Why?

For the past several years, I have been researching material that is emotionally draining, intellectually dense, and morally serious. The resistance I have felt in bringing this work forward has not come from indifference, but from a combination of grief, fear, responsibility, and the challenge of transforming fragments of knowledge into a coherent narrative. There has always been a lingering fear that my own limitations could result in work that falls short of the seriousness of the subject—or worse, feels like a betrayal of the truth I am attempting to convey.

My understanding of the world has changed dramatically over the last five years, and I expect it will continue to evolve as I learn more. There is unease in knowing that the person writing these words today will not be the same person reading them five years from now. My political beliefs may change. My religious convictions may shift. My perspective on countless issues will continue to develop. Yet some truths remain beyond dispute.

Child sexual abuse is unacceptable. Incest is reprehensible and socially devastating. The suffering these realities create extends far beyond individual lives and echoes across generations. What began as an attempt to understand my own family gradually expanded into an examination of broader social, cultural, and political forces that affect us all.

It is in that spirit that I continue this work.

Immersing myself in this subject matter has taken a toll on my mental, physical, and spiritual well-being. There were times when sadness and despair hardened into anger and frustration, and I reacted in ways I am not proud of.

Regardless of the pedophiles, con artists, vacuum cleaners, and their hidden-hand henchmen (a story for another time), it is my responsibility to own those mistakes and take control of my emotional state. I refuse to run and hide, but I know I must carry myself differently moving forward. The road may be hard, but I am responsible for how I choose to travel it.

I say this not to elicit pity, but to inspire hope. We all suffer in this life; what matters is what we make of that suffering.

For too long, I have put off writing about what I’ve learned because the task felt monumental. However challenging it may be, it is time to stop dwelling in the material and begin shaping it into something useful. The information I have gathered does not belong to me alone. If understanding the past can help prevent future harm, then these stories deserve to be told, however difficult they may be to hear.

I recognize that bringing these stories into the light may have consequences for people whose lives intersect with them, whether directly or indirectly. Some may encounter painful truths about their families, communities, institutions, or themselves. Others may be forced to revisit wounds that never fully healed.

I do not take that possibility lightly. My intention is not to sensationalize suffering, assign collective guilt, or inflict unnecessary harm. It is to confront difficult realities honestly and responsibly. Some truths carry weight, and that weight does not disappear simply because we choose not to acknowledge it.

The pain at the center of this work did not begin with its telling. Silence cannot undo what happened; at best, it can postpone our reckoning with it. My hope is that by examining these subjects with honesty and care, we can better understand the forces that shaped them and reduce the likelihood that future generations will repeat the same mistakes.

“You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you odd.” – Flannery O’Connor