has many, many victims. Young people who trusted him to do what is right, not just what is called for by law. Pastors and other ministers should report and support survivors because it is moral and because it is right. Not just because Safe Church recommends it or because of the UPCI position paper. I firmly believe all of these “suggested” policies exist just to cover the UPCI in the public eye. It is window dressing. As I have asked in a previous post, where is the love? I would add to that compassion and kindness.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.” Galatians 5: 22-23.
I do not see these fruits exhibited within the comments on social media or in the way the churches have handled things. What I see is church members hero worshipping pastors instead of coming alongside victims. I see nasty attitudes and one-upmanship in the comments and I don’t see David K Bernard stepping in to correct peoples bad behavior. It is clear he is respected and his words carry weight. If he were to speak out and make a statement about how people are behaving in the comments I believe he could make an impact. The current church looks an awful lot like Pharisees. In public on their website trying to appear so righteous but their hearts are rotten. When I watch how they behave regarding these issues I see the same mean victim blaming church I know so well from my childhood.
The topic of historical abuse keeps popping up lately. Today I want to explain why I keep talking about my story. Some people might think, well this all started way back in 1981, shouldn’t she be past it all by now? There tends to be this misconception that just because I continue to speak about it means that I’m not trying to heal or move on with my life. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have worked and continue to work very hard on my own healing while recognizing that I will always have C-PTSD. It is not my desire to have to keep fighting this fight, nevertheless I press forward because I cannot turn my back on all of the children who are still in church. My conscience will not allow me to stop fighting until the church has been brought to justice. I’m not saying that all survivors should follow my path. We each have to do what is best for ourselves.
I know that my abuser has at least one other victim.
“Most perpetrators will continue to abuse children if they are not reported and stopped. Nearly 70% of child sex offenders have between 1 and 9 victims; at least 20% have 10 to 40 victims. An average serial child molester may have as many as 400 victims in his lifetime”
These statistics are what keep me awake at night. We know that abusers rarely stop at one child, I know my abuser had at least 2 victims. We also know that they do not stop unless they are brought to justice. My abuser still has access to children through the church he leads and the community that he has become very involved with. I am left to wonder how many more victims he has picked up over the years? These abusers are life ruiners. Once you become caught in their web you will likely spend your entire lifetime dealing with the damage they have caused. These acts are not something that you just move on from. It takes so much time and money to heal from these abuses, time and money that could be spent on so many other wonderful things. Every day I live with the fact that my abuser is still out there. People will say well he can’t hurt you now, and I understand that, but I am also aware that he can still hurt others. I think he should be on the sexual offenders list and be monitored by the authorities. At the very least I continue to speak so that others know to steer clear of him and the United Pentecostal Church. If I can save even one child from the pain I’ve endured it will have been worth it.
When abusers and those who cover for them are not brought to justice the cycle continues. Not only are the abusers able to continue their sick practices but those who cover for them are most likely going to be willing to cover for others like them. As long as these people remain in power the cycle continues and the victims pile up. In my case my pastor, John Grant Sr., was the district superintendent for the state of Wisconsin. I am sure he counseled others beneath him on how to handle cases like mine. He also had multiple cases within his own congregation that he swept under the rug. Because he has never been held responsible for his behavior the Madison church developed a policy of covering up crimes against children. His son is now in charge and has his own problems with being inappropriate with minors. How driven do you believe Roy Grant to be with regards to reporting abuse? So far it appears he is not shown himself to be willing to take responsibility for what he has done or how the congregation has a history of covering up crimes against children. He has shown himself to be unwilling to make any kind of amends towards survivors and so the cycle continues. Because it was not dealt with way back in 1981 we are still dealing with it in 2022. I know of so many survivors who once sat under Pastor John Grant and I’m sure there are so many more who are too afraid or just weary to come forward. Are you starting to see the cost? When crimes go without being brought to justice the cycle moves on and on. When institutions allow a culture of covering up abuse and then nepotism allows churches to pass from father to son children will continue to be at risk. Why do you think Calvary Gospel has so many survivors? I feel it is because abusers clearly saw that those in leadership were not moved to stand for children and because of that they felt safe to carry out their crimes. Men might have to stand before the church and confess but no one was going to call the cops. Also the men knew that the young girls would most likely be standing right there beside them because the church rarely sees these things as crimes against children but chooses to see them as adultery. Children were and are sacrificed on the altar of the church’s public image. Men who abuse minors are not weeded out and when they invite their friends to church often their friends are just like them. Over time the number of men willing to abuse minors grows while none of them are ever really removed from the congregation. This is how churches become rotten. Anyone who has ever had a garden knows you have to weed. I have to ask myself do the men in power cover up the crimes of congregants because they are afraid that maybe the finger will be pointed at them? Are they in hiding because of their own misdeeds?
We rarely ever speak about the women and their role. I can tell you from my own experience that the women within my home church were the meanest of them all. When I needed support or maybe someone to report on my abuser these women had nothing for me but accusing eyes and gossip. I think because women within the church are treated as second class citizens they try to garner status in any way they can. It might come in the form of who has the longest hair or the best clothing, whose husband has the highest position, or it might come in the form of looking your nose down on a little girl that you see as beneath you. Either way the women within the UPC are not free from responsibility. They support the church and keep the secrets just like the men do.
