This is part two of the transcript of an interview with JJ, a survivor of domestic violence, and Pastor M, a pastor, mentor, and friend who walked with JJ during her marriage and divorce. 

Tabitha: Let’s recap a bit. JJ and her spouse are in ministry. It then comes to light that their marriage difficulties are more serious than previously thought-–she is actually being abused by her husband. The church tries to rally around them both by providing support for her and accountability for him. What went wrong?

JJ: My understanding was they didn’t really know what to do.   

Pastor M: After the initial support the church offered, things were not getting better. He was continuing to spiral. And because JJ’s support team was committed to the restoration of the marriage, they couldn’t accept how damaging his behavior was. It compromised their personal convictions. Their hope was in the marriage, it wasn’t in God. It wasn’t in what God could do regardless of whether or not the marriage survived.

JJ: Where do we put our hope? Is God big enough to work when everything we’ve known, everything we believe to be biblical, doesn’t work anymore?

I think another thing that went wrong is that my support system took all of his statements at face value. He said he was sorry, so he must be sorry. He said he would change, so he was going to change. Eventually I came to the realization that there was a cycle of good, then bad, good, then bad, good, then bad, and that cycle was escalating. And after twelve years of living it, I knew that cycle wasn’t going to change.

So I decided I didn’t want to live that way anymore, and I didn’t want my children living it and thinking that it was okay. But my support system couldn’t accept that. Even as I walked into divorce mediation, they were texting me to “just give him more time.” “Don’t finalize today.” And meanwhile, he was telling everyone, “There’s something wrong with her, I don’t know why she’s doing this, I love her so much, I can’t understand why she wants to end us, etc.”

By the end, the only person I really felt was in my corner was Pastor M.

One of the things that made it so hard as my support system fell apart, was that my whole world was the church. I didn’t have any friends outside of the church, and I wasn’t close to my family. I knew if I went through with the divorce he would probably lose his job and I would probably lose my whole community. I knew it would affect my kids.

Tabitha: What I am hearing in this part of your story is a high level of exhaustion. You had been trying so hard for so long to save your relationship. And when that became untenable, the people who were supposed to support you added a new level of exhaustion. Pastor M, I imagine this was true for you too. 

Pastor M: Yes, it was exhausting. I remember one week I spent around 30 hours just meeting, emailing, and responding to the people involved–not just JJ or her spouse but all the members of the congregation that he was influencing. The church is a family system, so the violence, abuse, and manipulation that one family is experiencing radiates out towards the rest of the congregation. 

JJ: I am just now realizing how exhausted I was back then. It was like the carpet had been pulled out from under me, and I was lying flat on my back at the bottom of a pit, staring at the ground above, thinking, “I’m supposed to be up there. That’s a hundred feet above me and I’m on the cold, wet, damp, awful pit floor. What do I do now?” 

But I had three kids, a full-time job, a living situation to take care of, legal obligations. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t rest.

Tabitha: In the cycle of abuse, the abuser tends to draw everyone into their orbit. Anyone who gets a glimpse of what’s really happening can get sucked in. It’s disorientating, because the abuser is constantly trying to draw attention away from their pattern of behavior, away from the truth, by making you second guess every conversation or experience. It sounds like your church, while well intentioned, got caught in that destructive orbit. 

Pastor M: Yes, we did. No matter how hard we tried to create a supportive environment that held him accountable, he was just throwing hand grenades in at every step of the way. So the support we offered JJ started to unravel, and there was no way to reign in the chaos. 

Tabitha: And in that unraveling, what happened to JJ? 

JJ: I was asked to leave the church–or at least it felt like that, from my perspective. At the time, the church was my only support system. Even though it was crumbling, it was what I had. And in my worldview, to be a good Christian meant never giving up. Though I came to a place where I was letting my marriage go, I wasn’t yet able to think of leaving the church. I thought I would stay and heal and see them heal, too. 

