Megan and Grace Phelps-Roper: I Understand the Anger

As an ex-fundamentalist Christian, let me see if I can aptly explain the phenomenon of children that are born into the movement and then get out - especially how they are deserved to be viewed once out.

As many of my readers already know, Megan and Grace Phelps-Roper, granddaughters of the evil patriarch of the communal clan, Fred Phelps, left the Westboro Baptist Church cult in November of 2012.  On the 7th of February, 2013, Megan posted a quick article on her blog that revealed this news.  This was accompanied by articles all over the internet, with reporters who had interviewed Megan (Grace, as far as I am aware, has never publicly spoken to anyone).

That same day, I began a Facebook group called Megan and Grace Phelps Roper Supporters to show these young women public support for their decision to leave the cult, as well as supporting them in the future endeavors away from hateful rhetoric and actions.

For the most part, those who joined the group were very happy with the news and said as much.  But, here and there, it became quite obvious that others were understandably angry and wanted nothing to do with these two women.  As far as they cared, they would rather Megan and Grace went back to Westboro Baptist Church and stuck their heads back under the rock from whence they came.

I must say, while I completely understand this reaction, I believe it stems from not understanding how a child can be brainwashed into a system and then, in their later years, leave that system ready to be someone better.

I spoke of this in my blog article about the three (actually four) easy steps to spiritually abuse your child.  These four steps are what happened to me.  I went through this.  You can see the spiritual abuse in action in the video I embedded in this blog post.  In that video, you can see several things, while the reporter is asking the girls questions.  First, the adult is hanging back around the corner, ready to pounce if a girl said one thing off message.  Also, you can see the bright smiles and giggly laughter, accompanied by the nonchalant hatred and dead eyes of the girls when they speak of their message.  But pay attention to the way the girls feel when they speak of the little Muslim boy.  They work hard to say that he is going to hell.  But you can tell it hurts them to say it, even if they are not aware of the inner conflict.

These young women in the video were well on their way to becoming who their parents and immediate relatives were.  They were taught well and were regurgitating the hatred with abandon and conviction.  And yet I saw a glimmer of me in their eyes.  A little sliver of hope that they had been introduced to other ways of thinking and they were fighting a battle inside.  

I was right and I knew it.  Eight months later, I would be proven correct.

But what does that mean for Megan and Grace?  Do they deserve the anger towards them for what they did to everyone not like them, on the picket line or on social media where Megan was very prolific?  They said millions of hateful words, laughed in the faces of those that were weeping, spewed forth hateful curses on anyone and everyone who lent a listening ear or just happened to be a victim.  Not only did they do these things, but they believed what they were taught.  They had internalized it, ingested it, and then - lived it.

Now, they have a mess to clean up.  A mess that can easily be cleaned up by a deep apology and a life that will be lived - changed for good.  Megan already explained that in her blog post, quoting Batman, where she says:

There's no fresh start in today's world. Any twelve-year-old with a cell phone could find out what you did. Everything we do is collated and quantified. Everything sticks.

Exactly.  These women and their hateful words, will be forever found all over the internet.  They will never be able to get away from them.  No matter how often and forcefully they apologize, anyone and everyone can point to their past and say, "but..."

I will choose to look at my past life, where I was brainwashed as a child, to despise all homosexuals, Democrats, Muslims, Jews (unless they were Messianic Jews), and, well...anyone who didn't believe the exact creeds that I was told (and even believed) were true.  I hurt plenty of people, have since apologized both privately and publicly, and have moved on with a more love-filled and logical life.  Yet, even with this knowledge of myself, there will be many who do not accept my words or actions.  Everything I used to be is still who I am, according to them.

I am okay with that.  I know who I am and refuse to apologize for me, today.  I will not be held blameless for what I did in my past and yet I refuse to be guilty for it.  I did what I was taught.  I am a new person.

And so are Megan and Grace Phelps-Roper.  Time will tell the rest of their story.

The Story of Liz Franklin, Installment 6 - Suicide or College...or...Murder?

We witnessed some of the most disgusting spiritualized sexual abuse in Installment 5 by Liz's own pastor, his wife, and an elder, no less.  It was horrid to read. Something that no child - at any age - should go through.  But that was not the end of Liz's story.  Not by a long shot.  She would continue trying to become the unattainable perfect being that she thought this church's god wanted her to be.

