I used to believe that intelligence, status, and public service were signs of integrity. I thought that someone who worked in diplomacy, education, and humanitarian aid — who spoke of justice and equity — must be a good man at heart.
I was wrong.
What I experienced with Joel Benjamin Runnels, PhD was not confusion, or a misunderstanding, or a “troubled man finding himself.”
It was emotional abuse hidden beneath charm, prestige, and global credentials.
This is not a revenge story.
It’s a truth-telling.
And truth has no expiration date.
The Mask of Goodness
Joel introduced himself as a global citizen — a U.S. diplomat, a Fulbright scholar, and someone passionate about serving others. He was articulate, soft-spoken, and intentional with his words. He spoke of justice, international development, and advocacy for vulnerable communities. I met him when he was working abroad at Uzbekistan, once again immersed in the life of an expat — admired, trusted, and respected.
He knew how to speak about ethics and healing. He knew how to craft the image of a man who had “been through a lot” but was working on becoming better. He spoke of love like poetry — emotionally fluent, sensitive, deep.
But underneath the words was a man who carefully managed his image while playing with hearts.
A Familiar Pattern, Repeated
It didn’t take long before inconsistencies began to surface. At first, they were small. An unanswered message. A vague story. A sudden withdrawal after emotional closeness.
Then the patterns revealed themselves:
- Withholding the truth about his real relationship status
- Gaslighting when questioned
- Creating intimacy only to withhold commitment
- Disappearing, reappearing, and rewriting the narrative
Later, I learned this wasn’t new.
He had done it in Jamaica, where he had a child with ex partner and left her hanging during her pregnancy.
Then again in Kenya, Ghana, and Uzbekistan— each time, forming relationships with women under false pretenses, manipulating emotions, and then exiting without closure or accountability.
He would move countries like changing outfits. Each place, a clean slate. Each woman, another chapter he thought he could rewrite.
Troubled vs. Toxic: Know the Difference
We must stop romanticizing emotionally damaging behavior.
A troubled man seeks healing, apologizes when he causes harm, and does the work.
A toxic man hides behind stories of trauma to avoid accountability. He uses empathy to bait trust and power to avoid consequence.
Joel wasn’t unaware.
He was strategic.
He used his role at USAID and the U.S. Embassy to gain unearned trust. He used his Fulbright scholarship as a badge of credibility. He used his words — “I care about you,” “I’m just overwhelmed,” “You’re important to me” — to keep me close enough to be confused, but far enough to never be truly seen.
That isn’t confusion. That’s control.
Just a Few Months — But Enough
Some might say, “You were only with him for a short time. Why speak out?”
Because even a few months with a toxic person can dismantle your sense of self.
Because patterns matter more than duration.
Because silence only protects the abuser, not the truth.
I thank God he showed me who he really was early on — so I didn’t waste more time waiting for clarity that would never come.
So I could walk away and rebuild my life.
So I could learn to trust my instincts again.
I don’t care what position he holds now.
He is currently the Legislative Affairs Director at the Minnesota Council on Disability — representing vulnerable communities while never owning the harm he’s caused to women in private.
It is not cruel to ask whether someone who serially manipulates others should be in a role rooted in advocacy and integrity.
It is necessary.
Speaking the Truth, So Others Don’t Suffer in Silence
If you’re reading this and feel triggered, it’s okay.
If you’ve been in a similar relationship — short or long — and still carry the confusion, the guilt, or the ache of being discarded without closure, know this:
You are not crazy.
You are not dramatic.
You were manipulated.
These men do not look like villains. They look like professors. Diplomats. Humanitarians.
They are educated, eloquent, and often praised.
But beneath the polished exterior is a cycle of harm that leaves emotional wreckage behind them — women doubting their worth, questioning their memories, and blaming themselves for the pain someone else caused.
This Time, I Choose Me
I am not writing this to destroy someone.
I am writing this because silence nearly destroyed me.
And I know there are others out there — in Jamaica, in Kenya, in Ghana, in Uzbekistan — who may never tell their stories.
But I will.
I will speak so this cycle ends.
I will speak so that institutions stop hiring people based on credentials alone.
I will speak because when good women stay silent, toxic men thrive.
A Message to the Next Woman
If you meet a man like this — powerful, passionate, emotionally fluent, and admired — but your gut tells you something’s off, listen to it.
If he tells you he’s healing, but all he does is hurt you — walk away.
If he disappears and reappears with excuses, don’t accept them.
If he says you’re “too intense,” “too emotional,” or “too much,” he’s just trying to shrink you.
You are not too much.
He was simply too dishonest to handle real intimacy.
The Power of Naming
Joel Benjamin Runnels, PhD, built a life on appearances.
But the truth is catching up.
Not to ruin him — but to stop the harm before another woman gets pulled into the same script.
I may have only been part of his story for a short time,
But that’s all it took for me to say:
Enough.
To the institutions who continue to promote men like this:
Your mission means nothing without accountability.
Your silence is complicity.
To survivors like me:
You are not alone.
Your voice matters.
And no matter how short the story — you deserve closure, clarity, and truth.
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