All of this creates a legacy of abuse and my story is just one small part of it. As long as the cycle continues I feel I have to keep telling my story and speaking about the systemic nature of it all. What we refuse to acknowledge and deal with will continue to fester and spread. What can you do? Well, you can uplift the stories of survivors. You can speak out regarding abuse you have witnessed and you can call out the leadership of your church. You can report abuse when you suspect it and you can speak the truth when others are too afraid to. For my part I’m going to continue to shed light where I can and I’m going to continue to seek my own healing.
When I was a little girl one of my favorite passages of the Bible was 1 Corinthians 13. In a Bible that often seemed confusing and unclear to my young mind this verse rang out with its clarity. When I think about how the UPC is handling the abuse cases coming into the light I have to wonder if they have read these verses lately.
“1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal
2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”
I know that I have stated this before but whenever I read David Bernards responses regarding the church and the sick acts that are being perpetrated within its congregations I get so angry. It always comes across to me as deflection, blame shifting, victim blaming, and nowhere in his words do I see love in any form. Yes, it is true that in many cases they (the UPC) are not required to report crimes to the police, but when has the letter of the law ever been their concern? I was under the impression that they believed the Bible in its most literal form and it is believed to be inerrant. The Bible is said to be the focus of their lives and not man’s law. If the Bible is truly their focus then doing the right thing should matter more that protecting their organization and certainly more important that protecting ministers who have committed crimes against children.
“Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.” Matthew 18:10
I do not believe for one minute that the powers that be within the UPC believe that these abused children have tempted these grown men into sin. I feel they understand that children are not the ones with the power within the situation and I also believe that they do not care. They only care about protecting their money and organization. Reputation is what matters and that makes them look like Pharisees. Wanting to be seen as holy but with rotten hearts.
“And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea.” Mark 9:42
When I read David Bernards words I see a worried man with the walls closing in around him and the organization he leads. If I could give him one piece of advice it would be this, you can change all of this right now, there is still time. I would suggest starting by apologizing to all the victims the UPC have ignored. You would be surprised at how healing that message could be. Then I would make a commitment to clean house of all of the ministers who have perpetrated crimes and those who support them. Don’t count crimes by who has been arrested but who you know have done terrible things to the little ones. Put into place a zero tolerance policy regarding child abuse and start implementing it immediately. Reach out to the wounded and offer love and real help.
“And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Matthew 25:40
Rather than speak about who has a license and who does not I would suggest reaching out to the victims and their families and seek to find ways to help them heal. Embrace them rather than casting them out. When choosing a side to stand on be found on the side of the wounded child instead of seeming to want to protect the men who have decided to walk with the devil.
“Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.
Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?
And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.” Matthew 7: 21-23
Now I can already hear all of you UPC folks saying to yourselves, why should we listen to her? She is an unbeliever. This may be so but remember that you raised me and I consumed this scripture day and night and I know it as well as you do.
The UPC is very concerned about holiness and especially about the holiness of women. It seems odd to me that they care so little about the lack of holiness in some of their men. There is a toxic plague running through their churches but what matters to them is what the young woman was wearing and if she flirted with a grown man that should know better. Dovey Ensey, a pastors wife, was quoted as saying, “All I’ll say is, it takes two to tango.” When I read this the first thing that came to mind were the things the church said about me. It was like a punch in the gut and it drove home how much the church has not changed since I was a child. They claim they have evolved and they claim to teach their ministers how to respond properly to situations involving abuse but from where I stand its seems like the same old playbook.
If you are a victim/survivor of the UPC church I want you to know that I am here for you. Feel free to reach out at any time and I will be happy to chat with you.
My heart has been stirring for the last few days as new allegations of sexual abuse and misconduct from within the United Pentecostal Church have come to light. Sometimes it seems never ending and somedays I tell myself that I’m too tired or angry to speak but today is not one of those days. April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and I feel that this is the perfect time to remind people that behind all of these stories is a real victim/survivor and their families. I watch as people spar over what the Bible says and who is a licensed minister within the UPC and who is not. I watch as David Bernard ducks and weaves to avoid being held accountable for what happened within the organization he leads. In the midst of all of this people discuss whether or not the victim is to blame and some sling arrows saying things like, “It takes two to tango.” I wish I could say that I am surprised but I am not. From my personal experience the UPC will never miss the opportunity to blame the victim and support the perpetrators. I believe it is all about money and saving their precious reputation. Nepotism has long been a problem within the organization and they do not seem to be in any hurry to solve it. They definitely are not in a hurry to take responsibility when their sin is brought out into the light.
Minors cannot give consent and cannot be held responsible for the thoughts and actions of adults. When I was abused within the Madison Wisconsin congregation I was 11 years old and very modestly dressed. I had never held hands with a boy and actually did not really have much interest in boys at that point. I was an innocent and none of that kept me safe from an abusive man and the pastor and others who did not report it to the police. I did not cause this grown man to fall into sin and neither did any of the survivors who followed after me. The other thing that isn’t often talked about is the lifetime of pain and trauma that awaits survivors of sexual abuse. It isn’t a little thing. It changes who you are and for many of us it drove us away from the church. We became the focus of gossip instead of being the focus of love and compassion.
When I think of these new survivors and all the ones who came before I send a little prayer out to the universe. I wish them love and compassion, healing and wholeness, understanding and friendship. I hope they have someone in their lives to tell them it isn’t their fault and if they do not have a person like that I hope they find my blog. I am grateful for those who continue to drag these stories out into the light. I am also thankful for those who continue to fight when I cannot. I may not always say thank you but I see your work and I appreciate your support.
