The Quiverfull Movement: Religious Trauma is Too Often Overlooked
Nothing can obliterate your self-worth like the judgment of ‘God’
If you live in the Western Hemisphere, it’s virtually impossible to go through daily life without running into some reminder of Christianity.
It might be a holiday, it might be a little sign hanging on the door of a shop or in a relative’s home. It might be a gentle, “God bless you,” from someone you meet on the street.
It could be a comment made by a teacher or a local politician, it might be the fact that you just passed a third church within a five-minute drive from your home.
It might literally be in your country’s national anthem.
The Christian God is everywhere, and it is expected that you both know and respect him—whether you are a practicing Christian or not.
Christianity is the dominant religion in our corner of the world, with over 40,000 denominations worldwide. The religion boasts well over 2 billion followers, and the doctrine of, “The one true God” often leaves non-believers in a bit of a corner.
If you’re a filthy pagan like myself, things get even more awkward. Especially if—like me—you converted away from Christianity.
Most of my family has no idea that I left the church.
My immediate relatives do, and I make no secret of the fact to anyone who asks. My tattoos are all inspired by pagan symbolism, and I wear them quite openly.
Anyone who asks gets the honest answer; I’m a practicing Heathen, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.
But I also haven’t gone out of my way to drop that brick into the tranquil pond that is my extended family’s group chat. I once went to Mass with my late grandfather during a family visit just to keep that peace going.
I didn’t make a fuss, but I held out my hand for the communion wafer instead of accepting it directly, and the priest only chuckled and waved me back to my seat. Nice guy.
In my daily life, I make no such attempt to disguise it. I have my little shrine in my room at home, and all of my housemates are fully aware. I’ve even asked a respected goði to help write the ceremony for my wedding, with the blessing of my future husband.
Before anyone gets concerned, let me be clear: Heathens are not white supremacists. There are small groups that are, which we refer to as ‘Folkish’, and we despise them. They are hate groups, and do not reflect the religion as a whole. The Folkish are white nationalists, sexists, anti-semitic and ‘phobic in just about every way. They are not welcome at my table.
So, why do I keep quiet around my family? It’s because I have no idea how they’d react.
When my grandfather found out, he repeatedly insisted that I was still Catholic because I was baptised, whether I liked it or not. Which isn’t even true by Catholic law; I was never confirmed. Being baptised as an infant was the choice of my parents, but I never took responsibility for faithfulness later on.
Nevertheless, the idea that I willingly chose to leave the church was horrifying to him. That was a sign that I was choosing a life of sin rather than one of faith.
To belong to a different religion was just a sign of rebellion against the true word of God.
I’m fortunate in that most people in my life couldn’t care less. My housemates are atheists, and apart from a bit of teasing about religion in general, they don’t mind.
My partner, too, simply made a point of learning about my faith when we first started dating.
This is not the case for everyone.
In the broader pagan community, we often joke about being ‘In the broom closet’. You know—witches and brooms. For various reasons, many people have to remain in the broom closet to avoid persecution and abuse.
Religious discrimination is still a pretty big problem, even in the modern day. Pagans fear everything from getting kicked out of our homes, losing our jobs, and having family completely cut off contact with us.
Keeping your silence may be necessary, but it sucks in a lot of ways. We don’t automatically get time off for our religious holidays the way that Christians do, and that’s just one example.
I’ve been lucky enough that I’ve only run into a few mild expressions of discrimination. I had one coworker who avoided me for weeks after she found out, I had a pastor from another coworker’s church start turning up and preaching at me while ordering coffee on days I worked.
Beyond those incidents, most of the people I met at work didn’t even bat an eye. I live in a relatively Christian-centric town, but it’s nowhere near as bad as some places in the United States.
And it isn’t just in the southern Bible Belt, either. Take this example of blatant religious discrimination, workplace harassment, and illegal firing that took place in Pennsylvania.
Some of the stories in this case feel pretty familiar to me. I’ve been informed that I’m going to Hell many, many times.
That threat doesn’t mean anything to me, personally. But to others, it can be a heavy weight on their minds. You don’t need to be pagan to feel the judgment of this sort—you just need to not be a ‘perfect’ Christian.
It’s all too easy for people to fall prey to toxicity even within the walls of their own beloved Church.
Back in 2008, a reality TV show hit the airways and took the world by storm. Called 17 Kids and Counting, it was a peek into the world of a fundamentalist Christian worldview.
Specifically, adherents to what is called the Quiverfull Movement.
The Quiverfull Movement takes its name from Psalm 127:3–5:
Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.
Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth.
Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.
They will not be put to shame when they contend with their opponents in court. — New International Version
Comparing the number of children you have to arrows in a quiver, the movement is vehemently anti-birth control and encourages its believers to have as many children as humanly possible.
As with most fundamentalist Christian belief systems, this sect is highly conservative. They demand rigid conformity with strict gender roles and are highly steeped in the toxicity of purity culture.
For women, this is not a healthy way to live. Think Tradwife, with the expectation of being pregnant as often as you physically can.
