When Faith Hurts: Religious Trauma, Racism, and the Fight for True Freedom
Black Jesus by Titus Kaphar, 2020, via Titus Kaphar website
Religion is meant to heal, but for many Americans, it has also left scars.
Religious belief has long shaped the culture and politics of the United States. It can be a source of meaning and community, but it can also cause deep harm. Religious trauma refers to the psychological, emotional, and spiritual wounds caused by harmful teachings, communities, or doctrines (Winell, 2011). These wounds are not rare. In the United States, where Christianity has long dominated public life, religious trauma is increasingly recognized not only as an individual struggle but as a collective wound with profound racial, social, and political consequences.
The contradiction is stark. While the Constitution promises freedom of religion, that freedom is uneven. Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC), LGBTQ+ individuals, women, and those outside dominant Christian traditions have too often been told that they do not belong. Religion has been used both as a sanctuary and as a weapon, binding some together while cutting others out. The result is a nation where millions carry spiritual wounds: shame, fear, and the trauma of being told their very existence is “other.”
As we consider what religious freedom truly means in 2025, the question becomes: can freedom be meaningful when so many still live with the scars of religious harm?
The Individual Impact of Religious Trauma
Religious trauma leaves deep marks on individuals. Survivors often describe anxiety, depression, shame, or even symptoms of post-traumatic stress. These harms are most common in rigid or authoritarian religious settings, where questioning was discouraged and deviation from doctrine met with fear, guilt, or rejection (Winell, 2011).
As scholar Monte Mader observes, “Religious trauma doesn’t come from belief itself, but from environments where questioning is punished, conformity is demanded, and individuals—especially children—are not given the right to consent” (Mader, 2024). It is not faith itself that wounds, but cultures of control that weaponize it.
For many, the pain is also tied to identity. Women raised in purity culture internalize the belief that their worth depends on sexual “purity.” LGBTQ+ individuals are told their very existence is sinful or disordered. Survivors describe silencing and erasure in spaces where their voices never mattered. These experiences fracture identity and make it difficult to separate spiritual growth from harmful dogma.
For BIPOC communities, religion has been both a source of resilience and a site of trauma. Black churches have long been centers of liberation and hope, while Christianity also justified slavery, segregation, and ongoing racial hierarchies. Indigenous peoples endured forced conversions and suppression of traditions. Even today, predominantly white churches may exclude or tokenize BIPOC members, while colonial and white supremacist frameworks persist in many communities of color.
Religious trauma is not just personal—it is systemic. The same structures that silence dissent also uphold hierarchies of race, gender, and sexuality.
The Collective Impact of Religious Trauma
The effects of religious trauma ripple outward into families, communities, and society. Congregations fracture as younger generations reject the institutions that shaped their parents and grandparents.
According to the Pew Research Center, the fastest-growing religious identity in the U.S. is now the “nones”—those who claim no religious affiliation. This group includes atheists, agnostics, the spiritual-but-not-religious, and people who still pray or meditate outside institutions. For many, leaving organized religion is not about abandoning faith but about refusing to remain in spaces where harm is normalized. The rise of the “nones” reflects both disillusionment and creativity: millions are seeking new ways to construct meaning, ethics, and belonging beyond traditional structures.
African American women know this dynamic well. In I Bring the Voices of My People: A Womanist Vision for Racial Reconciliation, clinical psychologist and theologian Chanequa Walker-Barnes describes a moment many share: “We were mourning. And we went to church on Sunday morning, hoping we would hear a word of comfort. And many of us who went to either multi-racial or predominantly white spaces found no word of comfort. And found no word at all.” This absence of solace is itself a wound—one that pushes people toward new forms of community, beyond the walls of what they’ve known.
These dynamics are not abstract—they are playing out in real time. From school board meetings where books are banned in the name of “Christian values,” to statehouses where reproductive and LGBTQ+ rights are stripped away under religious pretexts, trauma is stitched into the very fabric of civic life. Meanwhile, Gen Z—the most diverse, progressive, and least religious generation in U.S. history—is walking away from churches in droves. On TikTok, Instagram, and podcasts, #Exvangelical and #Deconstruction communities now serve as digital sanctuaries, where young people process harm, find language for their wounds, and reimagine belonging on their own terms.
Religious trauma also fuels polarization. When issues like reproductive rights, racial justice, or gender identity are framed as battles of good versus evil, nuance is lost. Christian nationalism amplifies this by framing pluralism itself as a threat (Whitehead & Perry, 2020).
Race remains central. Religious narratives have been used to sanctify systemic racism—from justifying slavery and segregation to erasing Indigenous cultures. Today, those legacies endure when religiously infused politics support policies that disadvantage people of color. When entire communities are told through teaching, law, or policy that they are “less than,” the wound becomes societal.
