To The Survivors Of James Dobson: You Win

I have no physical scars. My parents weren’t Dobsonites – although they came out of the same religion and culture that produced Dobson – and in any case, they weren’t abusive, at least not by the standards of the time.

I have many emotional and spiritual scars. To be fair, the fundamentalist church and their theologies and doctrines are responsible for far more of my scars than my parents – theologies and doctrines James Dobson preached and promoted.

Some of those scars are healed. Some are healing. And some will likely never heal. Such is life.

Some of those scars got opened up again after the death of James Dobson. A few people were taking pleasure in his death, but most were simply telling their stories, bearing witness to the legacy of a man who encouraged others to do evil and called it good.

I’m glad he’s gone and can cause no more harm in this world… although his books remain, and there are plenty of others ready to take up his mantle. I do not believe in hell, but I would create one for Dobson and people like him.

That many of us have those thoughts tells us a lot about why the belief in eternal damnation – and the desire for it to be real – persists, but that’s another topic for another time.

But even if I could consign James Dobson to suffer the cumulative torment of every child he caused to suffer, that would not undo my own suffering, nor the suffering of those who had it worse.

And also, the fact that others had it worse does not minimize – much less negate – your own suffering.

But what I can say to myself and to everyone who is dealing with bad memories at the moment is this:

We’re still here.

We win.

And that’s worth celebrating.

What we could not do as children, we can do as adults

Do you know why the military, police, and intelligence services aren’t supposed to use torture? It’s not because we’re the good guys (sometimes we are, sometimes we aren’t). It’s because information obtained under torture – under duress – isn’t reliable. Some people can hold out longer than others, but eventually everyone will tell their torturers what they think they want to hear so the torture will stop.

If trained soldiers and committed terrorists can’t hold out indefinitely, what chance does a child have?

I said things I did not believe. I apologized when I had done nothing wrong. I said nothing when I was told a lie was the truth. I kept silent when I wanted to scream. I froze when I wanted to fight back.

What could I have done? I was a child. I may have had the mind of an adult, but I had the body of a child, and the legal status of a child.

I said and did what I had to do to survive. And so did you. Because that’s what survivors do. We chose to retreat from an unwinnable situation so we could live to fight another day.

What we could not do as children, we can do as adults.

When we live good, honest lives according to the beliefs and the values that make sense to us and that speak to our souls, we win.

Breaking the cycle of abuse

The best stories I’m hearing are from those who are breaking the cycle, from people who have said “this ends with me.” They were abused by their parents because their parents were abused by their grandparents and so on going back generations, but they refused to continue the cycle of abuse. Their children are growing up knowing love and support and learning discipline through positive means, not through beatings and intimidation.

I like to think I would have done the same thing, but I have no children – by choice – and it would be grossly unfair for me to take credit for achieving something I never had to attempt. But I can say this:

I got out with my soul intact.

Never stop asking questions – and seeking answers

Of course I believed what I was taught as a small child. That’s what you do when you’re a small child – you don’t have the wisdom or the experience to challenge what people in positions of authority tell you. But when I got a little older, I started realizing it didn’t make sense.

I was told that hierarchy and patriarchy was “God’s way” but I could see that the only legitimate authority was one grounded in facts and reason, in compassion and justice.

I was told I had to believe the Earth was created in six days, 6000 years ago. Science told me it was formed 4.5 billion years ago.

I was told I had to believe humans were created in our current form. Science told me we evolved from other life forms over millions of years.

I was told I had to believe the bible was the literal and inerrant “Word of God.” Literary and historical analysis told me it was the product of many writers over many centuries, much of it was borrowed from earlier sources, and it was never intended to be taken literally.

Most importantly, I was told that a God who was supposedly all-loving, all-powerful, and all-wise had a “plan” that resulted in the vast majority of his creatures – who behave as he designed them – spending eternity in torment.

No one deserves eternal torment – not even James Dobson.

I bit my tongue to keep from starting arguments I knew I would never be allowed to win. But I never stopped asking questions, even if I couldn’t safely ask them out loud. And I never stopped looking for answers. It took me many years to work through all the baggage I was saddled with as a child.

But I did.

So have many of you.

And many more are on this path to freedom and integrity, and to living with confidence and hope instead of with fear.

This is what winning looks like

Winning isn’t rejoicing in the death of James Dobson – though if you’re enjoying it, you have my understanding and my support.

Winning is realizing he’s no longer relevant in your life.

Winning is understanding that no one should have to go through what you went through – physically, emotionally, spiritually – but you did, and you made it out anyway.

Winning is understanding that trauma didn’t make you stronger. You were already strong enough, even if you couldn’t see it at the time (I couldn’t).

Winning is vowing to do better in your own life, and then doing it.

Winning is building a good life, full of joy and full of magic, and living it on your own terms. Not a perfect life – that’s not possible – but a good life.

James Dobson is dead and you are alive. You are learning, and growing, and healing.

You win.