What I actually needed was to get the heck out of there, but I never would have done that. Now I’d describe it as the last straw from my tower of Babel. It had to be ripped down so I could go build on a firm foundation, which I did. 

I found another church that was an excellent place for me to grow, in ways I couldn’t have done at the previous church. But being asked to leave was devastating, at the time. 

Pastor M: There was so much confusion and triangulation going on. Asking her to leave, for me, was not a punishment, but for her survival and well being. I knew it wasn’t a good place for her anymore, but if she got out she could land on her feet. 

Her ex had been asked to leave a month or two earlier, and I just knew we didn’t have the capacity to care for her the way she needed at the time anymore. Looking back, now, I wouldn’t make the same choice, because in some ways it made her a scapegoat. 

JJ: Finding a new church was the right choice for me, but it still really hurt at the time. We didn’t speak directly much after I left. I needed space to heal. It wasn’t until a few years later that I reached out, letting him know how hurt I had felt by being asked to leave, but also that leaving had been the best thing for me. And he graciously responded and acknowledged my pain. 

Tabitha: What I’m hearing, Pastor M, is your humility in saying, “I failed, because I didn’t have the capacity at the time to give you what you needed.” You are acknowledging your good intent and the impact of your choices, not brushing it aside because JJ managed to build a new life in spite of everything. 

Pastor M: I just didn’t have anything left to give. And neither did the leadership team at the time. That wasn’t JJ’s fault. I mourn that we couldn’t give more. But I’m learning that being human is okay. And I’m proud of her resilience and the amazing person that she is. 

JJ: I think that’s one of the lessons to take from this. At the end of my marriage, I was so needy. My foundation was shaken, I felt like I was drowning and there was nothing to grab on to. No one person, no three people can support that level of need, especially if they don’t have an accurate understanding of how abuse works. They need to understand what gaslighting and manipulation look like. As I move forward, my goal is to help the church create systems that adequately support victims so that they can come out of this well. 

Tabitha: Judith Herman, an expert on domestic violence, wrote, “All the perpetrator asks is that the bystander do nothing.” That’s all they ask. But the victim is crying out for justice, for assistance, for a lifeline. But it’s so much easier to do nothing, especially if you find yourself caught in the abuser’s orbit–their narrative of distorting the truth.That’s why so many people on the sidelines give up or look away. But if we want to stand in the gap for survivors of abuse, we need to understand what is happening. 

JJ: The most dangerous thing bystanders can do in an abusive situation is give the abuser the benefit of the doubt. 

Tabitha: As we wrap up our time together, I have one final question for both of you. Do you have hope for the church? Do you think she can become a safe place for survivors? 

JJ: If people are willing to open their eyes and let the truth set them free… if they are willing to become champions instead of bystanders, the church will change, and will become safe for everyone. It can become a refuge, and a place where people can thrive. Just like in our story, there may be vulnerability and neediness and sometimes, a mess; but there will also be resilience. I have hope. 

Pastor M: “Church” is a big word. I’ve seen a lot of people be more committed to the beast of structures than people. But I believe that Jesus Christ is the one who is building his church and he loves it. She may be a messy bride, but that’s okay. But I would say that my hope for the church is that Jesus will be the one to orchestrate change. When I hear how JJ has found a refuge in her current church, that gives me hope. That’s beautiful. 

JJ: Sometimes ambivalence comes when I think of how little leaders know about abusive relationships and systems. 

Pastor M: Tabitha, are you hopeful? 

Tabitha: I am hopeful for pockets of communities. I am not hopeful for the Christian machine. I think it needs to die. What I mean by the “Christian machine” are the institutions that are more committed to establishing their own power than they are to, as Jesus would say, “the least of these.” 

I think of that verse, “Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it cannot bear fruit.” We have spent a lot of time polishing our idols, building towers of Babel, thinking they are worth saving when Jesus was just interested in people. Especially people who had the least amount of power. 

Do I have hope for our institutions? Not really. But I do have hope in the remnant. The kingdom of heaven is always a remnant.

This is the transcript of an interview with JJ, a survivor of domestic violence, and Pastor M, a pastor, mentor, and friend who walked with JJ during her marriage and divorce. This is the first of a two part series.

JJ: My ex and I were in our early twenties when we got married, and we were involved in ministry. I can say that marriage definitely did not turn out like I expected. I was taught that if you work really hard, you will create a good marriage. But that wasn’t my experience. 

Tabitha: At what point did you realize that the difficulties in your marriage were more than just “regular” struggles? How did the culture of your church/evangelicalism impact your ability to recognize abuse?

JJ: It’s complex, because there was so much emphasis on how the Bible calls us not to be selfish, but to be kind and caring. But the church, in my experience, tends to put most of that burden on women. It felt expected that I would cater to the needs (and whims) of my spouse. “He’s tired. He’s been working all day. He needs sex. He doesn’t have the capacity to help around the house or with the kids.”

Tabitha: Did you have an idea of what a “good woman” or a “good wife” was? Obviously this messaging comes from more than one place–your theology, your family of origin, and the culture at large.

JJ: The subliminal messaging is part of what makes it hard to recognize abuse. It’s an unconscious framework that makes you feel validated the more exhausted you feel, the harder you work, the less you ask for, the more you have sex when you don’t feel like it. To question that framework makes you selfish or ungodly.

Tabitha: Paster M, how do you feel hearing that?

Pastor M: Triggered. Uncomfortable. Those messages are being passed around. So much of what I and my peers were taught, as far as pastoral ministry goes, was behavioral modification. And we didn’t (and don’t) understand the far reaching impact of our words. For example, serving the “needs” of your spouse–or any other person–might be the last thing they need. Saying “No,” might be the most loving act. Giving a spouse sex whenever they demand it might be feeding the beast within them.

Tabitha: JJ, how do you think your marriage appeared to those on the outside vs. what was really happening on the inside?

JJ: I worked so hard to be the “good wife.” That meant always being at the church, volunteering, babysitting everyone’s kids, and protecting his reputation. But on the inside, I was stressed, exhausted, without purpose, and so, so, lonely. Sometimes everything would be too much and I would reach my boiling point and explode, which of course just worked against me and made me look crazy. 

Tabitha: Your (understandable) reaction to abuse would then be used against you.

JJ: Exactly. Then I would think, “I am this terrible, horrible, angry, selfish person.” Pastor M, what were you seeing on the outside?

Pastor M: Obviously this changed overtime as more things came to light, but I saw you as someone who was very devoted to her husband. She adored him, respected him. They seemed fulfilled. I didn’t realize at first that she was unhappy. Later, there were whispers of struggle, but I was reassured by others that it was in the past. I had no idea at first what was going on behind the scenes.

JJ: From the inside, it’s just so hard to recognize abuse because you are taught from the time you are a child, “Forgive 70 times 7, love as you love yourself,” so when abusive behavior happens it’s easy to blame yourself, or to think, “I just have to try harder.”

Paster M: What ends up happening is we create a narrative with a “front stage” and a “back stage,” and behind the curtain is where we keep all the ugliness. We just don’t let anybody see it. Something Donald Miller says that has really stuck with me is, “Everyone has a story, it’s just not the one they are telling.” And I can see how that played out with JJ and her ex, and many other couples I’ve worked with throughout my ministry.

JJ: Behind our curtain was this unsolvable mess, and I didn’t even realize it. What I needed was a demolition crew, but I was just trying to push it all around with a broom, telling myself, “Okay, I just have to love more. I just have to forgive more.” 

Tabitha: And those messages, such as, “We’re all sinners, everybody struggles, nobody’s perfect;” those messages get twisted when you are a survivor. You ignore warning signs because you think it must be normal.

