Category Archives: MYSAAY

MYSAAY

We need you in the Movement to End Sexual Violence

Since 2005, Trace Fleming has been actively involved as an advocate against sexual violence.  In more recent years, she has been an active proponent for the vicarious trauma mitigation and self-care. Trace has served as President of the Board of Directors for the Alabama Coalition Against Rape (ACAR) as well as various other roles on the Executive, Public Relations, Legislative, and Membership Committees. Trace created the successful Self-Care for Advocates, a vicarious trauma and burnout support group for anti-violence advocates on Facebook and is responsible for its moderation. She is a founding member and holds the position of Community Leader of the longest running feminist organization at Jacksonville State University, Women’s Issues, Support and Empowerment (WISE) and was a partner in the creation of the WISE Legacy Scholarship. Trace has served as a member of the National Take Back the Night Foundation Advisory Board, has been recognized as an Emerging Southern Leader by the Emerging Change Makers Network and has been featured on the international anti-violence against women website, the Pixel Project.  Currently, Trace is the Sexual Violence Program Director at 2nd Chance, Inc. in Anniston, Alabama.

This was originally written in 2016- but since anti-violence advocacy work is an art and a practice, I’ve updated it to include a few more thoughts and insights that I’ve learned along the way during the past year.

If Brock Turner’s rape of a woman, his subsequent pathetic prison sentence, and his father’s callous and terrible response have pissed you off, enraged you, horrified you- GOOD. If you’ve been sickened by the Bill Cosby defense team and his mistrial- even though 60 women have come forward to accuse him- GOOD. If President Trump’s continued displays of toxic masculinity and misogyny fill you with a need to do- something… GOOD.

They should. It is way past time for these types acts of aggression stop. Each one of us can be a part of working towards a better community for survivors of sexual violence, our children, and ourselves. Knowing where to start can really feel overwhelming, so here are some immediate ways, in no particular order, to help you get into the anti-sexual violence movement:

  1. Look up your local rape crisis program, call them, and ask if you can have a meeting with an advocate to discuss volunteer possibilities. When you meet, really listen. You may have some great ideas or services that you can offer and they may fit into what the advocates already have in motion- but they may not. It is not personal if they say no to your idea. They may not have the capacity to bring your idea to fruition. Do at least one of the things that the advocate says that they need done. I promise it will make a world of difference.
  2. Like your local rape crisis center’s Facebook page. Follow them on Twitter or Instagram. These are some of the fastest ways to connect with us. Share our posts. Comment on them. Doing this boosts our signal- it also shows those in your network that you care about sexual violence survivors and ending sexual violence in your community.
  3. Start looking at  feminist websites that encourage intersectional feminist approaches (Everyday Feminism and the National Sexual Violence Resource Center are good places to begin) and start educating yourself as much as possible about sexual violence and its root cause: oppression. Learn everything that you can about white supremacy, privilege, patriarchy, and the anti-oppression work that historically has been done by People of Color and get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Growth comes from being challenged. Defensiveness often comes from fear. Remember also that intent is less than impact. When you have questions- and you will have them- remember that it’s best to do as much homework as you can about the subject before you ask a member of a marginalized population. Keep in mind too, that they may not be interested in helping you in this area of your growth and development and that’s perfectly ok! If the person is willing to talk to you over lunch or coffee or what-have-you, be sure that you really listen to their experience (that’s why you’re there), be respectful, non-combative (your emotional work shouldn’t be heavy lifting for anyone else), and don’t forget to pay for their coffee, lunch, or whatnot. You are paying for an educational experience and someone else’s time.
  4. Show up to your local rape crisis center events whenever you can. Bring your partner(s) and your kids; bring your church family, your neighbors, your co-workers… Bring as many folks as you can. You will never know how much that will mean to the survivors who are there to see their community supporting them and to the advocates who work with them, it’s a pretty big deal too.
  5. Send money. Seriously, sometimes a few hundred dollars can mean the difference between the lights and phones being on and a program being able to be there another night. Plus, every little bit you send can be used for most programs as an “in kind donation” for matching grant funds. Also, sometimes unrestricted funds can be helpful for the odd things that come up- like a tank of gas for a survivor to get to work that week or to purchase supplies for a support group.
  6. If you can’t send money, but can offer a service like a free yoga class or another healing arts activity do so. Things like gift cards to get a free hair cut for a survivor that could be really helpful. Movie tickets, gift cards from various stores, art supplies, computer paper, tote bags, and brand new gender neutral clothing can be great donations too. Most rape crisis programs have a list of items or services that their clients have let them know that they need. If you have a question about the list- please give them a call.
  7. Ask an advocate from your local rape crisis center to come to your work, church, sewing circle, wherever! We will go pretty much anywhere that we are asked to go. Gather up people you know and have us over in your back yard to hear about the dynamics of sexual violence and about what can be done in our communities. Ask us for our brochures and handout materials and think about where you could put them for us. Keep a few of our business cards handy in your car or wallet.
  8. If you see something- SAY SOMETHING. It takes a village. We have to be our brother and sister’s keeper. IT IS YOUR BUSINESS. Something doesn’t feel right to you, check in on that situation. If it doesn’t feel safe to do that, if you can, call the police- or call your local program and an advocate can call the police for you.
  9. Talk to the kids in your life. Every day talk to them about how you love them, how they can come to you about anything because you will always, always, always believe them. Talk to them about empathy, respect, consent, about how people need to be valued, no matter what, because they are human beings. Keep talking. Talk to your boys so that they know that being a “real man” has absolutely nothing to do with taking power from others or using violence. Tell them that real strength comes from what you build- not by what you can tear down.
  10. Demand more from our elected officials. WAY too often, sentences like those handed down to Brock Turner are pathetically light. Demand that there be reviews of our criminal codes by legislators, advocates, law enforcement, survivors, prosecutors and judges. Demand that changes be made. Demand that our elected officials actively support legislation like the Reauthorized Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) and the Victims of Crime Act (VOCA)- because sexual violence is not a partisan issue. Tell your elected officials who say harmful and uneducated things about rape and gender based violence that you want them to have meetings with local and national sexual violence advocates so that they can have a better understanding of what the facts and realities are about these issues. Changing laws can take time- but don’t stop till things *are* changed.
  11. When you hear someone telling a rape joke or saying something misogynistic, racist, homophobic, or transphobic- speak up about it. Ask them to explain exactly why they think that something that is so harmful is funny. We especially need men and White people to do this. It can be scary to speak up and challenge someone else, but remember that allyship must be active and on-going. It does not have to be perfect. Accept the fact that you will make mistakes. When you do, apologize if you need to and do better the next time.
  12. Believe survivors. Their accounts are real. Stop Monday-Morning Quarterbacking. Don’t ask about what they were wearing; where they were or what they did, or what you would have done in their place. You weren’t there. Tell them that you believe them and that you are so damn sorry for what happened to them. Tell them that NOTHING that happened to them is their fault. They weren’t the ones who did something wrong. Ask them if there is any way that you can support them, any way you can help. Respect what they say. Do as they ask to the best of your ability. If you hear of a situation from the media- speak out about how you believe the survivor and how you hate what happened to them. You never know who is listening and what impact that will have towards someone disclosing to you about what happened to them.
  13. Additionally, because I’m on a roll- men, LISTEN to women. Ask a question, and then really, truly listen- without interrupting, without offering solutions, without telling us what you think women should do. Just listen. This is a critical step- and you will be really surprised by what you hear.

There’s so much more- but this is a really good start. Please. Help us stop this epidemic. We really need you.

 

2nd Chance News You Can Use, MYSAAY, Sexual Assault Awareness

Becoming a Warrior for Medical Care (and Self Care) after Sexual Violence Trauma

 

Jeannie is a sexual violence program advocate at 2nd Chance. She likes boots, her truck, Pokemon hunting, candy, and has a fierce determination to help those who have been victimized transition into warriors.

 

Note from Jeannie: So, I haven’t written a blog since, like MySpace.   Good luck to me and here’s to hoping I don’t use obnoxious amounts of bad grammar.

 

Becoming a Warrior for Medical Care (and Self Care) after Sexual Violence Trauma

I refer to myself as a girl with a hard backstory. In a movie you sometimes need the backstory. Maybe in this blog you need some backstory. If it traumatizes you to read about someone else’s hard back story please scroll past the next section.

Trigger warning: Sexual Violence, I hate when trigger warnings have triggers in them! Will someone please fix that?

At age three, I began experiencing sexual violence perpetrated by my biological father. The violence escalated until it became rape and sodomy. At 13, a friend pushed me to speak up and I became a ward of the courts. I had physical damage that anyone with that a young body that has experienced rape and sodomy would.

In the last few years, I have had to repeat some reconstructive surgeries I had performed in my early twenties. The myriad of tests and medical procedures were overwhelming.

