Truth is still in the business of setting people free.People often misunderstand what happens when a woman calls a domestic violence hotline
Truth is still in the business of setting people free.
People often misunderstand what happens when a woman calls a domestic violence hotline or reaches out to an advocate.
They imagine we tell her what to think.
What to do.
How to feel.
That isn’t true.
We listen carefully.
Without rushing.
Without judging.
Without needing to defend anyone involved.
We listen in ways that loved ones may want to, but sometimes can’t—because they’re too close to the situation, too overwhelmed, or too afraid of what the truth might mean.
Then we share information.
Not commands.
Relevant options.
Resources.
Safety knowledge.
What support can look like.
And we remind her of something that abuse tries to steal:
That her voice matters.
That her perceptions make sense.
That people care about her life.
A big part of the work is helping her rebuild trust in herself.
To hear her own instincts again.
To believe her own knowing.
To remember that she is allowed to take her own thoughts seriously.
That’s not control.
That’s care.
Here’s something we don’t talk about enough.
When people are constantly told:
don’t trust your eyes
don’t trust your instincts
something breaks.
Not just intellectually.
Emotionally. Spiritually. Human-ly.
People are not built to live disconnected from their own inner alarm system.
So when intuition gets mocked.
When insight gets punished.
When dissent gets treated like danger.
When real life gets dismissed as “anecdotal.”
A vacuum forms.
And vacuums don’t stay empty.
They create thirst.
People start craving something that will tell them:
“You’re not crazy.”
“You’re not imagining it.”
“You’re allowed to notice things.”
That thirst turns into markets.
Into tech.
Into movements.
Into anything that promises answers and certainty.
And it also turns into something softer:
A hunger to be seen.
A hunger to be treated gently.
A hunger to feel safe with someone.
That’s why women in abusive relationships are so often misunderstood when they seek affection somewhere else.
People call it messy.
Or wrong.
Or weak.
But a lot of the time, it’s not about cheating.
It’s about breathing.
It’s about touching something that doesn’t hurt.
And here’s a detail from real life that stays with me.
There have been cases where men involved in violent white-supremacist groups committed murder and refused to speak to anyone afterward. Wouldn’t answer questions. Wouldn’t cooperate.
Until they were offered a Black detective.
Then they talked.
Men who built their identity around hatred still chose, in the end, the person who felt most real to them. The most steady. The least performative. The safest place to tell the truth.
That’s how deep this instinct runs.
You can train people into lies.
You can flood their minds with ideology.
You can shame their perception for years.
But under pressure, something human still reaches for what feels solid.
For whoever sounds like reality.
Being angry at people for how they survive rarely fixes anything.
Shame doesn’t make people wiser.
It just makes them quieter.
What actually helps?
letting people speak without punishment
taking lived experience seriously
teaching discernment instead of blind obedience
allowing “I was wrong” without destroying someone
making room for intuition again
building spaces where truth doesn’t get you exiled
That’s how you reverse this.
Not by yelling at thirsty people.
But by restoring the water. (Caution: “restoring the water” doesn’t mean you returning to unsafe. disrespectful, or abusive conditions)
By remembering that humans were never meant to outsource their knowing.
And that when we silence the parts of people that sense danger, meaning, or love…
something else will step in and offer to do the sensing for them.
You are allowed to stand in the truth. And that is where freedom starts.