JJ: Yes, and that’s why my favorite verse is “The truth will set you free.” Because it does, even though it’s extremely difficult. Sometimes telling the truth, for a survivor of abuse, makes it worse before it makes it better.

Pastor M: Yes, and that is so scary. If you think it’s hard to deal with the pain quietly, what happens when it’s out in the open? But we really do need a demolition before we can rebuild.

Tabitha: That brings us back to a pivotal point in this story. Pastor M, when did you begin to realize that the issues JJ and her spouse had were more than regular “marriage stuff.” What made you realize that this was actually an abusive situation?

Pastor M: It was a slow realization as I got to know them more. I realized that her spouse needed a lot of support to confront his own issues, and we offered a lot of mentoring opportunities. But he was very good at manipulating people, making himself into a victim, and blaming others. However, it wasn’t until I sat JJ down in my office and asked her to tell me the real story that I realized how bad it actually was. She “pulled back the curtain,” like we said earlier, and that was when I took action and tried to set up the support that she needed.

Letting me see what was going on was such a brave thing for JJ to do. It took so much courage. And I want to mention that while it can be helpful and essential to let people know what is really happening, not everyone is safe to do that with. Just because someone is a pastor (and I say this as a former pastor), doesn’t mean that they will be safe. There were a lot of well intentioned people in JJ’s life and it was still really messy.

Tabitha: JJ, is it fair to say that things got harder after you spoke up?

JJ: Absolutely. When I kept silent, I could still plaster over the cracks in our relationship most of the time. But once I cracked it open, everyone could see our mess and comment on it. 

To this day, I can’t even remember what I told Pastor M in his office. I didn’t have the vocabulary to call it abuse, I thought it was just “marital difficulties.” 

Pastor M: When she was talking, I could sense that there was abuse, even though I didn’t really know how to define it. 

Tabitha: Right. Nowadays, most people in our society hopefully understand that physically assaulting someone is unacceptable. It’s a lot easier to label that as abuse or violence. But what many don’t realize is that emotional, spiritual, verbal, and psychological abuse often precede physical abuse, and can be just as destructive and controlling.

JJ: It’s hard to recognize that you are experiencing it, let alone for others on the outside to understand how that type of abuse can devastate someone.

Tabitha: Often when domestic violence and the church are discussed, you hear two different experiences. Either the church was life saving and supportive–which is great; or, the church compounded the abuse by not believing victims, blaming them, or telling them to remain in unsafe relationships. Something that’s impactful to me about your story is that it’s really in the messy middle. There were people who knew that something wasn’t right and wanted to help, but JJ still got hurt. What went wrong?

JJ: In the beginning, my goal was to try and save his reputation. I wanted him to have as much dignity and respect as possible, because he was in ministry. I had a small group of people who tried to support me. They tried to be everything I needed, and I am and was grateful for their efforts. I didn’t have a family to support me, and I didn’t really have friends or community outside the church. I needed people that I could call and cry with. But within that support group, their goal was to save the marriage.

What I wish they understood is that, in an abusive relationship, if preserving a marriage is the highest priority, then the entity of marriage becomes a god and the oppressor is constantly given the benefit of the doubt.

It creates a permissive attitude towards the abuser, and undermines any support offered to the victim.

Pastor M: Something that I used to say (but definitely wouldn’t now) is, “I’m not on either person’s side, I’m on the side of the marriage.”  But now I know, some marriages should not be preserved. Some are dangerous. When there is violence, manipulation, or abuse, I can’t tell someone that their marriage is worth more than their life.

But in JJ’s situation, I don’t think the people in her support team believed that. The church doesn’t like failure. We say we believe in the redemptive power of God, we say we believe in hope, but what happens when redemption and hope don’t look like what we thought they would? 

JJ: Sometimes the church’s best efforts are actually the tower of Babel. We want something glorious and grand when it actually never should have been built.

