Awareness Wednesday: I Want to Understand Why.

this week i'm going to talk about a relatively recent revelation.

it's going to seem out of place at first, but bear with me for a moment. 

this past february, one of the interns for my campus ministry hosted a small group on race in the church.

before our first meeting i was sitting on the couch, preparing myself for just a brief history about racial relations in the US and how they developed.

our group settled in and listened to the introduction.

well, to be completely honest, i was half listening and half convincing myself the conversation was not going to mentally exhaust me because of everything else i needed to devote my energy to later that afternoon.

before i knew it, we were in the midst of the prologue and the following words momentarily jerked me out of my thoughts.

 

"racism perpetuates itself through generations. it's kind of like those that abuse were [most likely] abused."

(hind sight: what a strange comparison. not untrue, but strange.) 

let those words sink in one more time...

those that abuse were [most likely] abused

my breath caught in my throat and i involuntarily reached for my notebook. my hand just started writing.

was he abused?

does he abuse us because he sees that as a way to regain the power that was taken away from him?

who? who destroyed the little boy inside of him?

how long did it last? 

was nobody there to help him? 

i couldn't control the questions spilling out of my head.

it was the first time i had ever considered the other side of it.

i had been so wrapped up in my own view of the situation and my own healing. i was so concerned about the terrible things he had done to me and how it was ruining my life, or at the very least making is unnecessarily difficult. at times i obsessed over ways to put him behind bars and destroy his ability to hang out anywhere children could possibly be. all i wanted was for him to feel even an ounce of the pain he had caused me and everyone else around me. all i wanted for him to say was “kayla, i’m so sorry. i know i hurt you in unimaginable ways. i know what i did was wrong. i am through with it all now. i found Jesus and He changed my life for the better.”

for 21 years.

for 21 years it was all about me.

sure, i had forgiven him, but the idea that maybe he actually was hurting just as badly as me, if not more than me, struck me hard.

i mean, can you imagine being driven to find sexual comfort in children? and not necessarily just children in general, but children within your own family? can you imagine being in a place in your life where that is justifiable in your head and in your heart? seriously, what must you have gone through? what happened? what prevented you from healing from those terrible things?

the questions could go on forever.

i remember only snippets of the remainder of that hour, but i will never forget the foreign feeling that washed over me in one of the most comfortable places i have here at school. 

the last thing i wrote before we closed in prayer was one simple statement...

i want to understand why. 

what would the world be like if we considered the silent storms that were raging on in the people who have lashed out at us the worst?

how different might my situation be if i had a conversation with him about what happened? (that is assuming he would even acknowledge a conversation like that.)

i think it is so so so important to be aware of the “victim” side of National Child Abuse Prevention Month and Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month, but i think it is equally as important to be aware of the “perpetrator” side of it too.

we, myself included, so often think only badly of those that commit sexual assault. and assault is bad, it is SO bad. but how can we expect these people to heal from their terrible nature if we put them in a box and don’t give them the room to change and turn away from their actions? we all struggle to own the sins we commit. we all do terrible things. we should all be given the opportunity to better ourselves if we so desire. 

[i am NOT justifying assault, like whatsoever. i just think we should create safe spaces for those that commit the act in addition to those that fall to the act. definitely not in the same place. i had to move to the other side of the US to even begin to heal. proximity is no bueno in this case.]

one last thing before i sign off:

a friend reached out to me this past week and allowed me to be a little part of her healing process. i asked her if she would like to share her story as a part of this series, and she said yes. she has chosen to remain anonymous.

if you would like to add your story to this testimonial series as a form of awareness and/or healing, i would love to add it to the collection! (this can have a name attached, or it can be 100% anonymous.)