Forgiveness Is Not Reconciliation

People often confuse forgiveness with reconciliation. The two are not the same. To forgive, in its purest sense, is to release yourself from the burden of revenge or the pursuit of retribution. It is not about erasing the pain, excusing the wrong, or forcing yourself to feel warmth toward the person who harmed you. Forgiveness can exist without reconciliation, because reconciliation requires mutual effort, acknowledgment, and genuine accountability—things many people are simply unwilling to offer.

I’ve lived this distinction.

Take the case of Rita Zaied, the crown prosecutor in the murder trial that sent me to prison. I eventually got that conviction overturned on appeal. She wasn’t pleased. In fact, she went so far as to lie to have me arrested a year after I was released. The charges were dropped, but the abuse of power was clear. Rita has since passed away, and even in death, I cannot forgive her. She never admitted her wrongdoing, and reconciliation was never an option.

The same goes for the family of my firstborn child. While I was in prison, all I wanted was to maintain a connection with my daughter, Tatiana. Instead, her mother and grandmother actively cut me off. When I came home, I learned just how deep the manipulation and alienation went. If the grandmother had been a man, I might have confronted her physically. She too has passed on, and like Rita, I will never forgive her. As for my daughter’s mother, she still refuses to acknowledge the harm she caused, and without that accountability, forgiveness is out of the question.

And then there’s my father. Growing up, I was beaten excessively—one time so badly that a neighbor called the police, leading to my temporary removal from home and my father’s arrest. As an adult, I tried to have a heart-to-heart with him, hoping for some explanation, some recognition of the pain he caused. Instead, I was met with silence and denial. That door closed, and with it, any hope for forgiveness.

Forgiveness, at its core, is about freeing yourself from the destructive loop of retaliation. It doesn’t require you to forget, and it certainly doesn’t require reconciliation. Some wounds are too deep, especially when those responsible refuse to acknowledge or atone for their actions.

So no—I do not forgive everyone. And I do not feel obligated to. "If betrayal could be forgiven, the devil would be sitting beside God."

Because forgiveness is not a performance for others. It’s a choice rooted in truth, boundaries, and self-preservation.