Pastor M: When we make an idol out of marriage, something that is holy and intended for good becomes a beast that can destroy us.

Tabitha. Yes. Something you said earlier, JJ, reminded me of a quote by C.S. Lewis: “Anything that becomes a god becomes a demon.” I think the church has turned the sacrament of marriage into a god. We’ve made it a qualifier for ministry and have therefore neglected the much higher goal of human flourishing. When we talk about there always being hope, what does that mean? Does hope die when people divorce? Or does hope transcend the dissolution of a violent relationship and rise up when survivors rebuild their lives?

JJ: One of my favorite songs is by Nicole Nordmann, it’s called The Unmaking. It’s about how there can be total destruction in our lives–and sometimes there needs to be–but God can still work. I went through this terrible situation, I divorced the man who was hurting me, but now I’ve found a calling that I’m truly passionate about.

Tabitha: Today I’m here with my friend, Kristie Williams. She is a professor at Walden university and an affiliate at Northwest Family life. Kristie runs Candid Conversations, book club discussions around diversity, equity and inclusion. What else do you want people to know about you?

Kristie: I’m an educator and a lifelong learner. I am a licensed professional counselor, but I teach clinical mental health counseling and multicultural counseling at Walden University. I’ve been the assistant Dean and the director of diversity, equity and inclusion. I’ve also served as a director of accessibility. So, when I think of this topic, I’m looking at it from a number of different ways.

Tabitha: You’ve shared in the past about the connections and overlap you’ve seen between racism and domestic violence. Can you say more about that?

Kristie: My connection to Northwest family life started over 20 years ago. I’m a graduate of what is now the Seattle School of Theology and Psychology. During my time there, the domestic violence certification program started. I was a child witness of domestic violence, so I felt like I needed to be a part of that. I started learning about power and control, and how perpetrators attempt to hold their victims down. I realized, “Oh my gosh, this is the same thing that happens regarding racism!”
When you’re talking about racism, sometimes people just shut down because they think, “I’m going to say the wrong thing,” or “I’m going to offend somebody.” And so, I’ve started facilitating trainings, workshops, and discussions around dating violence, domestic violence, and racism. During these training sessions, I use the Power and Control Wheel to show participants how abusers can manipulate and control others.

Tabitha: There are now many versions of the power and control wheel, with some that illustrate the overlap of gender/race/citizenship privilege. For example, a survivor of domestic violence who is from another country might face even more stigma or have their immigration status held against them.

Kristie: Yes. These “wheels” really illustrate what’s going on in a way that people, especially the students I work with, can understand without making them feel like they are going to say the wrong thing. It helps them to be able to ask questions and learn. I try to teach in a way that people who are new to these topics don’t feel like they are being shamed for what they didn’t know, or didn’t see, or didn’t understand.

Tabitha: It must sometimes be difficult for you sometimes to walk into a space, knowing that people are already afraid they’re going to mess up before you've even presented anything. How does that work with Candid Conversations?

Kristie: Everyone’s already afraid, even if they really want to do the right thing. I have to help them recognize what some people may be coming in with, because when you’re entering these spaces, you’re not coming in alone. You’re bringing all the generational stuff that’s behind you. Someone may say something triggering. It might be the first time they have had the opportunity to discuss these issues. We’re providing a safe space, a brave space, I’d even say a sacred space, for people to hear, “This didn’t start with you.” Something I say so frequently my students roll their eyes is this: The best way to change hearts and minds is in relationships and over time. That’s what’s so good about doing these book discussions. People come together for weeks and get to know each other. It’s not like you have these hard conversations about racism and never see that person again. Just like with support groups, there’s something special about being with people over time that actually impacts and affects change.

Tabitha: Yes. In some of the groups I’ve participated in with you, we’ve had people from really, really different places, levels of understanding, and educational backgrounds. But we meet with the goal of connecting. Even if we don't necessarily end at the same spot, there’s this strong desire to understand the other that I think is really sacred.

