Religious Trauma Syndrome: Mika's ASL Story

Mika shares her story of Religious Trauma Syndrome, which she experienced while growing up as an adoptive child in a strict Mennonite family where sexual abuse occurred. After her adoptive father was sent to jail, her time living with a foster family gave her exposure to other religious views and impacted her religious life. The transcript is in the comment section.
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Transcript: Mika is sitting in front of a light-colored wall that is illuminated with a strand of white lights hanging behind her and wrapped around the pole of a standing lamp. She is wearing a black zippered top with short sleeves and signing her story. Hi everyone! I’d like to share about my Religious Trauma Syndrome (RTS) experience. I was born in another country and moved to the US where I was adopted by a white family, along with many other adopted sisters. For a few years, our lives seemed to be normal. We were allowed to wear any kind of clothes we wanted, including sleeveless or short-sleeved tops, dresses, or pants. We could let our hair grow long or cut it short. We did go to a Christian church regularly, but we weren’t extremely involved church members then. After a few years, however, our parents abruptly decided, without any warning, that everything would change. We would get rid of our lifestyle, throw out all of our clothes, and start following the Mennonite religion, which is one of the Christian groups. This meant that we all had to wear dresses every single day, and all of our socks, shoes, coats, gloves, hats, shirts, undergarments, and other clothing had to be black. We wouldn’t be allowed to cut our hair anymore. In fact, we would have to braid it and hid it in a bun. So, we became more involved with the church. We were forbidden to go to places like Disneyland and to engage in any fantasy play such as believing in Santa Claus, or celebrating Halloween by trick-or-treating or wearing costumes. We weren’t allowed to go to the movies or have anything to do with magic, such as Harry Potter. There was a lot to get used to. A few years later, our parents announced that we would be moving to a different state, explaining that it was because God had called us to do so. Our parents flew to different states before deciding which one was the right one for us. We packed up and moved there. We started becoming more seriously involved with the church and attended bible study group. I remember on Thursday nights, Dad would call us to sit and listen to him preach. At the same time, our parents started adopting more girls. I couldn’t believe they wanted more. I remember clearly that night when Dad blew up at me for asking why we had to adopt girls when we already had enough girls, and suggesting to him that it was time to adopt a boy instead. Angrily, he responded, “Do not ever question me ever again.” I backed off meekly, and next asked my mother the same question. She responded that God had called them to adopt girls who needed new homes. After thinking it over, I realized that the reason they wanted to adopt more girls was because of Dad. There was sexual abuse involved - Dad molested us. How was that related to the Christian church? People at church would exclaim about us being such beautiful girls and tell our parents how lucky we were to have such big-hearted parents open their home to us. They had no idea what they were doing to us behind closed doors. It was a complete cover-up. So, every time we went to church, there would be a lot of compliments and praise. All the while, I would wonder about what Dad was doing to us and try to make sense of how it could be an acceptable part of Christianity. Dad wielded complete control over all of us girls and our mother. Then one day, Dad went to jail and I was placed in a foster home where I lived with a foster family. I was puzzled when I noticed that my foster parents did not go to church regularly like I had with my family, even though they went sometimes. It was from my foster mom that I learned that there were other religions besides Christianity. I was surprised because I had no idea about that before. My foster mom went to a Unitarian church, which was different than the Christian church I had attended. I really liked it, and I started opening my mind to the idea of different religions. At my old church, which was a strong Baptist one, I remember the emphasis on the Trinity of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and the belief that they are three in one. The Unitarian church, in contrast, believed in one God only. The Unitarian church was open to everyone from all backgrounds and believed that everyone was free and equal, and valued everyone’s right to live their own lifestyle. I really liked that. I did continue to go to Christian church once in a while with the family, such as on holidays and other occasions, but much less often than before because I was living at school and then at college. When I went to college, I met friends who practiced religion, mostly Christian ones. We’d have conversations that really struck me. There was one conversation I had with someone with whom I had GLBTQ friends in common. We were talking about if one of our GLBTQ friends who were a couple decided to get married or asked us to go to a Pride community event, whether or not we would go to show our support. That person said no, because God was against it. That was an eye-opener or me. Another conversation revolved around the topic of being saved or not being saved: if you were saved, you would go to heaven, while if you were not saved, you would go to hell. I asked the other person if they were saved, and was told yes. When that person asked me if I was saved, I said I had been saved a long time ago when I went to a Baptist church (even though I really didn’t understand anything about it then). The other person told that I would be going to heaven then, because I was saved. Then, I asked what about other people who weren’t strong, practicing Christians, like one of my favorite people, Gandhi, who believed in Hinduism, not Christianity. Would he go to hell? The other person responded that yes, he would indeed go to hell because you had to be a saved Christian in order not to. Listening to that, I just couldn’t follow the Christian faith. It clashed with what I believed in. I felt so torn and confused. I was tired of being criticized for my experiences, for not going to church, and for not getting together in groups to discuss and memorize bible verses. I had had enough of being judged. It was unsettling and very tough. In spite of this, I kept on with my life. I learned that I want everyone to show mutual respect and care for each other. I have healed by spending time with other people have experiences and upbringings similar to mine. We help each other get better by sharing different resources and tips. I’m lucky to have my family, too. So, being Christian doesn’t fit me - I know many, really all religions have some good parts - but I can’t just follow one religion. This is the story of my whole life. I’m happy with who I am today and I’m content with what I am doing. Life is good. I have many people in my life who have my back and support me. That’s it. Thank you for watching.