Silence, Shame

That's the response I got when I attempted, as a child, to bring light to a situation. "You don't mean that." The four-word education burned like a brand: the information was shameful, and I was shameful for bringing it up. I've often wondered if my relative recalls the terse conversation. Yet, even as an adult, I haven't asked. I've talked about it to others, but with my family, I still remain silent. Thanks for making me think about it. Perhaps it's time to reexamine the lessons.

What a beautiful tribute to those who suffer in silence.  May we offer a voice and prayer for God's healing and remember that He sees and will avenge!  We wait...watching for that day of victory.  Thank you for opening your heart.

They stood by, hands folded, mouths shut. This makes me think of Jacob after Dinah’s rape. David, after Tamar’s. The resulting rage of Simeon and Levi. The plot of Absalom. The agonizing desolation of Dinah and Tamar. Silence simmering to a raging, contorted boil.

Wow. That's all I have to say. Wow.

praise God for your words, they are truly healing and encourages me to speak to the unspoken, cry about the pain in my family, beseech my Father's throne on behalf of my family, so thank you, thank you. I love this piece and encourage you to continue to share and write, see you at the spoken word event at DTS :)

Sharifa. . . your words are heartbreakingly beautiful. As in, "beauty from ashes."

One of my mentors taught that "whatever is never talked about in your family is considered shameful." Which is why shame and silence go together, and always will. 

And which is why the Logos, the Word made flesh, breaks the power of shameful silence with His loving words of grace and acceptance: "I see it, and I'm so sorry. Come here, let Me enfold you in My arms, and feel My love."

I'm trying to find the words...absolutely beautiful, heartwrenching, powerful. Thanks.

We never spoke about certain things in my family. Secrets floated like helium-filled elephants. Shame mingled with pride at weddings and especially funerals, confounding the young folks, choking the older ones.

I remember writing this poem shortly after the death of my grandmother. Even her real name was a secret never told until she was gone. She had a child (an aunt I have yet to meet) with a man who was not my grandfather. He forced himself on her. The shame of this silenced my grandmother, distanced the child (now in her 70s), and gave the other children an inheritance of silence. Incredibly, my maternal grandmother was also violated, and became a mother at 16. She was put to shame because she was pregnant and unmarried. The man who violated her was never even questioned. Silence surrounded the trauma.

In both cases, my grandmothers were abandoned by their own fathers. Their fathers never protected them. Never defended them. They stood by, hands folded, mouths shut. This makes me think of Jacob after Dinah’s rape. David, after Tamar’s. The resulting rage of Simeon and Levi. The plot of Absalom. The agonizing desolation of Dinah and Tamar. Silence simmering to a raging, contorted boil.

I share this poem about my family as I would a scar, because a scar brought to the light is proof of both the deep wound and the healing power of God. Even when family is silent, He hears. He acknowledges. He touches wounds. He heals. He vindicates.

Humanity has hidden our hurts and shame from the Lord since Eden (Gen. 3:7-8). My prayer is that if you or your loved one are living in shame, you would find solace in other believers, freedom in prayer (as found in James 5:15-20), and refuge in the One who is faithful and just to forgive us our sins (and our family's) and cleanse us (1 John 1:9). If you are burdened with condemnation and shame, I pray you find freedom even now.