A decade after the genocide, Rev. Cecil Murray was in Rwanda with researchers from the center I direct at USC. He visited a Christian organization serving women survivors of the genocide – most lost their whole families and endured horrific sexual violence. Many were dying of AIDS. Some were mothers whose only living children were born of rape.
During a healing service there, the president hears that Rev. Murray is a pastor and professor. He asks him to address the group. Rev. Murray obliges and walks to the front of the room. He takes out a newish, pink Rwandan Franc. He holds it between his two hands and asks, “how much is this worth?”
The women pause with looks of puzzlement. After all, they were told he was a religious leader of great esteem in the U.S., yet he asking them a plainly obvious question. They indulge him and reply, “5,000 francs.” He holds it in his hands and then dramatically crumples it, stomps on it, and dirties it on the floor. He even tears the corner and spits on it. Everyone watches with semi-suspended confusion and growing discomfort. He holds it between his two hands again, “And now, how much is it worth?” The women reply, “it’s still worth 5,000 francs;” their discomfort and confusion hang in the air. Rev. Murray explains, “And so are you. Nothing you have experienced, nothing anyone has done to you, can change your value. You are still worth the same.”
This resonates so powerfully because it holds a deep truth-no one who has experienced sexual violence is worth any less. The harder, more revealing truth of this mini-sermon however, is that we don’t really treat survivors as if it is true.
But we could, and with the growing #MeToo movement, maybe we will.