“You’re not a victim for sharing your story. You are a survivor setting the world on fire with your truth. And you never know who needs your light, your warmth, and raging courage.” — Alex Elle
National Child Abuse Hotline Call or text hotline: 800.422.4453
I’ve been thinking about survival. Before writing this morning I asked myself, “How did you survive when things were so awful?” When I was a child and teen I had a very rich inner life. When I was a little kid my imagination helped me to go to other places in my mind. Most of the time this was a good skill although sometimes it would lead me into imagining hell and other scary scenarios. At times I would get stuck in a loop and it would be almost impossible for me to escape these imaginations. It was like a virus that had to run its course. Now I understand that it was trauma. Often escaping these cycles of thought required something stronger to override their power.
On good days I would imagine myself as Wonder Woman. My bike would become her invisible plane and I would fly through the neighborhood solving crimes and kicking ass. When I close my eyes I can still go to that place. I can still feel my bike beneath me and the wind gently sweeping across my face. When I allow myself to go to that place in my mind immediately a smile creeps in. My bike was freedom. It was a way for me to work out all of my frustration and pent up anxiety. Those endorphins are good medicine.
Physical exertion has always helped me cope in difficult times. When I was a child riding my bike along with other things like gymnastics and hitting my tennis ball against the wall could help me get out of my head. I never enjoyed gym class but it wasn’t because I hated exercise. It had more to do with the social dynamics at play and being forced to participate in team sports that I did not care for. I have never really been comfortable with competition. During gym class I was often picked last. My family did not care much about sports so I had little exposure to things like football and baseball. My parents enjoyed solitary sports and my father enjoyed boxing. They instilled in me an appreciation for being outdoors and competing against self vs others. My father in particular was always pushing me to run farther and faster. He would shadow box with me and I was fond of playing with his boxing equipment. Jump roping was another activity I enjoyed. I would count my jumps to see if I could beat yesterday’s number.
Luckily for me I had a very creative mother and she instilled in me a love for art and music. Art in particular helped me to escape the sadness that permeated every part of my life. I could lose myself in a flow state. I could spend all day drawing or gluing popsicle sticks together. I played with clay and always had tons of coloring books around. To this day when I need to shut my brain off for a bit I will color in my adult coloring book.
Music was another thing that supported me when life was too tough to take. I have always enjoyed singing and my mother would sing with me at home. My father was very sentimental and he always had music on as well. I liked some church music but secular music was so much better. Church music just reminded me of things that made my anxiety worse. It is true that listening to “worldly” music would bring about a sense of guilt but the happiness it brought made it worth it. Secular music offered me a chance to escape into the world of the song and imitating the artists allowed me to try on different identities. It did not take long for musicians to surpass television and book characters as the focus of my escapism. I spent so many afternoons singing into my hairbrush imagining being anywhere but my bedroom.
Fast forward to now and my coping mechanisms are the same. I would like to say that they are all good but that would be a lie. I can still go inside my head and lose myself in my inner world. Sadly it is not always friendly inside my head and I no longer see myself as Wonder Woman. Going too deeply inward can often turn into dissociation. It is like I’m not really present but floating above my body or just outside of the frame of my life. Disconnected from what is happening right in front of me. It isn’t that I have anything terrible to escape but it has become a coping mechanism I employ in order to handle anxiety. Suffering from Complex PTSD means that as good as life gets I always have to remind myself that I’m no longer living the life I lived in the past.
Television helped me to handle the lonely days of childhood and it can still help me at times. I have to be careful because it can become a numbing mechanism, keeping me from being present. I realize that it was a numbing mechanism when I was a kid as well, but survival requires doing what you can to get through. Now I have other better ways of coping and so I have to remember that. What works best is being mindful. Mindful of which television shows I watch and that applies to other things as well, like podcasts. By choosing things versus just numbing out it helps to keep me present.
I still love to exercise. Moving my body helps to keep me sane. Just like when I was a kid, endorphins are great medicine. I can tell when I haven’t moved my body enough because my anxiety becomes really high. Exercise allows me to shut my brain off for a while and just be in my body. Not floating above like when I’m dissociating and not numbing out either. It is like my brain becomes still, which is not a state I can easily achieve. My body gets to release all of its pent up frustration and anxiety. Even as I write this I can see how I separate my mind from my body instead of seeing myself as a whole being. Fractured is the word that comes to mind. It probably would not surprise you to know that I view myself as broken. I have to fight that thought and feeling. Yes, I have C-PTSD and that makes me different from most people but it doesn’t make me broken. I have to work very hard to send my poor injured brain love instead of berating myself for not being “fixed” by now.
Creating art is probably the most pure thing in my world. I still use it as a coping mechanism but at the end I have this beautiful piece of expression to hold in my hands and enjoy. The act of using my hands to create soothes my anxiety and allows my mind something wonderful to focus on. If left to its own devices my brain just naturally wonders to a sad place, that is my set point. Sometimes it is depression and much of the time it is just a result of my lived experience. Creating helps me to breathe deep and lose myself in that flow state once again.
Music is still so dear to me. Some of my only happy memories involving church revolve around singing and music. My husband and I recently went to see The Avett Brothers in concert. Nothing beats being in the midst of a crowd singing along to your favorite song. I often come away from these shows with aches and pains from dancing and jumping around to the music but it is worth every bruise. Music is a double edged sword. It can heal or hurt depending on what I hear. Hearing hymns or the dreaded Thief in the Night song which shall not be named can trigger me in pretty profound ways. Songs get stuck in my head and it can be VERY hard to get them out, that being said nothing heals like music can. It can erase my anxiety and help my mind to shift when a trigger threatens to overwhelm me.
