Today I wear red in support of Do Right BJU, a silent, peaceful demonstration of support for victims and a call for awareness about abuse and how to respond correctly in these situations.
#dorightbju
I wear red for you. You found yourself in a hospital bed when a University administrator secretly showed up to apologize for not believing your abuse. Their gift of a Bible did little to heal your pain. I wear red for you because everyone failed you. No one called the authorities.
I wear red for you. Instead of reporting the abuse to the authorities, they made you confront him. And when you broke down in front of that person and said it was all lies because you were afraid for your life, they sent you home. With your abuser. And years later, as we cried on the phone together, my heart ached for everything you’ve endured. No one called the authorities.
I wear red for you. Even though you repeatedly begged for help from the Dean, he consistently told you the abuse showed a lack of spiritual purity on your part and the way you dressed. And even though your abuser was finally asked politely to leave the school (because four other people stepped forward with stories), the Dean nor the school ever apologized to you. And no one called the authorities.
I wear red for you. You asked for help from the Executive VP of the University. You shared your story of abuse and was told the abuser would be banned from campus and prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law. And yet thirty years later, you discover that he was never charged for rape, he’s working for a large church in another state, and holds a seat as an administrator of a Bible Institute that BJU endorses. No one called the authorities.
I wear red because a prominent BJU professor told me there was no one at the school who could help me when I shared my abuse story.
I wear red for all of those who have been abused and who have never been given proper help.
One evening in 2000, I remember standing in the doorway of my best-friend’s living room. The TV was on, and the then-President of my University was about to announce on Larry King Live that yes, there had been a prohibition against interracial dating since the 50’s. There was an electricity in the air and fear in our eyes. None of us knew what to expect. Was the University about to admit that they had been wrong for years? HORRIBLY wrong?
Before the interview, I received a phone call and was told to immediately come home. I explained that I wanted to stay and see what happened. But I was informed that under no circumstances was I allowed to watch the interview and that I needed to get in my car and leave right away.
I cried on the thirty-minute drive home. It couldn’t be as silly as “we don’t have a TV and so you shouldn’t watch TV elsewhere either.” Instead it felt like fear. Fear because it didn’t make sense that the authority we had clung too for so long would willingly admit that they were wrong, much less BE wrong.
And today, when a small band of peaceful protestors gathered at the school to stand up for the victims of abuse, I wished that I could join you. But I’m too far away. So while you released red balloons on campus, I stood in the shower and wept.
I cried when I saw someone’s FB status that they would be wearing green and standing on campus with a BB gun.
I cried when I saw a photojournalist make fun of the protest and say publicly “because of your personal vendettas, illogical thoughts and distorted views, I am forced to cover your silent protest. But I’m not going to paint you in the best light. I will write the story to show you for what you really are. Not exactly the coverage you hoped for? Tough luck. Love your local news photojournalist.”
I cried when I heard that a faculty member laughed at the protestors, saying they had to let the balloons go because no one wanted one.
I cried when I heard a student asked for a balloon from the protestor and then pulled out a pocketknife and popped it.
I cried most of all for the students and faculty who kept silent out of fear.
Eleven years ago, I was the girl driving home and feeling like something wasn’t quite right. I knew that fear was controlling us but I accepted that others must know more than I did. But here, on the other side, I wear red and publicly say that fear will never stop me from Doing Right again.
There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest. – Elie Wiesel