*****

Why by now my being hadn't just said enough! and imploded, I don't know.  I wanted to die, but that was another sin.  By my senior year, I was in full-on rebellion.  Or reacting normally to the circumstances in which I was raised, to put it another way.  I was going to hell.  I firmly believed this.  So I just didn't see the need to try any more.  I was still miserable, but at least now, I wasn't heaping abuse on my own self.

My twin brother and I were the graduating class of 1987.  I was the valedictorian, and as such, was awarded a scholarship to the church Bible college. Allegheny Wesleyan College in Salem, OH.  I guess I decided to give myself another shot.  Surely, being surrounded by holy people 24/7 would produce results.  Maybe when I got out of dad's house, I could do it. Away from the abuse. Away from mom, whom I didn't like very much any way. Besides the fact that I didn't like her, she'd been diagnosed 10 years prior with cancer.  Her fainting became the norm.  I couldn't sleep at night, waiting for the bang! that meant she had fainted again.  Then feeling the guilt for not praying with/for her.  So, I decided to go to AWC, and even got excited at the prospect.

That fall, I began my journey away from the insanity that had been my life up til this point.  I didn't know it yet, and indeed it would get a bit more insane before it got better. My first year was probably the worst.  I don't have a lot of specific recollections.  I barely recall myself during that year.  I do know that I did not acquire holiness through osmosis.  I still went to the altar every time there was an opportunity.  It still did not work.  I had other things on my heart, too.  It seemed that no one liked me.  I didn't have one good friend to talk to at all.  Oh, they were my friends when they needed things. I had a car, so people could be very friendly if they needed to go to town.

One thing about me is my sense of humor.  I have a wicked one.  I love to laugh, love seeing people laugh; there's just too little laughter in the world.  Somehow, my sense of humor lived through the stuff I barely survived, and it breaks my heart, but I turned the humor against myself.  People started counting on me for laughs, and did I deliver.  So many people told me of how I had made them laugh when that was just what they needed.  I cheered people up, and I got good at it. I was dying inside, but hiding it behind the humor.  I also gave good back rubs, so at one time or another, the entire girl's dorm had beat a path to my door.

When I needed to be cheered up, no one was there to make me laugh.  When my back ached, no one was there to rub it.  The things that I had been taught about myself were true: I was unlovable.  Spiritually, I'd given up.  I still desperately wanted to be good enough for god, but I had resigned myself to reality.  It just wasn't gonna happen.  Daily, I gave of myself to my fellow students, and nothing happened to fill myself back up.  I became depressed; that seems like too tame a word for what I was feeling.  A living death, that's what I was living.  I began thinking of suicide.  I just didn't have what it took to live through one more day.  These thoughts scared me back to the altar, because suicide was an unforgivable sin; the express train to hell.  I didn't talk to anyone about this.  Just told them I was having spiritual problems, and since I'd obviously been having them all semester, they weren't alarmed in the least. 

Finally, one night I delivered the comedic performance of a life time. This was on a Sunday after evening church service.  The dining hall was in the basement of the girl's dorm. People had gathered there for a late supper. I had them rolling.  And I was funny!  I was ON!!  And with every joke, with every burst of laughter, I died a little more inside.  Finally, everyone left, the lights were turned off, and we girls headed upstairs.  On the way, I grabbed a knife.

*****

Aaaand...you'll have to wait for Installment 7 to see what Liz does.

Pending Series: The Story of Elizabeth (Liz) Franklin

Out of the blue, a wonderfully dynamic woman contacted me.  She relayed a short version of her "life story" in the Allegheny Wesleyan Connection.  She told of how she endured physical, sexual, and spiritual abuse and came out on the other side.  The short version was simply spellbinding and I requested that she share the long version with me.

While growing up, she fostered some excellent personal qualities and later, when she was dramatically pulled out of the spiritual mess, used them to catapult her into a new joyful life.  I feel I hold a sort of kinship with her, being that one of the ways I would cope in my growing up years, was through the use of humor - lots of it.

I will be posting her riveting story in parts and we will see a dark side to accepting a fundamentalist view of Christianity and even learn a thing or two of how to cope.

One truism to watch for is the one or two people in Liz's life that were "there" for her and carried her on in her journey, allowing her to keep pressing on and not ending it all.  I send out a note of gratitude to you who did that.  You, my readers, and I will be better for it  - I guarantee it.  And I dare say, Liz is grateful too.

I hope you enjoy the series.