“One little song
Give me strength to the leave the sad and the wrong
Bury safely in the past where I’ve been living
Alive but unforgiving
Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go”
Souls Like The Wheels- The Avett Brothers
It’s funny how I’m still that little girl I used to be. I still use the same coping mechanisms to survive. Someday I would like to see myself as thriving and not merely surviving but I’m not there yet. When people ask me how I made it through my childhood it can be hard to answer. Some of it was the methods I mentioned above, some was luck, and some was a toughness gifted to me through my parents. Yes, things were very hard but they could have been worse. Especially when you stop to consider how often I was left unsupervised. In many ways my life is a miracle. I’m here and I’m safe.
If you are a survivor I hope you can hear this next part very clearly. If you need to numb or dissociate to get through whatever you are going through do not beat yourself up. Are there better coping mechanisms? Sure, but sometimes you can’t reach them for a whole host of reasons and so doing the best you can today is ok. I am 51 and I have been working on healing myself for a long time. We are not all in the same place and so wherever you are I’m glad you’re here and I hope that tomorrow is a better day. When I speak about my own survival I am not judging you for where you are in your journey towards healing.
In a previous chapter I spoke about how there was an uncurrent of sexual tension within the church. Along with that there was an emphasis on money. I can remember many times hearing about how it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. I heard that message over the pulpit and in Sunday School class. It was a popular message so you might be inclined to believe that money was not important within the church but you would be wrong. Wealth was often on display and as a kid I knew that I was poor in comparison to others. I do not blame anyone for having more money than we did but I have to question how those with more treated those with less. Calvary Gospel did not teach prosperity gospel in the way that we think of it now but the seeds of that teaching could be seen. The message my mother and others received was that if you had your life right with God you would be blessed and if you did not have enough resources to survive you should look toward your relationship with God. This was a tough pill for me to swallow. I prayed all the time in order to fix our poverty problem. I repented constantly and asked God to bless my faith and nothing really changed much for us. Even during the good times we lived in conditions most people would not tolerate. I also observed my mother’s incredible work ethic. She worked hard until her body couldn’t do it anymore. Her jobs were physical and then she would come home and work to try to make our home more liveable. For many years she prayed and prayed and I have to wonder if she just gave up and maybe that is why she stopped attending church.
I know my mother felt like she never had clothing good enough for that church. Growing up she always told me to wear my best for church because in doing so I was showing God respect. Once we started attending Calvary Gospel there was the added pressure to wear clothing that fit within their holiness standards. When my mother started to get sick she started to gain weight. She was on a lot of steroids. This made finding the right clothing even harder. There were not many shops where she could find affordable items that fit and also were in line with holiness standards. This became even harder once she became pregnant with my brother. She would tell me that she felt dumpy and embarrassed when she went to services. As far as class goes our family was at the very bottom. My mother had married a Mexican, my father, and they looked down on her for that. Then she divorced so that was another strike. She worked a job that required her to wear pants and then just because she decided to cut her hair. The fact that we were poor and it showed only pushed us farther down the ladder. Before I was making a little money babysitting my clothing was really awful. My mother pretty much only bought me clothing second hand. During one of our toughest times financially I only had three acceptable outfits and I wore them in rotation. My pantyhose, a requirement, often had runs and I was constantly trying to fix them with clear nail polish and hairspray. I almost missed out on a field trip for the honor roll because my school shoes had a hole in them. These shoes had been leaking water in making my pantyhose wet for weeks but now the hole was so bad I could no longer hide it.
When I was a young adult I attended a Southern Baptist church. One of the things they did really well was giving to those in need. They had a fund set aside in case a member lost their job or fell on hard times in some other way. I was so surprised to see the way they gave to and supported one another. It was not at all like what I grew up with. My memory of Calvary Gospel is of a congregation devoid of compassion. Sure there were flickers now and then but as a whole if you were struggling you were on your own. They were surely not going to sell their possessions and take up their crosses.
Earlier I wrote about how those with money did not treat those without money very well. If you did not have money you might be perceived as not having your house in order and so people might not include you in social gatherings. You would probably only have friends who were of the same class as you. My mother sat in a section of the church where many socially disadvantaged families sat. As I’m writing this it has come to me how most of the poor families and people of color sat on one side and then those who had higher status tended to sit on the other side. Many of the unpopular would sit near the back and then many of the people of color sat towards the front but on the same side.
In order to be truly close to God you needed to have high hair, nice clothing, and drive a nice car. It helped if you were white and attractive. Giving large sums of money to the church was also important. Tithing was important but then there was giving to missionaries, building funds, and paying for your child to attend the church’s school. It seemed never ending, they were always asking for something. My parents just did not have the money to fit in. Even if everything else about us had been different it would not have mattered because of the money.
When I started making a little money from babysitting and my father was doing well enough to give me a little money I started to buy clothing. Having nice dresses was all that mattered to me. It made it so much easier for me to fit in and at least feel like I looked like everyone else. I could pretend for a little while that I was just like them and then I’d have to go home to my mother’s house and it did not take long before I was reminded of who I really was.
