Ouachita Hills Academy... My Review of a Religious Cult

“It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I will never be silent”

As I sit here reflecting, I am compelled to share a chapter of my life that has left scars on my soul, scars that are not easily seen but eternally felt. When I first arrived at this school, my heart was brimming with love for Jesus, and my only desire was to be a beacon of God's love and kindness in this world. Little did I know that my journey here would be marked by unspeakable abuse, betrayals of trust, and an utter absence of the compassion I believed was inherent in faith.

During my time at this institution, I experienced horrors that still haunt me to this day. I endured abuse – physical, emotional, verbal, and spiritual – at the hands of those who were supposed to guide and protect me. What makes this pain even more profound is the deafening silence that greeted my pleas for help. When I sought refuge from the abuse, I was met with indifference, disbelief, and a chilling lack of advocacy.

I vividly remember an incident where I found myself locked in an office, subjected to verbal assaults, threatened, and shoved by a staff member. Seeking solace from the school's principal, Mrs. Clark, proved to be an exercise in futility. Instead of finding comfort, I was invited to her home, and forced to fold her clothes (including intimate items), while she stood ahead of me and questioned why she should believe the word of a new student over a seasoned staff member. The very person entrusted with my well-being chose to dismiss my cries for help.

As a young teenager (only 15), I was pushed to the brink of exhaustion and placed in situations that no child should ever face. I was sent door-to-door, vulnerable and unprotected, facing the very real threats of harm. The environment fostered a culture of silence, where negative experiences were to be suppressed in favor of promoting the mission. The isolation and control exerted on me left me traumatized and broken.

It has taken years for me to articulate the pain inflicted upon me and even longer to start the healing process. As I reconnect with old classmates, I hear stories of suffering and transformation, each narrative a testament to the deep scars inflicted by this institution. My heart aches as I ponder the question: How can those who claim to teach in the way of Christ justify causing such immense harm to children?

To Mrs. Clark and those complicit in this cycle of abuse, I ask: How do you sleep at night, knowing the countless children who have been hurt, abandoned the church, turned to destructive paths, or even taken their own lives due to the neglect and mistreatment they endured within the walls of this institution? How can you twist your actions into God's will?

As I sit here with heartbroken memories I declare my readiness to heal from the pain you caused. I may not know what I believe in anymore, but I am certain that the day will come when you will face the consequences of your actions – not in the eyes of man, but before the divine judgment of Christ.

For "whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.”

May this testimony serve as a plea for accountability, a call for change, and a beacon of hope for those who, like me, seek solace and healing from the shadows of the past. May other parents read this and think twice before sending their children to this school and may this inspire those who attended this school to speak up so we can stand together to end the abuse.