Indoctrination Part 2: When Gender Roles Become Gospel
How High-Control Religion Shapes Identity Through Scripts of Power, Silence, and Submission
Religious indoctrination isn’t just about beliefs— it’s about roles. Scripts. Expectations. Entire life paths handed to you and declared holy. In high-control religious environments, gender roles are often presented not as cultural constructs, but as divinely ordained mandates.
And when “God says so,” questioning can feel like rebellion. Even when it hurts. Even when it erases you.
This post explores how rigid gender roles are a tool of indoctrination in many religious systems, how they impact your sense of self, and what healing can look like when you begin to unravel them.
How Gender Roles Become Doctrine
In high-control religious environments, gender isn’t simply a biological category; it’s a moral one.
You’re not just told what you are. You’re told who you must be, how you must act, and what your worth is based on. These expectations are often framed as divine truth, rather than manmade tradition.
For women and femmes, this often means being told your highest calling is submission. That your voice is best used in service, not leadership. That your body is a temptation. That your emotions are untrustworthy. That you are “equal in value” but not in role.
For men, the script demands stoicism, spiritual leadership, and emotional control. You are to be providers, protectors, leaders, but only in the ways approved by the institution. Vulnerability, softness, or queerness? Out of bounds.
For queer and nonbinary folks, the message is often erasure. You’re taught that your identity is incompatible with holiness. That your existence is something to fix or silence.
I still remember the first time I was taught what it meant to be a “biblical woman.” Submission wasn’t just suggested; it was expected. I was told my highest calling was to support a husband, raise children, serve quietly, and never seek out leadership positions in the church. I could teach children’s ministry or lead other young women, but I couldn’t preach. Volunteering wasn’t framed as a choice; it was a duty. An offering. I learned early on that being faithful meant being small. Being background. And for a long time, I didn’t question it. Because questioning it meant questioning God.
Over the years, I’ve worked with many clients, especially women, queer folks, and gender-expansive people, who were given similar messages. That to be “godly” meant being quiet, agreeable, and self-sacrificing. That their desires, goals, or voices didn’t matter as much as their willingness to yield, “die to self”, or “deny self”.
BIPOC, Gender, and Respectability
Gender roles in religious settings don’t operate in a vacuum. For BIPOC individuals, especially Black women and femmes, the pressure to perform respectability is often even more intense.
Colonialism and white supremacy have historically used Christianity to enforce specific gender norms. In many communities, being a “good Christian woman” is not just about faith; it’s about survival, safety, and being perceived as worthy of protection.
Respectability politics teach BIPOC women that submission and silence are the price of dignity.
Racialized gender stereotypes (like the Jezebel or the Angry Black Woman) are reinforced through religious expectations around purity, obedience, and emotional control.
Queer BIPOC are often doubly erased, and told their queerness betrays their faith and their culture.
Healing requires naming how these layers of identity and oppression intersect. And honoring the deep courage it takes to exist outside those bounds.
The Shame That Lingers
Leaving a high-control religious system doesn’t automatically untangle these scripts. You might still…
Feel guilty for saying no to volunteering.
Struggle to lead in your workplace or relationships.
Wonder if your desire to parent, or not to parent, makes you selfish or broken.
Flinch when someone calls you “too loud,” “too much,” or “too ambitious.”
Feel shame for your gender expression or sexuality.
That shame? It didn’t start with you. It was passed down in sermons, Bible studies, discipleship programs, marriage counseling sessions. It was enforced with smiles and praise and “godly wisdom.”
It was indoctrination.
You Might Relate If...
You were taught women should submit and men should lead, without exception.
You felt responsible for others’ purity, emotions, or faithfulness.
You were praised for self-sacrifice and shamed for ambition.
You were told your queerness or gender nonconformity was sinful.
You still feel fear when stepping outside the role assigned to you.
If any of this rings true, you’re not alone. These aren’t just personal issues; they’re symptoms of systemic control.
Explore more in the blog Was It Spiritual Abuse?
What Healing Can Look Like
Unlearning religious gender roles is tender work. It means untangling your identity from obligation. It means grieving what you lost while surviving in a system that never fully saw you.
Healing might include:
Naming the script you were handed, and realizing you don’t have to follow it.
Feeling anger about the ways you were silenced or diminished.
Exploring your identity without fear of punishment.
Reclaiming leadership, softness, rest, pleasure, power.
Letting your worth be defined by you. Not by a doctrine.
And above all? Learning that your body, your desires, your voice, your truth, is not a threat. It’s a guide.
Read How Your Story Lives in Your Body
You Don’t Have to Be Who They Told You to Be
The roles you were assigned weren’t sacred. They were strategic. Designed to maintain power, control, and order.
But you? You are sacred. You are allowed to live outside the script. You are allowed to belong to yourself.
This post is Part 2 in a series on religious indoctrination. Stay tuned for upcoming pieces on:
Indoctrination & Cognitive Dissonance
The Shame of Purity Culture
Why Questioning Was Framed as Rebellion
Healing After Identity Suppression in High-Control Systems
Next Steps
If this stirred something in you— grief, relief, clarity— you’re not alone. These realizations are brave. And you don’t have to work through them in isolation.
Whether you're newly deconstructing or years into the process, I offer therapy that honors your body, your story, and your voice.