I recently published two editorials in the Utah News Dispatch that speak directly to challenges facing leaders and members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints: “Why Utah Still Can’t Confront Violence Against Women” and “How Utah’s Faith Communities Can Help End Violence Against Women.” Together, these pieces outline both the systemic barriers that keep Utah from addressing this crisis and the unique moral and cultural influence faith communities hold in shifting that reality. Because the Utah News Dispatch operates under a Creative Commons license, these ideas can be freely shared, adapted, and discussed within Church settings. More importantly, they offer insights that can help Latter-day Saints better understand the scope of the problem, recognize the spiritual and communal stakes, and consider how their congregations can become safer, more courageous places for women and families.
Utah’s troubling rates of violence against women have driven me, over several years, to attempt to understand why this crisis persists and what it will take to meaningfully reverse it. I don’t claim to have every answer, but I have developed a deeper understanding of the interconnected factors that — often invisibly — contribute to this violence. One of these factors is the lack of appetite Utahns — both leaders and residents — have to break the silence and face this issue head on.
As you might imagine, the perpetuation of violence is a complex issue that is often ignored in many U.S. states and other counties around the world. Utah is no exception. Violence against women is an uncomfortable topic, and concerns are often swept under the rug. Even though this violence is widespread worldwide, it remains one of the most silenced social issues. Several interconnected forces drive that silence in Utah and beyond. I will highlight six:
First, it’s uncomfortable and socially taboo: The United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) notes that gender based violence remains “shrouded in silence” because it is considered uncomfortable and stigmatized to discuss openly. People fear saying the wrong thing, being judged, or confronting painful realities. According to another source, silence becomes a form of self protection — both for individuals who don’t want to disrupt social harmony and for institutions that fear reputational consequences. In many communities, naming the problem feels like an accusation, so people default to avoiding it altogether. This avoidance doesn’t reduce the violence; it simply pushes it further underground.
Second, it challenges existing power structures: Violence against women is rooted in deep power imbalances. Naming the problem forces communities, institutions, and individuals to confront the ways power is misused or protected. That makes people defensive — especially those who benefit from the status quo. One global study highlighted how communities resist acknowledging violence, especially when it challenges cultural or patriarchal norms. When these norms are challenged, leaders and residents frequently deny or minimize the violence, and survivors who speak up face social retaliation for disrupting the expected order.
Third, it hits close to home. Most violence against women is committed by intimate partners or family members, not strangers lurking in dark alleys. Talking about it means acknowledging that the threat isn’t “out there” — it’s inside homes, families, churches, and communities. That proximity makes people shut down. It forces communities to confront the possibility that respected neighbors, leaders, or even relatives may be perpetrators. Research from a “Women in the States” report further shows that intimate partner violence cuts across every demographic group, reinforcing that no community is exempt. When the danger is this close, denial becomes a coping mechanism, and silence becomes a way to preserve the illusion of safety.
Fourth, people underestimate the scale of the problem. The UNDP highlights that even highly informed young people often don’t know basic facts about gender based violence or global campaigns to address it. This is true in Utah. When people don’t see the scope, they don’t feel urgency. This lack of awareness is reinforced by the fact that gender based violence is chronically under measured, making the true scale difficult for the public to grasp. A 2025 scholarly review on the topic found that inconsistent data collection and narrow definitions of gender based violence lead to widespread underestimation of its prevalence, especially in institutional and community settings. Without accurate data, communities underestimate both the magnitude and the urgency of the crisis.
Fifth, cultural norms discourage speaking up. In many places — including Utah — cultural expectations around modesty, obedience, forgiveness, or family unity can discourage women from reporting violence and discourage communities from acknowledging it. A research synthesis found that social norms — especially silence, stigma, and normalization of abuse — are among the strongest barriers to community recognition of violence. Violence is often treated as a private matter rather than a collective concern, which reinforces the idea that speaking up is disloyal or disruptive. These norms don’t just suppress reporting; they actively shape how communities respond, often prioritizing reputation, harmony, or religious ideals over women’s safety.