Yes that is me. My face covered in acne and my uncut hair frizzy all over the place. Not exactly the picture of temptation that the church tried to make me feel I was. It was hard to walk the harsh line set in place by the church when all you want to do is get away from all of the adults and explore the world around you. That desire is normal and part of adolescent development. It felt like the harder we tried to be “normal” teens the harder the church tried to bind us closer. Shame was a tactic often used along with the old standby, fear. Pretty much everything that a teen would enjoy doing was off limits to us. This was a very tough time for me. I felt the pull of the “world” and then I felt guilty for desiring what is perfectly normal. Most of the things my friends and I did were so harmless. One thing we enjoyed was going to the movies. Now this was a big no no and so we often felt edgy and like big sinners when we did it. We would have one girl look out for church people and another buy the tickets. All the moves we went to see were G or PG rated. Things like “Pretty in Pink” and Disney movies. At times I would feel so guilty and swear to myself that I would not go again. It really made me feel sinful, but then at the same time the call of teen culture was very hard to resist. It was made harder by the fact that my parents did not see going to the movies as wrong. So I had to be my own spiritual police. I have happy memories of going to these movies with my friends. We would get candy and popcorn and for a little while we could forget the world we lived in. The movie theater was in the mall and one time a woman from the church did see us going in. She kinda waggled her finger at us but she did not tell on us. Interestingly she was also the women who helped my mother pay our light bill that one time. She was always kind to me and I’d like to think that when she saw us her compassion kept her from telling the pastor.
I would often have sleep overs and sometimes I would go to sleep overs. This did not start happening until I was maybe 14 or 15. Some of the more liberal parents would have me over and these same parents would let their daughters sleep over at my house from time to time. It didn’t happen all the time but maybe if one of the girls had a birthday or something like that. My one friend Joann and I would cuddle up on her bed and listen to the radio. Usually to hear this one love song that we liked, “Almost Paradise”. It was 1984 and Footlose was the movie associated with the song. We watched Footlose in the theater and the story resonated with us. We could understand what those kids were going through, a town that outlawed dancing sounded an awful lot like our church. One particular weekend her parents let us go down to the local county fair and we walked around trying to look like everyone else in our skirts and uncut hair. We talked to boys our age, worldly boys, and for one night I felt kinda normal. These boys were not bad boys, they did not try to get us drunk or get us into bed, they just wanted to talk with girls their own age. Looking back I can’t help but comment on the difference between “worldly boys” and church boys/men. I can only speak from my experience, whenever I interacted with boys outside the church they were very sweet to me. They did not try to get into my skirts or lead me down a path away from the church. Usually they just wanted to talk on the phone or watch tv with me. Without exception, every boy I dated within the church tried to be sexual with me in some way. You might say that maybe they thought I was easy because they knew about SD and what happened when I was younger, but it wasn’t just boys from my own church. It also happened with boys I met at church camp and other youth activities. They all wanted one thing, physical intimacy. Some were sweet and innocent in their approach and others were downright grabby. I suspect that this is because of the churches attitude regarding sexuality. You are not supposed to think about it, talk about it, or act on any desires unless you are married. I am not advocating that teens be allowed to run out and have sex, but I do think that pretending that teens are not overrun with hormones and questions about sex is just ignorant. Creating an enviroment where just thinking about it and having questions is frowmed upon causes curiosity to bubble over. I’m about to make a rather blunt statement that could be viewed as controversial, but by now I think if you’re still reading you’re expecting my opinions to be this way. I think the church watched young teen (and in some cases pre-teen)girls being courted by adult men way too old to be trying to gain the attention of these teens. I believe many in leadership thought it better that these teens be courted by adult men than boys their own age outside the church. The boys outside the UPC were seen as bad influences but the adult men trying to sleep with teen girls were seen as safe choices. When I was a teen I had five or so dating options within my church. You are not supposed to date outside the UPC and long distance dating often did not last. If you did not like the boys in your immediate area you would just have to pray God would bring the right boy at the right age into your church. When I say 5 or so options that was including at least one boy who some would argue was too old for me. I was attracted to older guys, like in their 20s but luckily for me none of them bothered me too much. That being said it is normal for teen girls to get crushes on guys who are too old for them. These church guys are dressed nice, they smell better than teen boys, and they are just more mature. The trouble comes in when the adult men are paying too much attention to these girls. What teen girl within the church would want to date an akward teen boy vs a handsome man who is also manipulating her? You watch them in church, these men, and they are all putting on a godly show, and so you think you will be safe with them. Then when they get you alone it is another story. This is complicated by the fact that females are expected to guard everyone’s purity. It doesn’t matter if you’re 11 and he is 29. Even though these men are fully grown adults they are often seen as the victims.
I dated, if you can call walking around together at camp dating, a few boys. For the most part they were all preachers kids. All of them were pretty experienced sexually. They all wanted to find a dark corner to kiss and pet in. It almost seemed like they had something to prove. I don’t blame them, they were young like me and trying to figure out the world. They probably suffered being a preacher’s kid, I’m sure that road had to be a tough one. As strict as the church was regarding sexuality, as much as they tried to ignore it and pretend sex wasn’t happening, it was going on all around them. I’ve said this before, I think the UPC has a sex problem. I feel the more you try to ignore something the bigger it becomes. I think that had they just been willing to speak more openly about it that might have acted as a release valve.