Kristie: Absolutely. In some cases, people are coming from different states or even countries. It’s possible they’ve never met somebody that looks or thinks like somebody else on that screen. It knocks down biases they didn’t know they had. It creates a space where people can realize they have mindsets they need to dismantle. Or they meet people or read something in the book where they think, “Me too!” Things I often hear are, “Oh, I had never thought of it that way,” or, “I hadn’t realized that people are actually still experiencing this kind of discrimination and bias.” If you’re a white person who lives in a predominantly white city like Seattle, it can be really easy to think, “That’s only happening over there in that place where they’re kind of backward.” Nope, it’s actually still happening today here.

Tabitha: And when you are face-to-face with someone else who is experiencing it, it suddenly becomes a lot more personal.

Kristie: Yes, absolutely.

Tabitha: Can you tell us a bit more about what books you covered in Candid Conversations? Which book is your favorite?

Kristie: Ooh, that’s going to be a hard question. We started out at the beginning of the pandemic. People were struggling, feeling isolated, and had more time on their hands. Simultaneously, we had George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, all of these things were happening at the same time. I started book clubs to help my students stay connected, and initially the first Candid Conversations book club was just to help therapists connect during the pandemic. Our first book was Trevor Noah’s Born a Crime. What I didn’t realize at first is that his story doesn’t just have racism, but also domestic violence. We also read My Grandmother’s Hands by Resmaa Menakem, Caste by Isabel Wilkerson, and It Didn’t Start With You by Mark Wolynn. Each of the books really contributed to the ongoing conversation of how we got to where we are in this country. We’ve talked a lot about inherited trauma. Right now we’re reading The Choice by Edith Eger. It feels really applicable to what’s happening in Ukraine right now. It’s the story of a Holocaust survivor and talks about how we have a choice in how we respond to evil. We don’t have to let evil control us. It’s like everything we’ve read so far culminates in this particular book.

Tabitha: It’s interesting how with all the book studies you’ve done, there’s this spirit led aspect to it because they all fold into one another. With Trevor Noah’s book, you touched on really serious topics but in an accessible way, because he’s so funny. It’s like a side door into tough subjects–one minute you are laughing and the next you are crying. My Grandmother’s Hands was such a good backdrop that helped explain where our culture is at right now. Many people don’t realize that slavery didn’t just come out of nowhere, and neither did the genocide of indigenous peoples. And it’s not an excuse, but it gives us a framework to show us how far we have to go to dismantle oppressive systems–and how much we have to repent of.

Kristie: Absolutely. We’ve all heard the phrase, “Hurt people hurt people.” But as we read our current book, The Choice, we get to hear all these stories of people who have experienced violence and trauma and choose not to pass that on. We have a choice in how we respond.

Tabitha: It’s a powerful truth. In some of the support groups I lead, that’s been a question we’ve been asking. There are women in really difficult circumstances. Sometimes they have to co-parent with their abuser, sometimes they lose their community because their story isn’t believed. But even in these situations they are learning to ask, “Where do I have agency here? I may be forced to encounter someone who’s hurt me, but how do I choose to enter that space? How can I keep myself calm? How can I be a shelter for my children in spite of what we are going through?” I find that question, “Where do I have agency right now?” to be really powerful in my own life.

Kristie: It’s empowering for people to realize that they have the choice to speak up, or to not respond (which is sometimes a valid choice.)

Tabitha: Shifting topics a bit, I’d like to go back to talking about the intersection of domestic violence and racism. What do you think are some of the additional struggles faced by survivors who are also women of color?