Sixth, systems are not designed to respond well — and that leaves people feeling powerless. When survivors see that institutions fail to protect them, they learn that speaking up is risky. When bystanders see that institutions fail to hold perpetrators accountable, they learn that speaking up is futile. Even when laws exist, social norms and community resistance make it difficult to enforce protections or talk openly about violence. Communities often ignore or circumvent these laws because of entrenched gender norms, leaving activists to fight uphill battles just to get authorities and leaders to take violence against women seriously. Faced with such systemic failure, many people feel powerless; they avoid the topic because they don’t know what to do or fear that nothing they do will matter. Silence becomes the default.
The bottom-line is this: We owe women and girls more than quiet concern — we owe them action. That means speaking honestly, challenging harmful norms, and insisting that our systems protect those they were built to serve. Utah can do better, but only if we decide that silence is no longer an option.
Yet, as mentioned, conversations about violence against women remain uncomfortable, and concerns are often minimized or quietly dismissed. I believe members of the Church often so not know what they can do, so I also offer six ways we can not only break the silence within our religious congregations, but also build practices that protect, empower, and uplift every member of our faith communities.
First, silence often persists because people lack the language — or the permission — to speak. We can change that by normalizing conversations about safety and dignity. Simple statements such as “violence has no place in our faith community” or “our tradition calls us to protect the vulnerable” set a powerful tone. Incorporating discussions of healthy relationships, boundaries, and consent into talks, classes, and small groups helps create a culture where people feel less isolated and more willing to come forward. Sharing research or anonymized stories can further illuminate the reality that abuse exists in every community, including religious ones.
Second, we can reframe this issue as a matter of faith, not politics. Many survivors remain silent because they fear being labeled “divisive.” Grounding the conversation in shared spiritual values — human dignity, compassion, accountability, protection of the vulnerable, and truth telling — helps shift the frame. When the message becomes “this is who we are as a people of faith,” resistance softens and space for honest dialogue expands.
Third, congregations can bring in outside voices. Sometimes the most effective way to break silence is to let someone else name the hard truths. Inviting experts from organizations such as the Utah Domestic Violence Coalition, the Utah Coalition Against Sexual Assault, or local shelters and advocacy programs can provide clarity and credibility. Hosting panels with therapists, advocates, or legal professionals, and sharing resources from national faith based anti violence groups, signals that the congregation takes the issue seriously and that help exists beyond its walls.
Fourth, we can gently but firmly challenge harmful interpretations. Many faith settings unintentionally reinforce silence through teachings about forgiveness, obedience, suffering, marriage roles, or “keeping the family together.” Offering alternative interpretations rooted in safety, justice, and the inherent worth of every person does not undermine faith — it strengthens it. For Latter day Saints, the recently published book by Deseret Book, “Healing after Sexual Abuse,” offers thoughtful guidance on these and other themes.
Fifth, we can create visible, trusted pathways for disclosure. Silence thrives when people don’t know where to turn — or when they fear they’ll be dismissed if they try. Congregations can ensure that clergy and lay leaders (including women) receive basic training on how to respond to disclosures of harm. They can also identify trauma informed individuals within the congregation who can serve as safe points of contact. In congregations with lay leadership, a member can be invited or called to map and maintain awareness of local resources and support services. When women know there is a safe door to walk through, they are far more likely to speak.
And sixth, we can elevate women’s voices and leadership. Silence weakens when women are visible, central, and empowered. Faith communities can invite women to teach, speak, and lead discussions on safety and justice; create women led, gender specific listening circles or support groups; and ensure that decision making bodies include women with real authority — not symbolic roles. Representation must be substantive, not cosmetic. When women’s perspectives shape the culture, harmful dynamics — including violence against women and children — are more likely to be recognized early and addressed effectively.
Breaking the silence about violence against women is not optional — it is a moral and spiritual responsibility. Faith communities can either reinforce silence or help dismantle it, and that choice directly affects the safety and dignity of women, children, and families (that includes men too). Change does not require perfection, only willingness: the willingness to speak honestly, to listen without judgment, to challenge harmful norms, and to build policies and structures that protect rather than endanger. By choosing courage over comfort, churches and congregations can become places where truth is welcomed, healing is possible, and silence no longer has the final word.
Full Citation for this Article: Madsen, Susan R. (2026) "Why Utah Must Break Its Silence on Violence Against Women—and How Faith Communities Can Lead the Way," SquareTwo, Vol. 19 No. 1 (Spring 2026), http://squaretwo.org/Sq2ArticleMadsenUtahViolence.html, accessed <give access date>.
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