I fell in love or what I thought was love. I was 16 and there was a part of me that thought I might marry this boy. What I witnessed within the church is people date and then they get married. We actually dated a couple of times, once when I was about 15 and we got back together when I was 16. We spent a lot of time together and talked on the phone every night. He was the one, I was sure. In the end he broke my heart. This might sound silly and trite but it was awful. I sat by him at school, we had assigned seats, and our world was so small I could not escape him. It did not help that he started dating my nemesis the next day. I want to be clear that we were teens and I’m not trying to drag either of these people for who they are now. When he broke up with me he said this, “I’m breaking up with you because I cannot keep my hands off of you.” I admit we did make out a lot. Up until this point he had never mentioned it being an issue, in fact he was the driver in that part of our relationship. I said yes to his advances because I thought that is was what I had to do to keep a boyfriend. We never had sex, I’m pretty sure I would have said no to that. I wanted to save myself for marriage, but heavy petting I would allow. I can’t say that I blame him now he was a boy trying to figure things out too. His mother, the dreaded church secretary, hated me and I’m sure she reminded him often that she did not approve of our relationship. At least a couple of times I heard her say things that were pretty unkind regarding me, I believe she wanted me to hear. My nemesis was the direct opposite from me. She was white, blondish brown hair, and her dad was an elder. They had money and now he is a minister within the church. She was a golden child. This doesn’t mean she did not do all of the things I did, it meant that people didn’t care. Only the lower classes get held to the strict standards. They can turn a blind eye if you are the right kind of person, much like my abuser SD.
When this relationship ended it broke something inside of me. Seeing him walking around with my oh so perfect nemesis was almost unbearable. It was a final “fuck you” from the church or that is how it felt. This was the start of a long time period of almost constant shut down or dissociation for me. The first thing I did was I found the baddest boy (actually he was a man within the church) I could and I started to date him. His name was Mike and he was a known problematic church member. He was in his early 20’s and I was 16. BTW, no one ever questioned our age difference and no one ever checked in with me or counselled me about it. Mike had been in and out of the church as long as I could remember. I had known him since I was a preteen. He has done time and I think he just recently got out of jail. He was a drug dealer and user and felt like the most dangerous choice on the menu. He would attend church and rededicate his life to God and then backslide. I ran into him on the backslide and we became an item. He started coming to church with me and I reveled in the looks of disapproval. It wasn’t his age that was the issue, it was his sinfulness. Members of his family were part of the “in” circle so that meant they cut him a little slack but I don’t think anyone trusted him or believed his godliness would stick. We would sit together in church and then he would take me back to his place. I would watch him and his friends play guitar and smoke weed. I felt bad like I had switched sides and now I was walking in darkness. He took my virginity and I did not care. It felt like something to be crossed off a list. They think I’m a slut so I will be a slut! It wasn’t about enjoying the sex, I didn’t, it was about giving up and giving into my destiny. I was destined to be rejected by God and hell was all that was awaiting me. I conflated the church’s rejection with God’s.
Mike learned one thing from the church and he learned it well, women are property. Even though he smoked weed and drank he would never let me partake. He said that he had to protect me. This might sound sweet to some people but trust me it was not. He was very critical of everything I did and more than a little jealous. It soon became clear to me that I was his Madonna figure. When he finally got his life straightened out he would marry me and be a good Christian man. He had to preserve me for that moment. Just like SD would rail at me when I was 11 Mike would rail at me about our sinful behavior. When he was backslidden he would want and expect sex but when he was trying to be a Christian he would tell me what an evil temptress I was. He would write me long letters about how bad I was and he would even break things off with me, then a week later he would be begging me to give him another chance. I showed my friends some of his letters and they started to tell me that they thought he was psycho. His letters would sometimes be 7 to 10 pages of handwritten text, double sided, on notebook paper. He was a musician and so he would often include song lyrics. “…American woman, get away from me, American woman, mama let me be. Don’t come knockin around my door, don’t want to see your face no more. Colored lights can hypnotize, sparkle someone else’s eyes…” “Been dazed and confused for so long it’s not true, wanted a woman never bargained for you. Lots of people talk and few of them know, the soul of a woman was created below…” Now I had not been exposed to these kinds of songs. Yes, I did enjoy popular music but it was the 80’s and when I snuck to listen to the radio it was Madonna not Led Zeppelin I was tuning into. I started to become afraid of him. Eventually it was me who ended things. He did not let go easily. In fact he stalked me at my job, and had to be removed by my boss at one point. His excuse was that I was his virgin. He deserved to own me because he took my virginity. I get where this idea came from. In our church if you were single and caught having sex you had to get married. That was the right thing to do. Once he had sex with me it was his duty and right to marry me…eventually. In the meantime I had to wait for him to figure his life out. He would show up at my house and question me about who I had been with and what we had been doing. Eventually he faded away.
Often Mike would not attend church with me and so I would go alone. I still went to everything but I became as silent as the grave. I no longer went out after church with my friends and I no longer sat with anyone. My close friends would look at me with worry, this was a constant after my big relationship ended. My friends, teenage girls, stopped talking to him and even left the room if he entered. At school none of them would sit with him and eventually I got in trouble for it. I was told to call off my dogs more or less. The thing is they did this all on their own, a little rebellion because of the unfairness of everything. My closest friends were girls of color and also poor. They knew the score. I never told them to do anything, I was too broken. I think they were afraid. I was always the strong one and I just checked out. I stopped socializing at school, I stopped eating, and I stopped sitting with them at church. It came as no surprise to me that I was blamed. Eventually our principal called all of us older kids into a room and demanded that everyone be nice to him. We were a family and it was not ok to be angry at him for his choices, he was after all one of the chosen kids.
