No longer “protecting my peace”
A Note From Megan | Publication Date: February 23rd, 2026
I came across a post on Instagram last week that I can’t stop thinking about.
It’s from Christabel Mintah-Galloway, a queer Black African educator who teaches relational skills and communication.
And while it isn’t specifically about religious trauma, I think it will resonate for many of us with family members whose politics intersect in toxic ways with their theology (for example, Christian Nationalism).
In a nutshell, she’s challenging the reflex to cut “toxic people” out of our lives in the name of “protecting our peace.” That hit me because I absolutely have that reflex.
Before I go further, I want to be clear—comfort and safety are not the same thing.
I would never encourage someone to stay in a relationship that is emotionally, physically, or identity-wise unsafe. And for many people raised with religious coercion, safety concerns with family are very real.
What I’m exploring in this Note is the in-between space in relationships—the space where a relationship isn’t harmful, but it is deeply uncomfortable.
To give you a bit of a sense of what you’re getting into, Christabel’s reel, which I’ll link below, is addressing racism and white supremacy. In it, she names “protecting my peace” as a phrase that can sometimes be co-opted to protect whiteness.
It think it’s important to recognize that her message seems to be confrontational on purpose, and it may be tough to take in at first.
So if you’re not in the headspace for that right now, no worries at all. You can simply skip the rest of this section or come back to it when the timing is better.
Here’s a recap of the lines that really stayed with me over the past week.
Christabel Minteh-Galloway: “We have confused feeling calm with being good. But if you are cutting off family members because you hate ‘toxicity,’ I don’t believe you. I think you just hate discomfort and awkwardness. And if you actually hated harm, you would stay in the room and make it impossible for the bigots in your life to be comfortable.”
Phew, ok.
Every time I watch this reel or read her words, it activates A LOT of discomfort for me. In fact, I feel called out.
And I’m curious what it brings up for you? What do you notice in your body after taking in this message? What automatic thoughts (or people) pop into your mind?
This Note isn’t so much about clearly outlining my own defined perspective on the topic of how to handle relationships that exist in the “in-between” space I mentioned above.
In fact, I’m still very much in the messy middle of figuring out what Christabel’s perspective means for me, and how I want to handle some of my own relationships moving forward.
Again, this is about situations and relationships where I’m not in danger, but I’m avoiding the discomfort and potential social cost of clearly stating my values or opening up discourse about difficult topics—topics I know will invite some degree of disagreement or even conflict.
How should those of us with more social power (especially those of us who hold white privilege) handle our discomfort? Do we disengage so we can “protect our peace,” or do we lean into it and see where it might take us?*
This topic may feel especially pertinent for those of us who deeply care about justice work and also know what it is like to freeze, fawn, shut down, or go numb in conflict because of our upbringing and/or experiences with high-control religion.
When you’re indoctrinated into a high-control religion, the reality is that conflict or discomfort in the here and now can still feel like danger, even when it isn’t. So we find ways to self-protect and “stay safe” even when, objectively, we are safe.
It’s important to think about whether, in these situations, we might really be avoiding the hard work of staying present with discomfort rather than actually seeking safety.
*I do want to note that for people living with chronic illness or disability, nervous system regulation may be essential for your physical health, and these questions are not meant to challenge you to take any actions that will compromise your health.
In getting to know many folks in the Religious Harm Recovery community over the past few years, I’ve found there are many of us who still deeply resonate with values like caring for the vulnerable and marginalized.
In fact, it’s those very values that actually led some of us out of the high-control groups we were once a part of.
And if that’s the case for you, I’m really curious about how Christabel’s message is landing?
Essentially, if our goal is really to combat harm and advocate for the vulnerable, marginalized, and disenfranchised—to dismantle systems of oppression—then how are you navigating the relationships with “the bigots in your life?”
As I mentioned above, I’m someone who has historically found it much easier to unfriend or block or cut off contact with people who remain bought-in to toxic, self-serving ideologies.
Again, this is not about safety in my case because I’m not in any kind of emotional, psychological, or physical danger from these people.
It’s about comfort. My comfort. I simply don’t want to see or hear about or deal with what I’ve come to consider deeply odious beliefs.
But what if I didn’t cut them off?
What if I not only kept the lines of communication open, but I also became more intentional about openly and honestly and thoroughly communicating my thoughts and beliefs?
Maybe certain people would become combative or try to fight me on it.
Or maybe I would become intolerable to them, and then I would be the one to be unfriended or cut off.
Or maybe, just maybe, it would spark curiosity. It would create space for real dialogue. It would become the conduit for meaningful change.
I have no way of knowing, but I have certainly been challenged to start looking at relationships with people with divergent viewpoints a little bit differently since seeing Christabel’s post.
So instead of trying to “protect my peace,” I would really like to find ways to shore up my wherewithal to openly and honestly communicate my beliefs and my values, regardless of the audience.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one. I’m opening up a thread in the Religious Harm Recovery Facebook community if you’d like to join the discussion.
If you’re not already part of the group, request access by using the button below: