In Rift: A Memoir of Breaking Away from Christian Patriarchy , Cait West tells a harrowing story of chaos and control hidden beneath the facade of a happy family. Weaving together lyrical meditations on the geology of the places her family lived with her story of spiritual and emotional manipulation as a stay-at-home daughter, Cait creates a stirring portrait of one young woman’s growing awareness that she is experiencing abuse. With the ground shifting beneath her feet, Cait mustered the courage to break free from all she’d ever known and choose a future of her own making.
A remarkable literary debut, Rift offers a personal perspective on the fraught legacy of purity culture and recent reckonings with abuse in Christian communities.
Read below for an exclusive interview with Cait and gain further insight into her upcoming book, Rift.
An Interview with the Author
Cait West
What are five words you would use to describe Rift ?
Lyrical, reflective, jagged, unburying, fierce.
Why did you decide to write your memoir now?
I started to write this book years ago because I felt I needed to. My story was trapped in my body; my voice had been silenced for so long. I wanted to create something out of what felt like devastation. Once I started writing and talking with others about it, I realized that I had a story other people might be interested to read . And as I’ve gone through the whole publishing process, I know now that this is the perfect time for Rift to come out — we are living at an intersection of time when many are dealing with faith deconstruction, the fallout of spiritual abuse and harm in churches, as well as an unpredictable terrain for women’s rights. It’s not just about me anymore.
What challenges did you face while writing?
A big challenge was writing about personal trauma without triggering anxiety and PTSD responses. I learned the hard way that I needed to have a well-rounded support system to write this story and maintain my mental health. But through family, friends, and therapy, I managed to find a balance in order to finish the book.
Another challenge was during the editing phase. Memories of traumatic events often feel fragmented, and my early drafts reflected that. But over time, and with the help of my editor, Lisa Ann Cockrel, I was able to piece together the narrative in an order that would make sense to the reader. You can probably still sense that fragmentation in the shorter chapters and scene breaks, but I think it fits the story I’m telling.
When did you first realize you wanted something different for your life?
I always had dreams, just like any kid. I wanted to be a ballerina , then a horse rancher, then a professional pianist. But I learned early on that these dreams didn’t fit into the life plan I’d been given. I was supposed to be a stay-at-home wife and mother, which meant no career, no dating, no higher education. I suppressed my desires for a long time and conformed to the rules, convincing myself it was for the best. But after a heartbreak from a courtship that ended, and after a few outside people kindly asked me if I really wanted to be a stay-at-home daughter, I started thinking maybe my dreams could become reality.
Why are stories like yours so important to tell?
There are so many people like me who have been oppressed and silenced within religious fundamentalism. I’ve found that many Americans don’t think it happens that often here, but that’s a myth. Our voices just aren’t heard as often. Whether we come from the Christian patriarchy movement, the Independent Fundamental Baptist church, the Institute in Basic Life Principles, or so many other high-control groups, we come from a world where those in authority rule every aspect of our lives, including what we say to the outside world. So as we regain our agency in leaving, it’s important for us to tell our own stories, instead of others telling them for us.
The book weaves together lyrical meditations on geology. What was your purpose behind this?
At first, researching geology was just a practice in incorporating scientific writing into my memoir work. It started with just an essay. But then I discovered how grounding it was to write about nature while working to tell my story about personal trauma. And juxtaposing this big-picture, cosmic view of the world with the personal and particular felt like rich ground for delving into complex ideas, leading me to find my overarching metaphor of “rifting.”Here’s a quote from the beginning of the book:
“I did not notice the fissures or how unstable my footing was until it was too late, until my own life rifted apart. What once seemed solid and unbreakable suddenly split, revealing a crevice where I once stood. The two sides of a rift evolve separately, erode in weather, rebuild themselves until they are nothing like the whole they once formed together. But buried deep, they are made from the same elements, even if they are severed by an ocean.”
What do you want readers to take away from Rift ?
I hope those who have experienced religious trauma and abusive relationships will feel seen. I hope my story resonates so that they are reminded that their stories matter too. And I hope those who haven’t experienced these things will be able to see those who have with compassion and understanding, because we exist everywhere.
How were you able to acclimate to a more “normal” life after escaping your family’s control?
If homeschooling taught me anything, it was self-education. When I left the Christian patriarchy movement, I went to the library to use the internet and research things like how to apply to jobs and college. I read extensively. I took community college classes and worked at the college writing center, where I got to hear stories from people of all different backgrounds . They taught me the world is much bigger than I’d been taught, that “outsiders” could be kind, that I could belong even though I’m different. I don’t believe a “normal” exists, at least for me, but I’m okay with that now.
What are three things about yourself that readers may not know?
I’ve been called an apostate, a heretic, and a witch. But I don’t take it personally.