As you might expect, none of the adults around me, not even my youth pastor asked me if I was ok. I went from sitting in the 3rd row to sitting in the back by the door. I stopped opening my Bible during church and I stopped singing. I was defeated. I was tired and very depressed. I was going through the motions after years of struggle. I dissociated much of the time I was at church and I had become a shell of my former self. I know I have shared with you things that some might see as sinful, I see them as normal teen struggles. During the time I was a teen I also worked hard to serve within the church. I tried hard to be a good kid and I wanted God’s love and mercy, I just never felt like I could attain it. I would go to camp and be so uplifted and then I would come home to my own church and the feelings of depression and defeat would return. I kept pushing on despite my pain until I had to leave out of self preservation. That is a story for another day.
A while back a fellow survivor said something to me that I cannot stop thinking about. She described the church we grew up in as having a caste system. A caste system is a cultural structure where your class is determined by birth. So if you’re born a certain race or in a certain social economic class you cannot escape it. I believe this is true for people within Calvary Gospel. I think I was keenly aware of it during my childhood. No matter what I did right I would never rise above the poverty and race of my family. Plus I had this sin stain on me like a scarlet letter. They would really never let you forget who you were in their eyes. Small daily occurrences would remind you of your place. If you were born into the right family you could get away with almost anything. If you were not then the hot spotlight of shame and humiliation would be shone on you. I was never spanked at school but many others were. The “right” kids never got spanked, but if you were a poor child or a child of color your chances of being whacked went up considerably. One little girl comes to mind. She was a beautiful child and very high strung. She was not a child of color but came from an economically disadvantaged family with an unpopular mother. She was spanked a lot. She was not the kind of child you would expect to sit in a tiny office all day staring at the wall but that did not matter. She was bright and full of energy! I got the feeling that most of the adults working within the church and school did not like her and I always felt sadness for her. I babysat for her and her siblings and never really had any issues. I think she just needed to burn off steam, she may have been hyperactive, for sure she was not getting what she needed from the school. Hers is a common story. The perceived sins of the parents rolled down unto the children and for those of us at the bottom of the food chain things could feel pretty cold at times. At least I was old enough to understand in some ways why things were happening to me but I feel for the little ones who had no clue.
Sometimes I felt like a workhorse. I was a smart kid and driven by ambition. We never associated with other schools even within the UPC. There were no plays to try out for or academic meets to compete in. If you were into sports you were out of luck because the church wasn’t big on sports. Don’t cheer for a team, cheer for Jesus! We did not have band or music lessons outside of singing in the youth choir. Then came Bible Quizzing. I do not remember how quizzing was introduced to our congregation but I joined up right away. I was the captain of our Senior Bible quiz team the entire time I was on the team. The UPC had two levels of quizzing back then, junior and senior. Elementary kids would be on the junior team and then the older kids would compete on the senior level. I never quizzed as a junior because we did not have teams when I was at that age. The UPC is pretty picky about what translation of the Bible you can use. The church of my childhood only read and studied from the King James Version. To this day any other version just doesn’t sound like the Bible to me. Before we ever had a quiz team I knew that I was special because I could read the King James version better than other kids my age. I had been reading above grade level since I started to read. I won big parts in the Christmas programs because I could read the text better. In some ways this raised my status. Normally being brown and poor would have kept me out of the spotlight. At times I would be disappointed because I wanted to be a shepherd or angel, but instead I had to stand at the podium and read. One year for Easter I was allowed to play the part of a Pharisee. I got some laughs from the congregation and it was really fun. When we started quiz teams I quickly rose to the top because of my strong reading and the fact that I could memorize scripture very easily. I worked hard at whatever I did. That hard work and dedication made me the best candidate for captain.
I have many happy memories of quizzing. I won trophy after trophy and that really built up my confidence. I felt needed and enjoyed the experience of being part of a team, that was the good part. There was a dark side, because of course there was. My coach Perry drove me very hard. He put expectations on me that he did not come close to putting on the other kids. I feel he liked all of the attention we were receiving from the church leadership as we traveled around the state racking up wins. Soon winning became everything and the pressure on me as captain of the team was very high. I feel Perry knew that I was pretty much a free range child and no one was going to complain if I was driven to exhaustion. He was completely without empathy or compassion. As time went on I became more aware of his attitude towards me and it was heartbreaking. In the beginning I felt very accepted by him and his wife Connie. We traveled the state together and it felt good to get praise and a sense of belonging from adults. By the time it was over I felt like a tool that had outlived its usefulness.
I was really struggling with algebra during this time. I went to Perry and told him I needed help. I could not manage all of the verses he wanted me to memorize and get through the math homework I was saddled with. I would cry alone in my room trying to get the story problems right knowing that I had hours of memorization to complete. Not to mention all of the scripture memorization that had to happen for my school work. Something had to give and school always came first. At this point he was having me memorize all of my chapters and when that was complete circle around and memorize everyone else’s material. He told me as captain I had to be able to answer every question that might come up, I mean what if someone gets sick? He did not have much confidence in my teammates and so the pressure all fell on me. Each team had three main players at the table and could have two substitutes waiting behind them. One season we memorized Paul’s epistles and each of us had an “equal” number of chapters to memorize. At one time I had most of them committed to memory. You were required to answer the questions verbatim and any wrong word would mean not getting points. It amazes me to think of it now! What if I had been encouraged to use that power to learn and memorize more useful things? What could I have done?
