Here we are, more than a month after the release of my “Non-Disclosure” podcast. And now that we’ve had some time to digest the lengthy, heavy and grief-filled material, I’d like to process some of that with you.
The No. 1 thing both I and my editor, Mark Wingfield, hear from listeners is that the content is tough to get through. They want to hear it, folks tell us, but they just can’t make it through the whole thing without having to take a break. Even my colleagues and close friends tell me this — usually with a tender, gentle voice as not to disappoint me.
Mallory Challis
But the truth is, we already know.
The content is brutal to get through because it is about some of the most brutal realities of our world.
Nobody ought to hear seven-plus hours of content about sexual abuse without a break. I was not even able to listen to the episode proofs back-to-back during the editing process, and I created the podcast. I not only knew exactly what was going to occur in each episode but have worked with stories like this for almost my entire journalism career.
But we are only human. It takes time to process these tragedies emotionally, spiritually and logically. It’s healthy to give yourself breaks.
“Nobody gets a medal for exposing themselves to the most trauma in the least amount of time.”
Nobody gets a medal for exposing themselves to the most trauma in the least amount of time. But you may develop what is known as Vicarious Trauma.
This is a condition that can occur when a person engages empathetically with trauma survivors and/or materials relating to traumatic experiences. Vicarious Trauma can manifest in the form of short- or long-term psychological, emotional, spiritual and even physical symptoms, sometimes just like the ones real survivors with PTSD experience.
And while Vicarious Trauma is characterized as a “change” in a person’s psychological state, this is not the type of “change-making” BNG podcasts aim to affect in the world. We should not relinquish our well-being to do the work of justice. Putting ourselves on the backburner may work for a brief season, but it is not a sustainable way to achieve our goals.
I learned this the hard way over the summer while producing the podcast.
Halfway into the summer, I found myself spending most of my days interviewing people about sensitive topics, investigating abuse stories and examining the threads of manipulation, gaslighting and gross criminal behavior across numerous survivors and their families’ experiences. At that same time, I found myself at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship General Assembly.
Of course, I was slipping away periodically to email, call and video conference with survivors and other sources for this project — on top of the full days of work and travel I was doing at the assembly. I was not taking any time to rest or process; I was just doing.
“The project was so important to me that I allowed it to loom over every aspect of my life.”
In the name of bringing this darkness to light, the project was so important to me that I allowed it to loom over every aspect of my life.
Until one evening I made a new friend who asked me “So, what is it that you do?”
Of course, I began talking ad nauseum about my work reporting on child sexual abuse. She waited a beat to respond before saying: “That’s all really great. But what are you doing to take care of yourself?” (I know in hindsight she had caught on to the emotional overwhelm I was not yet attuned to).
I’m sure I gave some on-the-spot answer about professional boundaries or leaning on mentors for support. But truthfully, that question had not even dawned on me. And in that moment, I realized just how heavy the weight of this work was. The next day, I sat down with a minister and talked through it.
So, as we look back on the heavy, hard-to-get-through podcast series, let’s take a deep breath together. Let’s also remind ourselves that, in this insanely complex world, two things can be true at once:
- Listening to difficult stories is holy work that calls us to change-making action.
- God wants us to remain whole while doing so.
And as we breathe out, I would like to remind you of the hopeful parts of the story. Because it does not end at the tragedy of abuse.
Perhaps my favorite part of the podcast is the final two episodes.
In these episodes (six and seven), survivors and their families teach us how resurrection is possible in our everyday lives. They tell the stories of how they survived — or to use Ashton’s words “conquered” — the most devastating moments of their lives by holding steadfast in the promise that their life was worth living.
They tell us how Scripture, therapeutic resources and family bonds helped them rebuild their worlds and find ways to thrive as adults. And they encourage listeners to discover what this looks like in their own lives.
“I also found myself inspired by the overarching theme of community throughout the podcast.”
I also found myself inspired by the overarching theme of community throughout the podcast. Logan tells us, “Healing only happens in community” — a piece of advice he received from his therapist after trying for some time to be “gritty” and figure out his trauma on his own.
And from what I’ve learned after following this story for so long, his therapist was exactly right. The community of victims and survivors from Kanakuk Kamps has come together to do beautiful works of healing in their own lives and in the world around them.
At the beginning of episode four, for instance, Elizabeth tells us about how Trey’s Law, which holds the namesake of her late brother and abuse survivor Trey Carlock, came into effect in Texas and Missouri. Now, victims and survivors of sexual abuse in those states cannot be silenced by Non-Disclosure Agreements like Trey and so many others were at Kanakuk.
And they continue to do this work today, so folks in the future can have an easier path to justice. Perhaps this offers a glimpse of the resurrected lives of future victims and survivors these brave storytellers have irrevocably touched.
So, whether you have listened to each heavy episode intently or are scanning the snippets I’ve just highlighted for pockets of joy, I hope you feel called to engage in change-making conversations in your daily life.
That could be taking David Clohessy’s advice from episode three by asking friends in your congregation if they’ve ever experienced anything in need of reporting, or Jay Kieve’s advice from episode four about maintaining the safety procedures your church has to protect your congregation.
Or maybe you’ll join an organization like Facts About Kanakuk that will help support survivors and engage in legislative change. Or uproot another story to have a change-making conversation about, like Nancy French and I have done with the Kanakuk story.
Whatever change-making seed this podcast plants for you, I am honored to have helped water it.
Mallory Challis is a third-year master of divinity student at Wake Forest University School of Divinity. She is a former Clemons Fellow with BNG and is creator of the “Non-Disclosure” podcast series.