Rift: A Memoir of Breaking Away from Christian Patriarchy
Rift, by author Cait West, offers an evocative and raw perspective on the very real implications of patriarchal structures within both restrictive fundamentalist cults as well as greater culture as a whole.
Cait West, an emerging voice in deconstructionist circles, explores her personal journey away from the confines of Christian patriarchy in this memoir. If Westover’s Educated and Doyle’s Untamed could procreate, Rift would be their child. West draws on her experiences growing up in a restrictive religious environment to shed light on the societal and emotional impacts of patriarchy. West tackles complex themes surrounding identity, faith, feminism, and personal liberation. The title, Rift, aptly encapsulates the essence of the memoir, symbolizing the fracture that occurs when one breaks away from deeply entrenched beliefs and societal expectations. It is both compelling and indicative of the themes explored within the text.
In a moment in time where documentaries and podcasts about cults draw a vast viewership, her work will surely appeal to a diverse audience eager to peek through the window of a world different from their own. Her dedication, however, illuminates a possibly more focused target audience: “For those who have seen the cracks beneath their feet and are looking for the other side | For those who have lost friends, family, and community even as they have found themselves | For the little girl who needed to hear this story long ago.” In a time when women are leaving the church at astounding rates, West speaks to these women who have felt the world move beneath their feet as their eyes have opened to the harm of patriarchy, and she speaks to anyone else who looks at this exodus and asks themself why.
West organizes her memoir largely chronologically, allowing readers to journey alongside her from childhood to adulthood. The introduction sets the tone for the emotional and psychological struggles she faces, while the following chapters detail pivotal moments that highlight her awakening and eventual departure from her family and the faith practices of her youth. At times, the journey West takes feels rough and choppy. She leaves readers wanting more–what happened to that friend or family member–or suffering from whiplash jumping in and out of memories. This aspect of West’s storytelling may mirror her experience and certainly creates for readers the turmoil she herself was enduring in these moments of her life. For readers who love full resolutions and tidy bows, some threads of her story are left incomplete or unresolved, much like life.
West’s honest reflections and vivid storytelling draw readers in, inviting them to witness her struggles (and triumphs). In so doing, she speaks to the experience many women have had within a faith tradition. She writes, “I had been taught that limitations on women were a good thing, that they were a protection. But I realized that I hadn’t felt protected so much as trapped.” West explores the internal conflict and numerous costs of when external worldview messaging ceases to align with lived experience.
Readers will celebrate with West as she finds her voice and begins to practice personal agency and self-definition amidst intense patriarchal constraints, both externally and internally. West’s analysis of her upbringing highlights the detrimental effects of rigid gender roles and the expectations placed upon women within conservative religious contexts. The author effectively uses motifs of isolation and rebellion to underscore her emotional journey, making her narrative both relatable and powerful.
And perhaps most poignant is West’s commentary on the state of patriarchy in greater Christian culture. After leaving behind her fundamentalist and restrictive upbringing, she states, “I had imagined that I was leaving patriarchy behind me, that this new world would accept me and let me heal, but it didn’t take me long to realize that this world wasn’t new at all, that the confines I’d grown up with hadn’t disappeared, only expanded.” Even when experiencing a world much more free than the one she was raised in, she could see and feel the destructive hold patriarchy had on daily life. Like carbon dioxide in the air, this version of patriarchy was less obvious yet still destructive. West’s autonomy and humanity were expanding from where they had been under restrictive religion but still had limitations due to her gender. And while many are quick to question beliefs of a restrictive cult, more normalized gender limitations–like who leads a family, who bears the responsibility for children, or even what pronouns are used to describe the divine– are far less likely to be challenged or even noticed even though they are also limiting.
West further explores how painful and complicated re-engaging with faith can be after experiencing this harm. West compares her experience to those happily in the church:
“What they don’t know about religious trauma is that the words that uplift them, inspire them, sing them to sleep, are words that pull on the strings of my memory, unraveling the scraps of experience I have so carefully tried to weave into a new reality. While they find wholeness, I am falling apart. Where they find healing, I am reminded of the wounds inflicted by men of religious authority.” With her honesty, West invites readers to expand their views. While one individual may sit in a pew and find comfort and grounding in a song or verse, those same words or tune may have been used to shame, restrict, or control another individual. Or the words or song may remind them of a community that caused similar harm even if not directly used in such action. West gently challenges readers to practice humility in their experiences and expand their perspective to include those who might feel less than comforted with these faith expressions.
West’s Rift is a powerful testament to the importance of self-exploration and the courage it takes to challenge inherited beliefs. Her evocative prose and raw honesty create an engaging reading experience that resonates deeply. Her reflections are relatable, particularly her experiences of grappling with guilt and fear while seeking freedom. West prompts readers to reconsider the implications of patriarchal structures within religious contexts. When West says, “In breaking away, I found not only my voice but also my worth,” it is both an invitation to empathize with her journey and a call to those similarly ensnared to pursue their path to liberation. For anyone questioning their beliefs or seeking inspiration in their own journey, Rift offers both solace and strength.
Kat, thanks for this helpful review. The part about songs potentially reminding some congregation members “of the wounds inflicted by men of religious authority.” convicts me, but also leaves me wondering what to do. I participate in our church’s praise team and still sometimes lead worship services as a retired pastor. When preparing for and leading worship, choices about worship songs (and more) must be made, recognizing that some of those choices may bring pain (or worse) to some people in the congregation. West’s call to “practice humility in their experiences and expand their perspective to include those who might feel less than comforted with these faith expressions” helps, but it leaves me wondering whether worship leaders could do more to bring encouragement to everyone in the worship service, and avoid causing pain.
West’s comments on how a song can be a soothing experience to some but a painful one for others reminds me of a woman I was acquainted with many years ago who had grown up in the Netherlands and survived the Nazi occupation. She immigrated to Canada after the war and settled into a Reformed-type church. The first time the congregation sang “Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken” to the old familiar tune many of us know, she had a full-blown panic attack. She had never known that song in any other context than as the Nazi national anthem, “Deutschland, Deutschland, Uber Alles.” What warmed the hearts of some, terrorized others.
The pastor wouldn’t remove the song from the congregation’s rotation of singing, but he did agree to let her know when it would be sung so she could choose to stay home.
I wonder if the pastor explored using an alternate tune. There are a couple dozen hymn tunes in 8.7.8.7.D meter, most of them familiar, and several quite workable for that hymn. Of course, not every congregation is equally flexible on such issues. But it might have been a teachable moment on how to care for a traumatized person without making her bear the burden by absenting herself from worship.
But then, I’m projecting our current ideas and practices around trauma onto an earlier generation. I imagine the pastor was doing the best he knew how 75 years ago.