I once sat across from someone who was supposed to protect me — heart thumping, throat tight, hoping they’d understand the weight of what I was about to say.
But instead, I heard phrases like:
“It already happened, we can’t undo it.”
“Maji yakimwagika…” (Spilled water can’t be gathered.)
“Even if you went back, it would still happen.”
“Let it slide.”
“Don’t dwell in the past.”
“Forgive me so that God can release my blessing.”
“Maybe it happened so you could be close to me.”
And finally, a soft sigh:
“I’m sorry.”
But the sorry didn’t land.
Not because I didn’t want to forgive.
Not because I didn’t believe in grace.
But because the apology came after a string of sentences that tried to minimize my pain — wrap it in denial, religion, and resignation.
It didn’t feel like accountability.
It felt like avoidance.
What Happens When Survivors Are Silenced by Spiritual Language
When we share our truth — especially truth rooted in trauma — we don’t just need someone to hear us; we need them to hold space without shifting the focus to their own comfort or spiritual clarity.
Telling a survivor:
“Let it slide”
“Don’t dwell in the past”
“Maybe it happened for a reason”
…isn’t healing.
It’s harmful.
It tells us:
Your pain is inconvenient.
Your voice is too loud.
Your story makes me uncomfortable — let’s wrap it in scripture and move on.
But we can’t move on from what hasn’t been fully met with truth
True Apology is More Than Words
A true apology says:
“I believe you.”
“You didn’t deserve that.”
“I’m here, and I won’t turn away from your pain.”
“I take full responsibility — no excuses, no spiritual bypassing.”
And then it listens.
And keeps listening.
Even when it’s hard.
Even when it hurts.
For Those Who’ve Been Dismissed
If you’ve ever been told to “get over it,” or been met with an apology that felt like salt on a wound — know this:
Your pain is not too much.
Your story matters.
You don’t need to spiritualize your suffering to make others feel better.
You have every right to grieve what happened.
We’re Allowed to Want More
We are allowed to want more than just a “sorry.”
We are allowed to expect integrity, presence, and honest reckoning.
And until we get it, we will continue to speak, write, scream, weep, and rise.
Because healing doesn’t come from silence.
It comes from truth.
