Religion is a paradox. For billions, it’s the bedrock of hope, providing a moral compass and a sense of belonging that nothing else quite touches. But there’s a darker side that’s impossible to ignore if you’re being honest about history—and the present. When we talk about a call to action: women, religion, violence, and power, we aren’t just looking at dusty textbooks or ancient crusades. We are looking at the way modern structures still use sacred texts to keep women in "their place." It's heavy. It’s messy. It’s deeply personal for anyone who has ever sat in a pew, a mosque, or a temple and felt the subtle (or overt) weight of spiritual authority used as a blunt instrument.
Power isn’t just about who holds the gavel or the bank account. In religious contexts, power is the ability to define "God’s will." If "God’s will" is interpreted through a strictly patriarchal lens, women often find themselves at the intersection of spiritual devotion and systemic erasure. We’ve seen this play out in the way domestic abuse is handled in certain conservative religious communities, where a woman is told to "pray harder" or "submit more" to an abusive husband to maintain the sanctity of marriage. That’s not just a theological difference; it’s a dangerous power dynamic that enables physical and emotional harm.
The Grip of Patriarchal Interpretation
Why does this happen? Usually, it’s because of who is holding the pen—or the microphone. For most of recorded history, men have been the primary interpreters of scripture. When you have an all-male clergy or leadership, the lived experiences of women naturally get sidelined. This isn't necessarily a conspiracy in every case, but it is a massive blind spot. Look at the work of scholars like Phyllis Trible, who wrote Texts of Terror. She didn't just look at the "nice" parts of the Bible; she dragged the stories of raped and murdered women in the text into the light, demanding that people stop glossing over them. She argued that if we don't acknowledge the violence in the text, we will keep ignoring the violence authorized by the text.
It’s about control. Plain and simple.
Religion provides a sense of "ultimate" authority. When a leader says, "This is what the Creator wants," it’s hard to argue back. That’s a level of power that a CEO or a politician can only dream of. When that power is used to restrict women’s reproductive rights, their access to education, or their physical movement, it’s a violation of human rights dressed up in Sunday best. We see this globally, from the Yazidi women fighting back after being targeted by religious extremists to the "TradWife" movement on social media that uses religious aesthetics to romanticize a total loss of female agency.
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Faith as a Weapon or a Shield?
You’ve probably seen the headlines about the "Me Too" movement hitting the church—often called #ChurchToo. This was a massive call to action: women, religion, violence, and power converging in real-time. It exposed how many religious institutions prioritize the "reputation of the ministry" over the safety of the victims. Basically, they protected the predator because he was a "vessel of God" and silenced the woman because her voice was "divisive."
This is where the violence becomes systemic. It’s not just a punch or a slap; it’s the spiritual violence of being told your trauma doesn’t matter as much as a man’s career. Honestly, it’s sickening. But—and this is a big "but"—religion is also where many women find the strength to fight back.
Think about Leymah Gbowee. She’s a Liberian peace activist who led a women's movement that helped end the Second Liberian Civil War. She didn't do it despite her faith; she did it because of it. She used the shared religious values of Christian and Muslim women to create a "mass action" for peace. They wore white, they protested, and they even staged a "sex strike" to force the men to negotiate. That is the flip side of the coin. Religion can be the very thing that empowers a woman to say "no more" to violence.
The Call to Action: What Needs to Change
If we want to address the intersection of a call to action: women, religion, violence, and power, we can't just talk in circles. We need actual shifts in how these communities operate. It’s not enough to have a "Women’s Sunday" once a year.
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- Theological Education for All. We need more women in seminaries and leadership roles. Not just as "children’s ministry" leaders, but as the ones defining the doctrine. When women interpret the texts, the focus often shifts toward justice, empathy, and protection for the marginalized.
- Accountability Structures. Religious organizations should not be investigating their own. There needs to be independent oversight when abuse is reported. If a crime is committed, it’s a matter for the police, not just a "private chat" with the elders.
- Deconstructing the "Submissive" Narrative. We have to stop teaching that a woman’s primary virtue is her ability to endure suffering in silence. That is a recipe for enabling violence.
Religious power shouldn't be about "power over," but "power with." When faith is used to justify the suppression of half the human race, it’s no longer faith—it’s just another form of politics, and a cruel one at that. People like Malala Yousafzai have shown the world that you can be deeply religious and still demand the right to an education and a voice. She stood up to a version of religion that used bullets to silence girls, and she used her faith to forgive and keep speaking.
Moving Beyond the Silence
So, what do you actually do with this? If you’re in a religious community, start asking the hard questions. Who makes the decisions? Where does the money go? How are victims treated? If the answer is "we don't talk about that," then you’ve found the problem.
Power is rarely given away; it has to be reclaimed. For women in religious spaces, that reclamation is a holy act. It’s about saying that their bodies, their voices, and their lives are just as sacred as the men standing at the pulpit. It’s about realizing that any "god" who demands the silence of women in the face of violence isn't a god worth following.
Real-World Steps Toward Reform
Breaking the cycle of religious violence requires more than just good intentions. It requires a structural overhaul and a willingness to be "uncomfortable" for the sake of truth.
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- Support Secular-Religious Partnerships: Organizations like the Global Fund for Women often work with local religious leaders who are actually pro-equality. These "insiders" are often the most effective at changing minds because they speak the language of the community.
- Mandatory Reporting Training: Every religious leader, regardless of denomination, should undergo training on how to handle domestic and sexual violence. This includes knowing when to step aside and let legal professionals take over.
- Fund Women-Led Faith Initiatives: There are thousands of small, grassroots groups where religious women are providing shelters, legal aid, and counseling. These are the front lines of the call to action: women, religion, violence, and power.
- Challenge the Language: Pay attention to the metaphors used in sermons. Is "strength" always masculine? Is "submission" always feminine? Language shapes reality. By changing how we talk about the Divine, we change how we treat the human.
The link between religion and violence isn't inevitable. It's a choice made by those in power to maintain the status quo. By demanding a seat at the table—or building a new table entirely—women are proving that power doesn't belong to a specific gender or a specific hierarchy. It belongs to anyone brave enough to speak truth to it.
Actionable Insights for the Path Forward
True change happens when the "rank and file" members of a faith community decide they’ve had enough. You don't need a PhD in theology to recognize when something is wrong. Trust your gut. If a teaching feels like it’s being used to crush someone’s spirit or hide a crime, it probably is.
Start by finding your community. There are growing networks of "Ex-vangelicals," progressive Muslims, and liberal Jewish groups who are doing the work of deconstructing toxic power dynamics. You aren't alone in feeling like something is off.
Demand transparency in leadership. If a religious organization is a "black box" where decisions are made behind closed doors by a small group of men, that is a red flag for potential abuse of power. Advocacy for democratic or representative leadership within faith groups is one of the most direct ways to curb the potential for violence and suppression.
Finally, prioritize the safety of individuals over the preservation of the institution. A church, mosque, or temple is just a building. The people inside it are what matters. When the institution becomes more important than the safety of the women within it, it has lost its way. Redirecting that focus is the most powerful call to action anyone can answer.