To me growing up, Cesar Chevaz was considered a saint and an icon for justice. He was a beloved activist for the poor and most vulnerable. However, like many heroes who are fathers, uncles, pastors or revered politicians with the access to power and adulation, there can be a powerful and insidious shadow side to their greatness. They are considered and revered as protectors to women and to children. Yet in their own family, religious community, political or religious spheres, they abuse and mistreat those closest to them and expect loyalty to the secrets of their violations. But for many survivors, the unbearable reality of their abuse collides with the myth, the narrative of the hero.¹

People in every corner of society, no matter how virtuous they may seem, can be capable of committing unimaginable cruelty and justifying it to themselves and perhaps to those they violate. So many survivors have had to live for years or a lifetime with a secret that they fear will ruin their family, religious community—or a powerful political movement. But no survivor should have to bear the burden of the secret of their abuse no matter how beloved their perpetrators are.