This erosion of trust undermines civic life. When people lose faith not only in religion but also in institutions tied to religion—schools, charities, even government—they disengage. In the vacuum, extremism thrives. Religious trauma, then, is not simply a private matter of faith; it is a public crisis that shapes the health of democracy itself.
Political Turmoil and National Consequences
Christian nationalism has brought this crisis to a breaking point. It insists America is a “Christian nation” and demands civic life reflect one narrow theology. While framed as defending morality and tradition, its real effect is exclusionary and destabilizing.
The consequences are far-reaching. Culture wars intensify. Polarization deepens. Public trust erodes. By casting social issues as cosmic battles, Christian nationalism leaves no room for pluralism or compromise.
Race is inseparable from this story. Christian nationalism has always been intertwined with efforts to preserve white dominance, from biblical justifications of slavery to modern rhetoric against immigrants and racial justice (MacLean & Knoll, 2025). The trauma it inflicts is not only spiritual but civic: entire groups are denied belonging in both religious and political life.
The January 6th, 2021, insurrection revealed the danger vividly. Crosses and Christian flags appeared alongside symbols of white supremacy, exposing how religion can be weaponized to justify violence. When freedom of religion is distorted into freedom for only a select group, democracy itself is weakened.
Pathways Toward Healing
If religious trauma is both deeply personal and profoundly collective, healing must also occur on every level.
Individual healing begins with naming harm. Therapy, peer groups, and trauma-informed care give survivors a safe space to process shame and reclaim their voices. Some walk away from religion altogether; others reimagine faith in liberating and life-giving ways. The common thread is empowerment—restoring agency to those who were silenced.
Community healing is vital. Religion often functions less as a source of belief than as an opportunity for belonging. People stay in harmful spaces because they cannot imagine life without community. Healing requires building new forms of connection: interfaith coalitions, secular circles, mutual aid networks, or spiritual practices that affirm differences. Drawing on scholars like Elizabeth A. McAlister reminds us that diasporic and Afro-Caribbean communities long have blended tradition, performance, dance, story, and ritual to sustain belonging—carrying both trauma and resilience. Community is not optional; it is the soil where healing takes root.
Societal healing requires systemic change. This means recommitting to church-state separation, dismantling racial legacies in religious institutions, and creating policies that affirm pluralism. Education, dialogue, and public acknowledgment of harm are essential to breaking cycles of trauma.
Healing is not about erasing faith, but reclaiming it as a force for belonging.
The Future of Belonging
Religious trauma in the United States is both intimate and expansive. It scars individuals, fractures communities, fuels racism, and destabilizes democracy. Yet survivors are reclaiming their stories, the “nones” are imagining new forms of meaning and connection, and communities are learning that belonging does not require conformity.
Healing requires courage: to name harm, to confront the legacies of exclusion, and to reimagine what faith, freedom, and democracy can mean. Healing also requires action: creating communities of belonging outside toxic institutions, demanding policies that protect pluralism, and amplifying voices long silenced in religious spaces.
Healing religious trauma is not only about repairing the past; it is about building a just and pluralistic future where everyone truly belongs—and where our differences become sources of strength rather than wounds.
Reference List:
Winell M. Leaving the Fold: A Guide for Former Fundamentalists and Others Leaving Their Religion. Oakland, CA: New Harbinger Publications; 2011.
Whitehead AL, Perry SL. Taking America Back for God: Christian Nationalism in the United States. New York, NY: Oxford University Press; 2020.
Stewart K. The Power Worshippers: Inside the Dangerous Rise of Religious Nationalism. New York, NY: Bloomsbury Publishing; 2020.
Perry SL, Whitehead AL, Davis J. A colorblind Christian country? How racial attitudes affect support for Christian nationalism and civil religion: Evidence from a survey experiment. Politics and Religion. 2023;16(3):466-489. doi:10.1017/S1755048322000416
MacLean M, Knoll B. How Christian nationalism promotes White supremacy. Socius. 2025;11:1-16. doi:10.1177/23326492251352804Pew Research Center. Modeling the Future of Religion in America. Published September 13, 2022. Accessed September 15, 2025. https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2022/09/13/modeling-the-future-of-religion-in-america
Mader M. Were You Taught Faith Or Programmed To Obey? Rooted Recovery Stories podcast. Published 2024. Accessed September 15, 2025.
Walker-Barnes C. Too Heavy a Yoke: Black Women and the Burden of Strength. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock; 2018.
Walker-Barnes C. I Bring the Voices of My People: A Womanist Vision for Racial Reconciliation. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans; 2020.
McAlister EA. Rara!: Vodou, Power, and Performance in Haiti and Its Diaspora. Berkeley: University of California Press; 2002.