A few weeks ago I posted about complicity and cover-up and in retrospect, my thoughts were a bit oversimplistic. There is understandable rage and grief about the silence that often surrounds abuse, such as the recent New York Times investigation and disclosure about Cesar Chavez abusing and sexually assaulting Dolores Huerta as well as young women and girls.
Abuse of power is inflicted by people regardless of their political affiliation or beliefs. Beloved charismatic progressive leaders like Cesar Chavez, Rev. Jim Jones, and countless others have committed atrocious acts of tremendous harm. Those who have been harmed may remain silent for a variety of reasons, including fear of being blamed and shamed, or losing their livelihood, fear of political backlash (as is the case with the farmworkers rights movement) and more. There is a particular feeling of betrayal and grief upon hearing that a trusted leader has engaged in such horrific behavior.
There is no one paradigm or analysis that can fix this brokenness. Adrienne Rich wrote of this complexity in her powerful book, On Lies, Secrets and Silences:
When we discover that someone we trusted can be trusted no longer, it forces us to reexamine the universe, to question the whole instinct and concept of trust. For a while, we are thrust back onto some bleak, jutting ledge, in a dark pierced by sheets of fire, swept by sheets of rain, in a world before kinship, or naming, or tenderness exist; we are brought close to formlessness.
Dolores Huerta said this week that she remained silent for these many decades about having been sexually assaulted by Cesar Chavez because she was fearful of how this disclosure might adversely impact the struggle for farm workers’ rights. Trust is an action verb, not a fixed state, and there are many different levels of trust – physical, emotional, spiritual, financial, and more.
Parker J. Palmer has written about turning disillusionment into a blessing for transformation:
I believe that most Americans want to take on the real problems bedeviling this country. Doing so demands that we dismantle the culture of illusions that blinds us to reality. Culture change is neither quick nor easy — it will take a long time to find our way through the smoke and mirrors. But all long journeys begin with one small step, so here’s a modest proposal: let’s reclaim “disillusionment” as a word that names a blessing rather than a curse.
When a friend says, “I’m so disillusioned!” about this or that, why do we say, “I’m so sorry! How can I help?” We ought to say, “Congratulations! You’ve just lost an illusion! That means you’ve moved that much closer to reality, the only place where it’s safe to stand!”
- How have you reckoned with disillusionment and broken trust in your own life?
- What has it been like to build a new sense of security and trustworthiness?
- What healing is still needed?