Once Upon a Time in My Oceania

  By Ida McGrail Women are taught in many Christian circles that their worth comes from the mere fact that they are a virgin. It becomes a part of their identity. Stay pure, they say. True love waits. In youth group we wore the promise rings and signed the purity pledges. We read books like “I Kissed Dating Goodbye.”  We were admonished not to kiss our significant other; some of us could not even hold their hands. From a very young age, girls were taught that their virginity was what defined them, and without it, we were just “damaged goods” or “a rose that had all its petals plucked.” These dangerous lies filled my head for years, culminating when I was sexually assaulted at the age of 12. It warped my view of myself, sending me down a road of depression and self harm for the next 13 years, until I was able to create and maintain a healthy view of myself, as I learned, finally, that it was not my fault. Coming to that conclusion, however, was a long road and a difficult one, as I batt

  A lot of people ask me often if my faith is intact after everything I’ve gone through. This is a question that I’ve received countless times as a survivor of church abuse and religious trauma. I suppose it’s a relevant question after growing up where religion was a prominent fixture in my life. My spiritual journey isn’t one I often talk about. Granted, I do share what I feel were problematic teachings that leant to the abuse I and others have experienced. But truly have I broken down my thoughts, feelings, and opinions on religion? No, I haven’t. I’m unlikely to completely start doing that now either. This is partly because like everything else, I’m still learning about it. In the beginning days on my journey, especially after leaving the IFB, I was extremely close to God. I found such healing and the ability to break away more freely with recognizing that an all-powerful being was one of love. I would say at that time I was very progressive in Christianity if I was searching for