The Toxic Rhetoric of Forgiveness.

Until we can forgive, we remain locked in our pain and locked out of the possibility of experiencing healing and freedom, locked out of the possiblity of feeling peace. -Desmond Tutu

Trigger Warning: If you're sensitive to discussions of sexual trauma or physical abuse or are currently in therapy for either, you may want to skip this post. I don’t go into graphic detail but I do lightly touch on my experience.

To those who preach forgiveness as a necessity, like Desmond f*cking Tutu, I ask: Why place the burden solely on the victim? Why disregard their trauma and demand forgiveness? By doing so, aren't you minimizing their pain and the severity of the offense?

Let's get real about "Forgiveness." I believe it's often toxic rhetoric, especially when pushed by religious institutions. You absolutely do not need to forgive to find peace. Some acts are simply unforgivable, and I'll explore a significant one in this post.

The relentless pressure to forgive can be a tool of oppression, particularly in cases of abuse and systemic injustice. When a woman is murdered by her abusive spouse, society often shifts the blame, asking, "Why didn't she leave?" while simultaneously preaching the gospel of forgiveness. This insidious combination reinforces power imbalances, silencing victims and absolving abusers of responsibility. By demanding forgiveness, we perpetuate a system where victims are expected to bear the burden of healing while their abusers face minimal consequences. This not only undermines the severity of the abuse but also reinforces the power dynamics that allowed it to occur in the first place. Forgiveness, in these instances, becomes a tool to maintain the status quo, rather than a path to genuine healing and justice.

My healing journey after childhood sexual abuse was long and complex. I spent years navigating anger, depression, and confusion. Growing up in the Catholic Church, where a woman's worth was equated with her virginity, only intensified my trauma. Being preached to forgive the man who stole my innocence at an age when I still believed in fairy tales felt deeply unjust.

Today, I've built a beautiful life despite that darkness. But looking back, there's no forgiveness in my heart. I'm entitled to my anger, and I refuse to let go of the grief for the childhood I should have had. And yet, even without forgiveness, I've found peace. I'm proud of the resilience I've shown, and I refuse to let that experience define me. My story proves that healing doesn't always require forgiveness; sometimes, it's about reclaiming your power and finding peace on your own terms.

My experience underscores a crucial truth: sometimes, justice is more important than forgiveness. While society pressures victims to forgive, seeking accountability for the harm done can be a vital part of healing. For me, there will be no absolution for the man who abused me. Instead, I find solace in knowing that my anger is justified, and my refusal to forgive doesn't diminish my journey toward peace. In cases of abuse and trauma, prioritizing justice over forgiveness can empower survivors, validate their experiences, and challenge the systems that enable such harm.

The relentless pressure to forgive can be a heavy burden, often leading victims to internalize blame and shame. My own upbringing in the church compounded this, instilling the belief that my abuse was somehow my fault, a punishment for being "bad." The constant preaching of forgiveness made me feel like my anger and grief were unjustified, further blurring the lines between victim and perpetrator. For years, I carried the weight of that guilt, convinced I was the problem. While I acknowledge that some of my subsequent behaviors were problematic, they were a direct result of the trauma I endured. The abuse itself was never my fault. I was, and always will be the victim in that situation because I was a child.

The insidious pressure to forgive, especially in abusive relationships, can tragically enable abusers and perpetuate the cycle of harm. When victims are constantly told to forgive, it reinforces the abuser's power, minimizing their actions and shifting the responsibility for healing onto the survivor. This creates a dangerous dynamic where victims internalize blame and question their own feelings of anger and hurt, making them more likely to stay in the abusive situation. The abuser, meanwhile, receives implicit permission to continue their harmful behavior, knowing that forgiveness will likely be granted, regardless of their actions. This toxic pattern keeps victims trapped, their self-worth eroded, and the cycle of abuse spinning endlessly.

Acceptance has been crucial to my healing. While I can't change the past, I refuse to ignore the fact that things could have been different – they could have been so much better. I allow myself to grieve for the childhood I was denied. I don't condone or excuse my abuser's actions, but I acknowledge what happened and how it shaped my life. Acceptance means recognizing my strength in building a fulfilling life despite the trauma. It's not about forgiving or forgetting; it's about making peace with the past and choosing to embrace the present.

Therapy helped me understand a profound truth: closure is often an illusion. My abuser was gone, and even if he were alive, confronting him wouldn't provide the answers I craved. Abusers rarely comprehend the depths of their actions, or they twist reality to justify them. Instead, I found liberation in focusing on the life I'd built. Witnessing the joy and freedom my children experience, knowing I'd broken the cycle of trauma, filled me with a sense of purpose. That beautiful, evolving life became my closure, my revenge. And it all unfolded without the need for forgiveness.

I've learned to embrace self-care as a vital part of my healing journey. I allow my grief to flow freely when it needs to, honoring the child I once was and the innocence that was stolen. Validating my own feelings, rather than suppressing them, has been transformative. When those emotions surface, I engage in activities that bring me peace – whether it's mowing the lawn, tending to my garden, or simply allowing myself to rest. Prioritizing self-care isn't selfish; it's essential for rebuilding a life shattered by trauma.

The pervasive "forgive for you" rhetoric, while often well-intentioned, can inflict significant harm on survivors of trauma. It places the burden of healing solely on the victim, disregarding their pain and minimizing the severity of the offense. This pressure to forgive can enable abusers, perpetuate cycles of harm, and lead to internalized blame and shame. It's crucial to recognize that forgiveness isn't a one-size-fits-all solution; healing takes many forms, and prioritizing justice or focusing on self-care can be equally valid paths to recovery.

To all survivors, I urge you: to prioritize your healing and well-being, regardless of whether you choose to forgive. Your journey is unique, and there's no right or wrong way to navigate it. Don't let anyone dictate your path to recovery. Embrace the emotions you feel, seek support when needed, and reclaim your power. Remember, your worth isn't contingent on forgiveness; it's inherent. You deserve peace and happiness, on your terms.

Instead of pressuring survivors to forgive, let's shift the focus towards empathy and support. Replace the harmful "forgive for you" rhetoric with phrases that validate their experiences and empower their healing journeys. "I believe you," "It's not your fault," and "You're not alone" can make a world of difference. Let's create a culture where survivors feel safe to express their emotions, prioritize their well-being, and seek justice on their own terms. True healing begins with compassion, not coercion.

Sincerely,

A woman at peace who has never forgiven her abuser.