My children and I must have looked a little strange when we lived in Lutherville, Maryland.
We dressed modestly, like a prairie family you see on TV.
My five pregnancies were close together and I gave birth at home.
My husband Allan and I homeschooled our children when it was still uncommon to do so.
But our neighbors could not possibly guess my shameful secret: I was trapped in a Christian fundamentalist sect.
I was not allowed to go to the library, to work, to vote in elections or even to take my children to the doctor.
I called my husband ‘My Lord’, was only allowed to wear dresses and was ritually beaten if I ‘crossed the line’.
When we got married, I knew what my husband believed, but I had no idea where it would all lead.
We got married in 1994 and from the beginning it was never really easy for us.
When I married him, I knew what my husband believed, but I had no idea where it would all lead. (Above) Author Tia Levings on her wedding day
He had a fierce temper and would sometimes sit on my head or push me against the wall.
But he always assured me that there was another pastor, church, or Christian self-help book that promised a solution to his anger.
And even though I tiptoed through our house, in between the arguments, I thought we were truly happy.
Then, in 2003, after 10 years of being together, something changed.
I just got home from grocery shopping and while unloading the car I was holding grocery bags in my arms. By doing it all at once it seemed like I bought less.
He was sitting behind the computer, with his back to the door, and was startled when I stepped inside.
My gaze remained fixed on his screen.
There was an image of a hanged woman, tied like a bird, with a gag, blindfolded eyes and completely naked.
“It’s not what you think,” he said.
I put the bags down.
My body felt hollow. ‘He’s not watching porn,’ I thought. ‘What’s going on?’
“It’s art. Don’t worry about it,” he said.
I hoped this was true, blinked my eyes and waited for an explanation.
He pushed back the desk chair and began, “I have to discuss something from our new book.”
He was talking about the work of Doug Wilson, an influential writer, pastor and publisher in Idaho.
My five pregnancies were close together and I gave birth at home. My husband Allan and I homeschooled our children when that was still unusual.
Although I tiptoed around our house, between the arguments, I thought we were truly happy. Then, in 2003, after 10 years together, something changed.
We had purchased his books on marriage at our annual homeschooling conference.
Wilson preached that men were responsible for everything in their home. That included the wife’s expenses, entertainment, weight, rebellion, housekeeping, and receptivity to sex.
And the head of the family would be accountable to God for the behavior of all under his authority.
Virtually everyone we knew in our Reformed Presbyterian and Baptist circles owned these self-published books.
But what did they have to do with bondage porn?
In reality, none of these books preached violence against a husband. But the husbands were exchanging sick ideas in the same way that we wives exchange recipes.
“Oh come on,” my husband said as he nonchalantly unpacked the bags. “Correcting women for bad behavior isn’t exactly a new concept. Think about it.”
I didn’t know what idea my husband had in mind, but I knew I couldn’t say no.
“A husband cannot drag his wife to the elders every time she rebels,” he said. “That is impractical. The solution is Christian discipline.”
I kept my eyes downcast, following his rule of not provoking him. I picked up the broom and swept the squares of golden sunlight onto the wooden floor.
As I tried to quiet the noise in my head, my eyes darted to the door.
He told me there was no end point to his dominion or my submission. This was church-sanctioned BDSM – no safe word.
For the next few weeks I sat at the computer and obeyed his command to learn more about Taken In Hand. He directed me to member forums and even a handbook on the subject.
My children and I must have looked a little strange living in Lutherville, Maryland. We dressed modestly, like a prairie family you might see on TV.
According to these teachings, a man like my husband was supposed to control his anger—and Christian domestic discipline promised to end indiscriminate violence by sanctifying kinky behavior with Christian theology.
Hitting me became sacred.
Twisted thoughts clouded my mind: What if there was wisdom in making “agreements” for violence? What if this would make our marriage better?
But I still wondered how much more humiliation I could take.
“I want you to write the contract today,” he said a few days later, referring to a supposed agreement that women were expected to sign.
Steve from Blue’s Clues was playing on the TV, entertaining the kids as he talked. I listened, not slowing down the motion of my mop.
“There’s a script on the online forum,” he said.
“Can’t you print it?” I asked. Sometimes he gave up ideas if they required extra effort.
“No, it has to be your handwriting so it looks like it came from you.”
So I sat at my desk and wrote on ivory-colored stationery, in black ink that smelled of plastic, a promise I didn’t mean: “I will not accuse my husband of domestic violence because of Christian discipline.”
Allan warned me that we would do it soon, ‘over something small, to get used to it.’
A week later I was standing in the kitchen, sliding a metal spatula under the fresh cookies to glaze them together with the children.
“You spent too much,” he said as he looked at the grocery store receipt.
“Only a dollar eighteen,” I whined.
“Go to our room,” he replied.
The children were playing outside and he gestured for me to get on my hands and knees on the bed and then he started praying.
His leather belt hissed as he removed it.
I buried my face in the pillow as he hit me, screaming softly into the down.
As a Christian, I believed that I would be delivered from my suffering.
Years later I realized that there would be no savior.
It was up to me to save myself.
In October 2007, Tia and her children finally escaped from Alan in the middle of the night. She now works to expose the slavery, rape, child abuse and other abuses that take place behind closed doors in fundamentalist Christian patriarchies.
The above is an adaptation of an excerpt from: A Well-Trained Wife: My Escape from Christian Patriarchy by Tia Levings and published by St Martin’s Press