I was a little afraid to talk to Perry about my problems but I made myself do it. At this point I was 15 and I was trying to handle things in an adult manner. I figured I just need to have an adult heart to heart with him. He would see how much I had thought about it and how troubled I was and surely help me out. I told him I needed a lighter load because I really needed to focus on my school issues. As you might expect I did not get any help or permission to rest from him. Scowling at me he reminded me of how important my role was and told me I just needed to dig deep and work harder. At first I did not push back and walking away my load felt even heavier than when I first sat down with him.
As time marched on, the stress of a number of things started to add up. Perry was not a very nice guy and over time this became very apparent. He was controlling and could really behave like a brute. He was ex-military and it showed. He treated his wife like a servant and would berate her in front of us. She was a gentle soul, the perfect submissive wife. By this time there was a tiny flame of anger always burning within me. I would watch how he behaved and it made me want to lose the quiz meets. I did not want to win for him. Two things happened that I believed pushed me to the edge. One was I got sick. I mean really sick the night before an out of town quiz meet. I was running a high fever and I had a very painful sore throat. It came out of nowhere. My mother had bundled me up in front of the t.v. and told me there was no way I could compete the next day. I cried, sobbed, all of the pressure running out of me. I was falling apart and this meant she had to act. She called Perry and told him I was really sick and couldn’t compete. He asked to speak to me. I’m sure just to verify that I sounded sick. He told me he would have the whole church pray and he was sure I would be fine the next day. At that moment I didn’t care. My head was so hot and my whole body ached. I was healed! Well kinda, the next day my fever broke and my sore throat was much better. I was still running a low grade fever and coughing, my body hurt everywhere and I was exhausted but my recovery was good enough to call it a miracle for the team. I won that day and it was all due to the power of prayer. Perry saw it as another sign that my being on the team was God’s will.
Next came my worst day as the team captain. We went to Sturtevant Wisconsin for an important competition and I almost refused to show up to play. I was getting towards the end of my ability to be around him. He had yelled at his wife the night before for something that was clearly his fault. I was so embarrassed for her and I told him he was being a jerk. This kind of behavior was unheard of for a young woman of my age, and he yelled at me and told me I was being rebellious. That was a serious accusation in my church. Witches were rebellious and we all know what the Bible says about witches.
“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” Exodus 22:18
I ran up to the room I was staying in and sobbed with hot anger. I turned on my little radio to the most sinful music I could find, Rock You Like A Hurricane by Scorpions. I could not play it loudly so I had to press my ear to the speaker. I had so much pent up rage. Being angry was just not done by women and I had been storing mine for a long long time. A couple of my teammates came in and talked me down. They convinced me to play the next day. They all witnessed how Perry behaved and they agreed with me even if they did not have the courage to speak up. We all sat there in silence. The room filled with tension and a sense of hopelessness. I went to the meet the next day but my heart wasn’t in it. I was a zombie. I recognize this feeling even now. I get very still and expressionless. It’s like I just shut down. I did not answer many questions that day and many adults asked me if I was ok. It was obvious I was not, Perry was livid, and I just wanted to run away. Little did I know that was one of my last games. Soon after I quit. Perry was not ok with my choice but had little power to stop me. After that he turned most of his focus to the junior team and I started to fade away. I’m proud of my young self for setting boundaries. This brave action set my feet on the path of leaving.
The exhibition game. When our team first started to compete it became apparent that I was a force to be reckoned with. There was only one person in the state who could beat me and another who was always at my heels. Perry got this idea in his head that it would be good for us to have an exhibition game with some of the ministers from our congregation. At first this idea excited me because I thought it would be a chance for me to compete with people who should know all of this material better than me, a real competition! Sadly it did not turn out that way. They did not require the ministers to follow the rules of how the game was played and they basically rigged it for them to win. I was so angry and I’m sure it showed. I have little ability to hide my true feelings. My face always reveals what is happening inside. It also became clear to me that they did not know the Bible as well as I did. Perry thought that I enjoyed showing them up a little too much and told me to remain humble. At the time it was just another way the church reminded me of my place. Now I know that we really won but they could not allow a female-led teen quiz team to beat the anointed of God. This is just another way they stole my joy and made me feel that any pride that I might have was wrong.
In the end, I was encouraged to win but to not ask questions. I digested the scripture and tried to understand it. I would ask questions and often the answer would be that I could ask Jesus in heaven. My questions only generated more questions in my mind. Scripture just didn’t add up and all of my questioning made me a troublemaker. They couldn’t or were unwilling to see that I wanted to know God, they saw it as questioning God. As I got older I developed the opinion that I knew more about the Bible than many of our ministers did. This did not help me to respect them. They did not see my intellect as a blessing but instead looked down on me because of it. This made me feel really bad about myself. It made me question why God had created me this way. On the other hand, it feels good to know that you are smart and so I was always conflicted.
I see Bible Quizzing as just another way the church sucked all of the joy out of my life. I found this thing that I was really good at and it made me proud of myself. For a moment I felt some self worth. When we would travel the quiz masters would always have kind words for me and they would encourage me to keep going. Because of Perry’s pride and selfishness I was driven too hard and I eventually quit. I lost out on the joy of what I loved to do because Perry could not accept anything less than 110%. By the way, he only demanded that from me. I think the other kids had parents who would have put a stop to that intensity but he knew mine would be hands off. Once I left Perry stopped talking to me. When my usefulness was spent I was invisible to him.
Debbie McNulty 