And for men, it isn’t a particularly good deal either. Imagine being the sole provider for such a large family in this day and age! You are expected to be everything from provider to disciplinarian to head of the household.
The toll on both parents is extreme. But the women and children are in a ridiculously vulnerable position.
First of all, pregnancy is heavily taxing on the body. Most of us are familiar with at least a few of the ways that it can go terribly wrong; everything from gestational diabetes to preeclampsia to sepsis and heart conditions. And that’s the result of a normal pregnancy.
When you get pregnant repeatedly without time to fully recover, the potential consequences can be considerably worse. Both for the pregnant person and for the growing fetus.
When you throw in the stress of caring for multiple young children as you go through pregnancy, it’s not hard to see that these women are not able to prioritize their own health.
Often, the duties of caring for younger children fall on the eldest siblings because mom just can’t do it all on her own. And because of the strict gender roles within the movement, it specifically lands on the older girls.
It’s no surprise that a large number of young women who flee the movement choose to be child-free later on. They never got childhoods; they were forced to be secondary parents instead.
This is an abusive situation no matter which way you slice it.
Religious trauma can be ruthless. Sometimes it looks as extreme as the Quiverfull Movement, and sometimes it looks like more mundane bigotry and prejudice.
Members of the LGBTQ+ community who come from Christian families quite often report anxiety, depression, and self-hatred. Some are taught that they are sinful, and demonized for the crime of being born the way they are.
Shame is the most deadly weapon in the fundamentalist arsenal.
This shaming can extend in many different directions, especially in denominations that heavily emphasize purity culture, as I alluded to above.
Purity culture is based largely upon the idea that it is the job of women to control the thoughts and behaviors of men. Be feminine, but don’t you dare be a source of ‘temptation’.
Women who remain pure and virginal are fit to be brides; women who aren’t virgins are impure, used up, and valueless. Analogies like chewed gum, and tape that’s been used so many times it loses its ability to ‘stick’ are often used.
This shaming of sexuality extends to survivors of assault.
If the man has sinned, it’s only because he is a child of Adam. The woman is Eve; it’s her fault for ‘offering’ him the apple.
Remember 17 Kids and Counting? That show followed the Duggar family, which is now up to 19 kids and over 30 grandchildren. The most recent iteration of the show was re-named 19 Kids and Counting as the family expanded.
It has since been cancelled due to a now infamous scandal; the eldest son was accused of abusing and molesting his younger sisters.
His family knew. They kept the secret for him, but they did not protect the girls. He continued to abuse them and was eventually convicted for related crimes and possession of illegal pictures and videos involving minors.
This culture of silence around abuse is a common one in Christian circles. It comes from the same place as the Catholic Church’s habit of protecting and covering up priests who abuse the children under their authority.
Religious trauma is the elephant in the room that we do not like to acknowledge. But silence doesn’t help the victims.
As I said, shame is a deadly weapon. It can be used to silence dissent, protect and enable abusers, and perpetuate a culture of trauma and grief.
Not all religious people are interested in hurting anyone; most Christians, like most human beings, are good and charitable people who would never wish ill upon anyone.
But if we refuse to acknowledge the harm done by the rest, we’re only allowing it to fester.
Nor is it solely a problem of Christianity—like I said above, my own faith of Heathenry has a serious problem of white nationalism, and we have to fight every single day to keep those people from becoming the face of our religion.
Bad people should be criticized, and bad beliefs should be called out and deconstructed.
Those of us who practice religion of any kind need to take responsibility for doing exactly that, and standing up for one another when the need arises.
I would gladly step up against an abuser and bring scrutiny down on my group any day of the week if the alternative is standing by and letting it happen.
That’s my duty. It should be yours, too.
When you recognize evil, call it evil, and give your enemies no peace. — Hávamál 127
Solidarity wins.
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As someone who has also been persecuted by Christians, had a wife leave me years ago when I announced I wasn't going to pretend to be a Christian anymore, and so on, I sympathize. I, too, have a little altar space in my home where I practice my faith on the high, holy days. My wife, who is a fairly new Christian convert from Buddhism, just shrugs her shoulders when I retreat and hold a celebration of one kind or another.
Fanatical Christians, Muslims, Hindu's and other religions are always going to be everywhere we go. I don't advertise, nor do I hide my religious preferences from the world. Just visit my website to see how public I can be.
I have no use for fanatics of any kind, and I have met many in my life. All we can do is stay true to our beliefs and let the others do as they will, as long as they don't try to convert us in the process. I tend to become a little belligerent when they do.
Former third order Franciscan here Sam who left the church when the Pope ruled that transgender folk could not be valid members of the Catholic Church. A number of scandals about priests sexually abusing young people broke about the same time along with the fact that bishops had been actively working to cover up and hide the abuse which only helped to firm up my decision to leave. These days I acknowledge the formerly heretical Doctrine of the Free Spirit as well as the writings of other Christian mystics as being the spiritual direction that I prefer to follow. I have absolutely no problem with anyone who follows the so called 'pagan' religions, but I definitely do with christian fundamentalists who have plainly never read the Bibles they like to wave around.