The Blogs: One woman’s journey from fear to faith-rooted courage

For three years, I told myself that silence was love. Every time I chose not to speak, I convinced myself I was shielding the people I loved most from a pain I couldn’t take back once it was out in the open. I called it strength. I called it wisdom. Really, I just thought I was protecting my family.

I was wrong.

My silence never protected them. It only protected him — and the men standing beside him.

This piece isn’t meant to shame men. It’s simply a piece of my real-life experience — one I know is shared among many women across the world.

I stayed silent in a home that was once safe and full of love. But when it stopped being safe, I didn’t know what to say or what to think. My silence was out of fear. My silence was out of uncertainty. My silence came from shame.

I kept telling myself that if I stayed silent, I was protecting the people I loved most. But that wasn’t true. I was hurting myself — and I couldn’t even protect myself, so how could I have protected anyone else?

It took three years of abuse before I realized I had to speak up. Something shifted internally right before I did. The longer I stayed silent, the more I felt the guilt of it, and I began praying — not for the strength to keep enduring, but for clarity. For an answer to why this was happening at all. That prayer became a fire I couldn’t put out.

I knew what I believed was being violated, and I knew it needed to change, whatever the cost.

More people got hurt along the way before it ended, but I knew I was doing the right thing. The Lord showed me the way I needed to take.

When I finally spoke, I was scared. But I did it anyway. I didn’t speak because I wanted to change the world for other women. I spoke because enough was enough — for me.

And when I spoke, other women stood up behind me. They started sharing their own stories. They started making their own reports. The more of us who stood up and testified, the more relief there was — for all of us.

But it only took one step of courage for me to realize I was never alone — and it took a village of us to make a difference in our worlds.

Remember: silence about abuse like this isn’t truly helping anyone. It hollows you out, fills you with hate, and feeds you untruths. And that is the complete opposite of what Yeshua tells us about who we are in Him, and He in us.

I realized many years later, as I grew and matured and became more aware of the women around me, how diverse my communities were — yet how many of us shared the same story. That’s why I’ve come to this platform: because I understand the women across the world carrying this. I was one of them. I am one of them.

I didn’t know these numbers until I started writing this. And when I saw them, something in me settled — not because the numbers are good, they’re not, but because I finally had proof of something I’d always felt. I am not alone. And neither are you.

In Israel, over 1 in 4 women — about 900,000 — have experienced violence from a partner or relative. In America, where I’m from, it’s closer to 1 in 3 — nearly 43.5 million women.

Different countries, different languages — yet somehow, the same wondering if anyone else out there understands.

If you’re reading this in Israel and you’ve felt like your story is isolated to you, to your home, to your culture — I want you to see this and feel what I felt. You are part of something much bigger than your pain. And that means you’re also part of something much bigger than your healing — a healing I believe Scripture speaks straight into.

Ephesians 2:10 tells me that I am God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that I should walk in them. I used to think survival was the whole point — that getting through it was enough. But speaking was the good work I was made for all along. It wasn’t something I had to earn permission to do. It was already prepared for me before I ever needed the courage to do it.

So I encourage you, my sister: find your courage. Remember what truly matters — you. No matter what the world says about your place or your position, that does not mean you have to submit to that wicked lie.

If you are still in the silence right now, hear me: it is not protecting the people you love. It never was. Your voice might be the one that gives another woman permission to find hers.

Author bio: Bria Franklin is a speaker, entrepreneur, and community advocate whose work is rooted in faith and resilience. She writes from her own journey — from survival to servant leadership — to encourage women who are still finding the courage to speak.

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