Finding My Voice: Survivor Noelle

 

By Noelle Myers

“Children should be seen and not heard” is a phrase many of us grew up with. This phrase is an old English proverb, dating from the 15th century and was written by an Augustinian clergyman. At that time, the phrase was not aimed specifically at young women. Yet it was something most of us, especially women, in the cult, knew and understood applied to us. It may not have been explicitly said, but it most certainly was implied. Women, in particular, were to be meek, silent, and submissive. We were to be “seen” (but only if we fit a certain mold – looked a certain way).

As a child, many of us were taught not to speak unless spoken to, to remain meek and sweet, no matter what the circumstances, and to always, always acquiesce to “authority” (read: male) figures. The pastor was akin to God Himself, infallible, never to be questioned – but so were most of the men, especially those in positions of power. We were never to complain about anything, not the ice-cold French fries served at a restaurant, or the fact that the pastor’s son had struck me with a hockey stick because I was playing too close to the place he and the older boys were playing hockey. When I cried to a teacher about the teen boys calling me a bastard, because I was adopted, I was told I was being too sensitive. By the time the teen boys put me in the storm drain to rescue their baseball, I knew not to bother telling anyone. 

This mentality, while at first seems merely antiquated and mostly harmless, leads to a much, much darker truth. Women and children’s voices don’t matter in the IFB (or many other cults, but I can only speak to IFB) or to put it more plainly – Women and children don’t matter in the IFB. We are simply a form of slave labor for a power-hungry man who stands in the pulpit. Which means when a 16-year-old girl goes to the pastor and says someone is stalking her, and has assaulted her he says, “Are you stupid? What did you do to make him so angry?”  Effectively silencing her for the next 20 years. When a 26-year-old woman tells him that she was raped, and her rapist – a preacher boy in the church – broke into her home, he tells her, “That doesn’t matter, you are being disciplined for your relationship with an ‘unbeliever’” (a man she had at that time gone on one date with). When a 4-year-old told her parents a teen boy babysitter had molested her, the preacher told her parents she was lying, and they tried to “spank” it out of her (FYI – she still tells the same story 30+ years later.) Or when a teen girl goes to the pastor to tell him another teen in the youth group assaulted her, she is forced to keep silent, and continue attending youth group with her assaulter, or be labeled and ostracized. (Think shunning, like the Amish.) Not once was the man/perpetrator held responsible, or punished, or even truly confronted. 

Domestic abuse, marital rape, child abuse, these are all swept under the rug, ignored, and silenced. When a woman leaves, they are labeled as rebellious and bitter, with the truth twisted into a maze of lies, usually by the pastor himself.  

When you grow up in this environment, finding your voice seems hopeless. It starts with finding your worth, which, as you can see in the paragraphs above, we were taught was nothing. But here is the truth: You matter. You are worthy. You deserve a voice. Your voice is valid and oh SO important. The world desperately needs voices like yours. 

One of my favorite quotes is “Speak your mind (truth) even if your voice shakes.” (Maggie Kuhn) Well, believe me my voice shakes, even still.  I do find it easier to speak up on behalf of others, versus myself, but I am learning to do that as well. So how does one begin to find your voice?  For me, it began with something many people can do without thought – returning an incorrect order at a restaurant. I was twenty-some years old, out with a friend at a local restaurant. My meal came to the table stone cold.  Fries, burger, all of it.  My friend, a woman about two years older than me, who was not a part of the church was quite upset, I didn’t even think about it, just was trying to not cause trouble. She would have none of it. Called the waitress over, but then waited for me to tell the waitress what was wrong. I stumbled through an apologetic whispering “my food is cold,” and almost started crying. To my horror, not only did she whisk away my food, but a manager also came over to talk to us. I was certain I was going to get yelled at, but no. He listened, apologized, replaced the food, and comped my meal.

Did that one experience suddenly unlock the chains around my voice? No, but it was the start of me speaking up for myself, in small but impactful ways. Next came advocating for myself with friends, setting boundaries with safe people. I remember one friend in particular helping me practice saying no.  She would ask me to do something I could not do, and I had to tell her no. Some things were funny or easy, and others not so much. My friend - “Would you like some Brussel sprouts.”  Pause… (I Loathe Brussel sprouts. Ew…) “You can say no. I won’t be offended.” Another long Pause… whispered – “No, Thank you.” Cue my friend clapping and cheering – “Yay you did it.”

I found a doctor and advocated for myself, found a therapist (or a few of them) and went to a boundaries setting class, read books, talked to other survivors, and googled a lot. Slowly I was able to come out of my shell a little bit. Then came the self-worth work.  I won’t lie – I still struggle with this.  Years of trauma, sexual assault, being a survivor of human trafficking, and escaping from a cult have all taken their toll on my (fragile) self-esteem, but I am getting better. A big part of your voice is how you speak to yourself. Most of us say things to ourselves that we would never ever say to someone else.  “Ugh, I am so fat.”  “Ugh, stupid idiot,” “You lazy bum.”  I am super guilty of this, and am working hard at talking to myself as kindly as I would to a friend or a child. I fail more often than not, but I am getting better at it. 

Another key to finding your voice, I believe, is to find something you are passionate about to speak up about. As a survivor of multiple sexual assaults and traumas, I am very passionate about helping other survivors. I started a non-profit that is aimed at restoring dignity to victims as soon as possible, through several programs, and it has given me an enormous platform to speak on (and about). It is a challenge for me at times, directly linking to triggers and fears often. But if I can do it, so can you. My therapist once asked me what I was afraid of. Everything. I am afraid of everything. Men, bees, sharks, deep water, the dark, police officers, long grass (there might be raptors. Lol). All. The. Things. Writing this blog post – Terrifying. More than one panic attack involved. But here’s the thing: I lived silent and silenced for too long. Never again. The freedom that comes with finding your voice is worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for. I will continue to fight for not just my voice, but yours too. 

There is more to Maggie Kuhn’s quote than the part most people recognize. The full quote states - “Leave safety behind. Put your body on the line. Stand before the people you fear and speak your mind – even if your voice shakes. When you least expect it, someone may actually listen to what you have to say. Well-aimed slingshots can topple giants. And do your homework.”  All of this is important. But especially the part about “do your homework.”  Speak your truth, but make sure you know the facts, do the research, don’t just blindly spout things or forward a meme or link (as so many do). Don’t add to the cacophony of hate that abounds, especially on social media. Read the article, the whole thing, and check its sources, and its funding. Always follow the money. Always. Speak from a place of knowledge.  Knowledge is a solid foundation, and it assures that even if our voice shakes, it will not crumble.

This story was shared as part of the project called Out of Oceania: Survivors Share Their Stories, an originial series by this blog. To read more stories, click here.

Photo courtesty: Unsplash & Project Dignity