Facts & Hope
Every 98 seconds, someone in the US is sexually assaulted.
44% are under the age of 18.
80% are under the age of 30.
Many are older adults…
1 in 4 are women.
1 in 6 are men—these are the conservative statistics.
1 in 2 transgender or non-binary individuals are assaulted or abused at some point in their lives.
At least 60% of women of color are abused at some point in their lives.
Men of color rarely ever report at all.
1 in 2 Native American are abused, 90% outside their tribal communities.
Over 1 million women are currently imprisoned or under the control of the US criminal justice system.
According to the ACLU, “women are the fastest growing segment of the incarcerated population increasing at nearly double the rate of men since 1985. Male prisoners are targeted for sexual assault the moment they enter a penal facility: their age, looks, sexual orientation, and other characteristics mark them as candidates for abuse.
The disability community experiences one of the highest rates of sexual assault in America.
This community is hardly included in conversations around sexual violence and statistics are often underreported.
In church, in harboring immigrant communities, in the military, sports, the arts, the work place, academics; in churches, temples, mosques and spiritual communities; in prisons, doctor and therapist’s offices—women and men experience rape, war, oppression, exploitation, racist acts, trafficking, ritual abuse—in the intimacy of family—by men and by women—there is no sexual orientation, class or gender exemption for perpetration.
Sexual abuse is only one of the many kinds of trauma we may experience or witness in a lifetime. Perhaps we do not have the words or the safety for our experience—or are not ready to speak of them in our family, church, or the community we live in. Maybe the perpetrator of harm IS someone in our family, our church, or someone we idealized which makes our situation confusing especially if we idolized that person, or they were inconsistent in their care, or if they were our only source of comfort.
The truth of all of this is difficult to digest, sometimes it can be life threatening.
The burden of it sits on the chest, in the stomach, in the eyes, in the most intimate of spaces—or perhaps everywhere—for decades.
And, it can take years to connect the dots.
Details can be complicated—but the body remembers.
We do not have to recollect exactly what or when it happened or even who did it. Sometimes the migraines, asthma, arthritis, fibromyalgia, multiple sclerosis, the flashbacks or nightmares, panic attacks or dissociation, in sex itself–that reveal in fragments what happened long ago, or what is still happening.
For a survivor, memory is an especially tricky thing. Sexual abuse messes with brain circuitry. It can leave traces of feelings—not necessarily the pictures—INSIDE—like shards of broken glass.
For an adult survivor, sexual assault or coercion can be significantly complicated for other reasons—with dating, in the marriage bed, in work, in military or in war, with a pastor or a therapist, with a stranger—or someone in the family—someone so close.
When a woman, a man, or a trans individual is raped, for instance, the aftermath is devastating, especially if they do not or cannot receive immediate medical and emotional support. It is not always safe to come forward.
Maybe one was drugged or drunk when it took place—maybe the details are fuzzy. Sometimes individuals enjoyed or felt pleasure or…love—during the abuse which makes things even more confusing, more damning.
The injuries of assault are rarely only sexual.
Sometimes we fear retaliation, the stigma of coming forward in our community, or that we will be a target. We might even fear ourselves—feeling that we could repeat with others what has been done to us.
Then there’s that abiding sense of shame—the feeling of ugliness or worthlessness—perhaps the sense that WE are the damaged goods—that somehow WE are bad, not worth whatever good that life could bring. Sexual experimentation can sometimes be a reenactment of exploitation. It is often complicated to parse the lines between pleasure and freedom with old programs of self sabotage. We may no longer have a clear notion of boundaries, personal space, what real safety means, or our own needs. We might even sabotage or push away any meaningful connection. We might use our trauma as an excuse for our bad behavior or how we manipulate others. Until we reckon with how we are in the present, we remain stuck in the past as victim.
We may blame ourselves. We might buy into the lies we’ve been told by those who have abused us, or those who blamed or did not believe us. Or maybe we just replay our abuse over and over again. Some compulsively surf the internet to cope with overwhelming feelings; some might mutilate themselves, act out sexually, or never even engage with anyone in an intimate way.
Sometimes we isolate, overeat, starve, cut, drink, take drugs—we may carry layers and layers of clothes or fat, or wear barely anything at all as a reaction to what has happened.
Sometimes we just shut down or try to opt out of life altogether.
We may not recognize any other way of being than this.
Can we ever trust anyone again? Can we ever trust ourselves again, and honor the part of us that lived through these events?
How can we heal?
How do we set ourselves free?
There is Hope
Recovery is a deep life journey—a profound reworking of the brain and the heart.
It requires new ways of being in relationship, unbinding old embedded programs of self-hatred or self-doubt brought on by trauma.
It takes time.
We heal in many ways: in that safety, for sure—in love and different kinds of friendships, perhaps in art, in music and or in dance, in the gifts of spoken word—in our courage to speak up.
We heal by laughter and those grace filled moments of joy, by being free enough to be ourselves in a safe space.
We heal in good sound therapy; and in all the ways that we mend our bodies and our spirits. We heal when we realize that we matter, when we are truly seen and when we are believed.
It means forging a process of trust where we can be held and sustained. It also means finding a link between the part of us that is still deep in the trauma. The past—may have no words or even memory—only feelings—it needs to connect with NOW, the present part that notices with some kind of compassion, or at least respect, and says, what was that child, or the rebellious kid supposed to do in that situation?
We lurch back and forth in these new experiments of some kind of authentic connection and risk, both with others and within ourselves. And we need to test these unfamiliar experiences again and again. At first what is safe won’t necessarily be comfortable. We might even sabotage feeling better.
I repeat
It takes time…
We heal in community.
We want to say that there IS a way out and a way in.
You are not alone.
We are in this together.