The Crossfire and My Newfound Luxury

Personal reflections one week after my private exodus became a New York Times story.

It has been one week since The New York Times published a lengthy profile piece on me; more specifically on my journey into and out of the extreme gender roles lifestyle and online niche.

It touches on several cultural issues in a relatively new way, and I think that’s why it sparked a variety of passionate responses across the spectrum.

Some self-described feminists said no apologies, no atonement– burn her at the stake.

Others said you are brave. I’ve never had to leave that circle but please help others get out.

Some self-described trads said this is betrayal. She’s a rabid blue-haired feminist now– burn her at the stake.

Others said you are brave. This message is needed because some men do pervert their role and abuse their wives. Please help others get out.

It has been an interesting experience.

I have cried.

For two very different reasons…

I’ve cried because I felt seen and understood by strangers. By women who had escaped similar traps. By people who wished their own mothers had been able to do the same. By women who are still in the thick of it.

Somehow, my once personal and private exodus was now helping others find hope for their own.

And I’ve cried because I felt condemned and hated by strangers. As though I were a monster for some of my past posts, deserving of mockery and, at times, even punishment reminiscent of the treatment I escaped.

I hold on to both ends of this spectrum because they reveal something about where we are in these conversations today.

Anger and empathy.
Ignorance and wisdom.

All of it bursting from the little rectangle in my hand.

I cannot control any of it.
But I can learn from it.

And after all of that (and whatever else comes after), know that I’m not particularly interested in defending myself or collecting praise.

I’m interested in sharing what keeps women trapped in spiritually manipulative and controlling marriages. I’m interested in sharing how we can help those women find their way out.

We cannot help women escape environments we refuse to understand.

We have to examine the beliefs that teach women to distrust their own judgment.

The misuse of religious language that turns submission into an obligation to endure mistreatment.

The communities that reward women for staying and shame them for leaving.

We have to understand how a woman can sincerely believe she is doing the right thing while participating in her own captivity.

I know because I was that woman.

Imagine if we did more to peel back some of the beliefs, structures, teachings and psychological mechanisms that can make abuse difficult to recognize, let alone escape...

Some commentators will continue to hurl vitriol at me through their screens. That is the nature of the digital space. Their words may hurt. Some already have.

But I’ve survived much worse in real life. In actual flesh and blood. And by the grace of God, I will keep going.

To those who have reached out through direct messages, comments and emails with supportive words, thank you. You took time out of your lives to encourage me… your words have given me strength and courage.

Your empathy is heartwarming and it gives me hope for the women who will need that same compassion in the future.

I don’t expect everyone to trust me at face value, that would be foolish indeed.

But understand that this is the first time in my adult life that I have had FULL ownership of my own thoughts, my own conclusions, my own beliefs, words and actions.

This is a privilege for me.

A gift.

A newfound luxury.

And as a public-facing woman,

I have zero intention to waste it.

Sincerely,
Bernadine Bluntly