What Kind of Father Are You, Joel Runnels, PhD?

 

This is not a smear campaign. This is not revenge. This is not bitterness dressed as a blog post. This is a reckoning — a long-overdue moment of truth that refuses to stay silent any longer. I’ve rewritten this a hundred times in my head, tried to keep it diplomatic, balanced, fair — just like you taught me to speak, Joel. You, the diplomat. You, the man with perfect posture and practiced charm, who knows how to say all the right things about justice and healing, even as you leave behind an invisible trail of heartbreak, confusion, and erasure. This time, I will speak my way. Fully. Honestly. Loudly.

Let’s begin with the present. With Minnesota. With the current you — Joel Benjamin Runnels, PhD, Legislative Affairs Director at the Minnesota Council on Disability, a man reportedly considering a run for Senate. A man who speaks on equity, who attends diversity forums, who has built his image on being a protector of marginalized voices. A man who tells people he is spiritual, sensitive, trauma-informed. Who peppers his sentences with phrases like “emotional attunement” and “lived experience.” Who posts about justice on social media while simultaneously dating 5 to 6 women at once — women who don’t know about each other, who are fed half-truths, who are discarded the moment they grow attached. And see what you told before, and as usual avoidance when you got caught.

Now, let’s rewind. Not to your résumé — which the world already knows — but to the private moments the world never sees. The ones women like me collect like bruises under long sleeves. The ones we spend months untangling after you’ve moved on. In Jamaica, in Ghana, in Kenya, in Uzbekistan, and now in the U.S., the pattern is consistent: You initiate connection with emotional vulnerability. You claim to be separated from your wife or “going through things.” You talk about therapy. You ask deep questions. You create intimacy through shared pain. You give just enough consistency to build emotional dependence. And then, when the woman begins to feel real attachment — when she begins to trust — you vanish. You fade. You ghost. No confrontation, no explanation. Just silence.

That silence is not empty. It echoes.

I know that echo well. I heard it before, you disappeared from my life. One day you were there, talking about commitment, intimacy, values. The next day, you were gone. And when I tried to reach out, all I received was cold detachment, then nothing. And what did you tell others? That I was unstable. That I was fake. That I was the problem. That I was “crazy.” The same script you’ve likely used before — one that casts you as the calm, rational victim of yet another emotionally volatile woman. How convenient. How predictable.

But here’s the thing, Joel — I’m not unstable. I’m not fake. I’m not crazy. I am a woman who loved you. I am a woman who saw something beautiful in your brokenness. I am a woman who listened to your stories about childhood, trauma, diplomacy, and dreams. I am a woman who believed in you. And you used that belief to your advantage, until it no longer served you. Then, you did what you always do — you disappeared.

This isn’t just my story. This is the story of so many women you’ve left in silence. When we started comparing experiences, we realized: the script was the same. You used different names, different timelines, different cities — but the emotional choreography was identical. You seduced us with softness. You drew us in with intellect. You hooked us with the illusion of depth and decency. And when it became too real, too inconvenient, you erased us. Quietly. Thoroughly. Without remorse.

What kind of man does that?

What kind of father does that?

Because you are a father. You have a daughter and two sons. And possibly others two child in Jamaica whom you’ve never acknowledged. You are raising children who will one day ask, “What kind of man is my father?” And what will your answer be? That you stood for justice? That you fought for disability rights? That you knew all the right words about empathy — but none of the actions? What will you say when your daughter asks if you treated women with respect? When your sons learn that their father had a PhD in policy but failed at the most basic form of accountability — telling the truth?

Because this pattern isn’t just unethical. It’s abusive. It’s psychological warfare dressed in diplomacy. Emotional manipulation wrapped in soft-spoken charm. It’s trauma inflicted through inconsistency, avoidance, and abandonment. It’s trauma compounded when women try to speak — and are called unstable. It’s harm multiplied when institutions protect the predator because he’s polite.

And make no mistake — this is predatory behavior.

It’s not about sex. It’s about control. It’s about building emotional intimacy without intention. It’s about using love as leverage. It’s about treating women like pit stops between diplomatic assignments or political ambitions. It’s about exploiting their softness, then weaponizing it against them.

You might think I’m being dramatic. That this is an overreaction. That it was just a breakup — it happens all the time. But ghosting isn’t just disappearing. When done after emotional grooming, it is a form of emotional abandonment. It triggers anxiety, self-doubt, disassociation, and attachment injury. It activates wounds from childhood. It shatters trust in oneself. And for those of us who have experienced trauma before, it feels like psychological betrayal on a cellular level.

So when you call us crazy, you’re not just being cruel — you’re being cowardly. You’re refusing to own the damage you caused. And you’re teaching your children that when things get hard, men disappear. That when women ask for clarity, men run. That when someone loves you deeply, the correct response is fear and evasion.

What kind of legacy is that?

Let’s talk about legacy for a moment — since you’re now back in the U.S., working in a leadership role, possibly preparing for political office. Let me ask: What kind of leader are you? What kind of public servant deletes public comments from survivors instead of addressing their concerns? What kind of equity advocate dates multiple women in secret while speaking on consent and trauma healing in public? What kind of humanitarian uses his connections and platform to gain romantic access to vulnerable women?

You are not a leader. You are a performer. A man who has learned the script of goodness without ever internalizing it. A man who hides behind credentials and press photos to avoid the messy, necessary work of emotional accountability. A man who thinks charm is a substitute for character.

But here’s what you forget: people remember how you made them feel. And you, Joel, made me feel disposable. You made me feel invisible. You made me question my intuition, my worth, my sanity. And that is something no PhD can erase.

Your children will feel it too — even if you never tell them. Children inherit unspoken wounds. They absorb emotional avoidance. They mimic the dynamics they observe. So if you don’t change, your daughter may one day fall for a man just like you. And your sons may grow into men who think silence is strength and vulnerability is weakness. That intimacy is optional, and commitment is a burden.

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

You still have time.

You can still become the man your children deserve — but only if you stop running. Only if you stop calling women unstable. Only if you stop dating multiple women while pretending you’re a spiritual monogamist. Only if you stop erasing the damage you’ve done and start repairing it.

Because this story — this open letter — is not just about you. It’s about every woman who has ever been ghosted by a man who claimed to be good. It’s about every institution that silences survivors to protect its brand. It’s about every child growing up watching a parent who refuses to grow.

And it’s about me.

I am not writing this to hurt you. I’m writing it to heal myself. To take back the narrative you tried to control. To give voice to the pain you silenced. To warn the next woman who Googles your name and finds only glowing résumés and policy briefs. To let her know: you’re not who you pretend to be.

You may never acknowledge this. You may dismiss it as hysteria. You may continue to date women in secret, to ghost them when they get close, to weaponize their emotions against them. But one day, your children will ask: “What kind of man was my father?” And this, right here, will be part of the answer.

So Joel Runnels, PhD — run for office if you must. Shake hands. Smile for cameras. Use your trauma-informed language. Keep calling women like me unstable. But just know: the truth is catching up. And the version of you that your children will respect is not the one you are now. It’s the one you have yet to become.

Until then, the mask may still work on strangers. But it will never work on those of us who saw the man beneath it.

This isn’t revenge. It’s release.

And from where I stand, I am no longer afraid of your silence.

I am louder than it now.