I got robbed once. A man pulled a gun on me and snatched my

"I got robbed once. A man pulled a gun on me and snatched my pocketbook in a car. I don't trust men that much any more." These words, spoken by the courageous Marsha P. Johnson, echo with the weight of lived experience. Trust, that fragile bond between souls, is not easily given, nor is it always earned. It is a gift that, once broken, leaves a scar upon the heart—a scar that can alter one’s view of the world. Through her testimony, Johnson imparts a truth that many, perhaps too many, can understand: when trust is violated, it is not just a thing taken from us; it is a piece of our security, our peace of mind, that is stolen.

The history of humanity is filled with stories of betrayal, of trust broken in the most devastating ways. Julius Caesar, that mighty leader of Rome, who once trusted his closest ally, Brutus, was stabbed in the back—not by an enemy, but by someone he considered family. In those final moments, as he looked into Brutus’s eyes, it is said that Caesar, betrayed in the most profound way, uttered the words, “Et tu, Brute?” This betrayal of trust shook Caesar to his core, for trust, once broken, is never fully repaired. Just as Marsha P. Johnson’s encounter with violence shattered her trust in certain men, so too did the betrayal of trust fracture the foundation upon which we build our relationships.

Consider the plight of Helen of Troy, whose beauty sparked a war that would endanger all of Greece. Men, blinded by their passions, made promises and pacts, but it was the breaking of those promises—the betrayal of trust—that led to the ruin of nations. Helen’s story is one of love, betrayal, and the consequences of misplaced trust. Just as Marsha P. Johnson’s painful encounter with violence caused her to question her trust in others, so too did the actions of others in ancient times lead to tragic outcomes.

Trust is the very foundation upon which human relationships are built, yet, like all things, it is fragile. When that trust is violated, the foundation crumbles, and what remains is doubt, fear, and a wariness that can taint every future encounter. Marsha’s words remind us of this fragility, but also of the courage it takes to face the world after trust has been betrayed. In the darkness of doubt, one may seek to protect their heart by closing off to others, by withdrawing from the very thing that once gave life its richness—human connection. Yet, even in this withdrawal, there is strength. To survive betrayal is not merely to endure, but to learn, to grow, and to rise again.

Think of the great Joan of Arc, whose faith in her mission and her trust in those around her led her to victory—but also to betrayal. Once a figure of hope, she was sold out by those who once followed her. And yet, despite the betrayal, Joan rose again in history not as a figure defeated, but as one who became immortal through her unwavering spirit. Marsha P. Johnson, too, teaches us this resilience, showing us that though betrayal leaves its mark, we are not condemned to be forever shackled by it. In our wounds, we may find wisdom, in our loss, we may find strength.

The lesson, then, lies in how we move forward after trust has been broken. It is not enough to live in the shadow of past betrayals, for that will only keep us bound. We must learn to discern where trust is deserved, and where it is not, without closing ourselves off to the possibility of human connection. Marsha’s caution is not a call to reject others, but to guard the sacredness of trust with care. Trust must be earned, and not lightly given. It is through careful, deliberate action that we rebuild the foundation of our relationships, knowing that while we may be hurt, we are also capable of great healing.

Thus, we must learn to balance caution with openness, to forgive when trust is broken, but also to protect our hearts from the violence that may seek to take from us what we hold dear. To trust is to be vulnerable, but to withdraw from the world is to live in isolation. Let us find that balance, and in our own lives, let us walk with wisdom—giving trust only where it is earned, and yet, never forgetting that even in the midst of betrayal, there is strength, and there is the possibility of redemption. The heart may be scarred, but it is never beyond repair.