Kristie: That’s a great question. Oftentimes, there aren’t any people of color at the organizations who are supposed to help them. Maybe they are in an abusive situation, so they reach out to their church. The church recommends a domestic violence shelter but when they show up, there isn’t a single person who looks like them. Not only are they dealing with the trauma of their particular situation, but they might wonder if there is bias against them from the people who are supposed to help. Or, if their abuser is a person of color, they might worry about perpetuating stereotypes. I am speaking as an African American woman who was a child witness of domestic violence. If I am telling my story to a white person, I am wondering if they can recognize that I still love my father. He was the father God gave me, even though I can see that there were things he did that were horrific. I’m not excusing that–but that wasn’t all he was. So, if someone comes to a DV support group, and their abuser is a person of color, they might not feel safe to share that. They might wonder if others in the group will use their story as a reason to distrust other men of color. They might project your story onto every Black, Latino, Asian, etc. man they meet, and that’s a risk when you share. I think more therapists and facilitators need training on this. It’s also important to note that this is an issue in batterer’s treatment as well. How do men of color who have been abusive trust that their group leaders or counselors think they can actually change? We have to ask ourselves if the people coming to us for help can relate to the helpers. Because they are going to be asking, “Is
this a safe place for me to bring my whole self?”

Tabitha: So, as a white facilitator, what’s the first thing I can do to make women of color feel safer in my group?

Kristie: Start with directly acknowledging that we are all different, and that everyone is bringing different things into the group. Being a survivor can be isolating enough, we don’t want people to feel alone and unacknowledged because of their ethnicity too.

Tabitha: How would you define the term “intersectionality” for someone who’s never heard it before?

Kristie: Intersectionality is the point at which different parts of our identity meet, specifically marginalized identities. I am African American, but I’m also a woman. A survivor might be an immigrant and also be part of the LGBTQ+ community. These identities are connecting and overlapping and we can’t pull them apart. For example, at a college I used to work at, there was a group for LGBTQ+ students, but the students of color within the group felt like there was something missing. They went on to start an additional group that addressed the areas they felt weren’t being heard or seen in the other. These two groups worked together, but the second group was essential to meet those needs that weren’t being met. Intersectionality creates awareness of all of the different components people bring to the table, whether that’s gender, sexuality, ethnicity, or religion.

Tabitha: This is really important for white people to understand. It’s easy for most of us to walk through the world, at least in the West, because everything is catered to us. We tend to think that our way of viewing the world is the baseline for “normal.” We have to learn to walk with the awareness that what might feel “normal” or “average” to us is not necessarily the case for everyone else.
I am trying to have the awareness that I’m going to make mistakes. I’m going to miss things, or make
assumptions that aren’t helpful. And there will be times when I’m called out for that, but it doesn’t have to be a source of shame, it’s an opportunity to learn and grow.

Kristie: A great resource on intersectionality is Dr. Kimberly Crenshaw. I use some of her materials in my courses.

Tabitha: Futures Without Violence is another great resource. They have a phrase in one of their videos on intersectionality that I like: “We can’t end one form of violence without ending all forms of violence.”

Kristie: Sometimes when people are suffering, it can be hard for them to connect or relate to a different form of oppression. But we can’t act like these other forms of violence don’t exist just because they aren’t happening to us. I think we all have purpose. It’s true that we can’t do everything, but that’s why we need to connect with others so we can be, at the very least, a resource. I’m a lifelong learner, and I often point people to the work of someone else more knowledgeable. But we can’t just cover our eyes and pretend like violence against other communities doesn’t exist.

Tabitha: What’s the phrase? “A rising tide lifts all boats?” To me, this means that we’re all connected, and none of us are really free until all of us are free, to paraphrase Fanny Lou Hamer. So I want to see full equality and flourishing for women, and that means I want to see full equality and flourishing for people of all races. As we wrap up, can you tell us what you are reading right now?

Kristie: Well, like I said, I can’t recommend the book The Choice enough. I also just ordered How to Do the Work, which I’ve heard is good. And Dr. Caprice Hollins has been a big influence on me.

Tabitha: Thank you so much for your time and your wisdom, Kristie! You are a gift to Northwest Family Life and to everyone you come into contact with.