For me, having to be in public in front of others without all of my clothes is traumatic. Going across a hall without a bra in a hospital or doctor’s office is awful. Taking everything off and putting on a gown horrible! I’m not talking about, “Oh, I’m uncomfortable.” I’m talking about my chest clenches, tears threaten a public display, and I sit in a chair or on a table consumed with my physical safety compromised. (You can handle a street fight when you are not worried about not having clothes on.) My head fills with what ifs and “I really, really, really want to be back dressed, safe, layers covering me just in case I need to fight my way out of a bad situation.”

I would hear things like:

“Well, everyone in the room will see you naked once you are asleep…” To which I actually hear, “you will be 110% powerless, and you will be 110% vulnerable, ” and then I’m scared more. Will they try to make things harder because I am not cooperating? You know not quite as gentle with the IV?

“Everyone has a bottom, I see it every day, and I don’t even notice…” Gee thanks, I’m barely holding it together, but it’s no big deal for you, well must be nice…

“I’m a professional, and I am not looking at you as a woman- just a patient. I’m offended that you even feel you can’t have a male nurse, you have a male doctor…” Hey, buddy, it’s not you it’s me, but you may have just been an insensitive jerk. Do me a favor and try helping out with that whole gender equality stuff because I really wanted a female doctor too.

“Nobody can see you. You have a gown on…” Really, because it feels like I’m naked, covered with a thin cheap sheet, my nipples are showing and no, it’s not just nurses here.

“How did you ever have sex to get pregnant if you have this problem?” Well, I had five years of therapy and then married someone who respected my needs in that area, you should try that whole respecting my needs deal.

“When you get far enough into labor, you won’t care.” You bet your sweet rear end I will care. Do me a favor and protect me even when you think I don’t care. I think you just scared me into a C-section because I’ve now been stuck dilated a three for seven hours thanks. I now look like a scared animal who has stopped laboring, jerk.

“It’s not a big deal.” Okay then, you get naked too! Oh, really that’s different, and you can’t work naked in a gown, guess it is a big deal after all.

I’m sure there is more. These things they said, their signs of impatience, all took a toll. In my twenties, I froze and did what I was told. In my forties it dawned on me, I am paying for a service. I came to realize, that though they may have a lot of other patients, I am my only patient, and because of that I want all of my needs met. All of them! I am paying for this, and with insurance, I still am paying you thirteen times what I paid for my last car (I buy really cheap cars last one was $600, but that’s a whole other blog post).

I have a right to dignity and respect. It should be provided without me asking, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that I get it.

Instead of leaving my providers without the backstory (because I want control of that part of me) I started to speak up.

When the nurse asked me, “What meds do you take?”

I replied, “Well, I take Lamictal. I know it’s a bipolar or seizure medication, but I take it because it helps control my PTSD. In fact, let me tell you more; not every minute detail but let me help you understand what and why. I have PTSD because I experienced a severe sexual trauma. It’s been a while, but this is unbelievably hard.”

The nurse looked at me for a moment, but even with my voice shaking a little, I kept on, saying, “Here is what helps me, please keep me covered, as much as possible, as long as possible, leave my advocate with me until you can’t anymore. Approach me in my line of vision, it really helps me. If you don’t and I’m medicated heavily during a procedure, I might become combative. I would never want to hurt you and tying me down for your safety in that situation is reasonable, but it will also to further traumatize me.”

At that point, things changed.

By sharing my backstory and letting them know what I need in these situations, I reclaimed so much control. It’s become a part of my self-care. I became a warrior for myself.

EVERY single person involved in my care did every single this I asked. I was covered, accompanied, allowed to redress to go in public spaces, isolated from other patients’ view and no one’s bored, nosy husband was able to see me or listen in to my care plans. It worked. For someone who has the life experiences I have, it was a win, the scoreboard went from 0-100 me down in the first quarter to me walking off with a total 100-110% because they made a 110% effort to help me.

It happened again when I let know my needs, at the OBGYN’s office, and again at the hospital (with the next five doctors, the next three separate surgeries and four separate wins, every person who walked in gave 100%). I was in control. I got what I asked for and figured out if I didn’t, I was still in control. I am the captain of this ship and I don’t have to pull into any old port. I am a warrior for me. If they don’t appear to be willing to change course, I remind them that I am in control, this is my body, and I choose what I permit them to do. I also let them know that there are other providers.

You should not need to share your sexual violence trauma with anyone if you aren’t ready, but there is power and freedom in taking an active role in your recovery when you can. Your experience is yours. You aren’t obligated to anyone’s rules, directions, attitudes or ignorance. You taking care of you is critical and worth fighting for. I hope you are able to become the warrior you need to be, for yourself.

I believe in you. You are a warrior. It is inside you, you survived the worst. You are stronger than most. You’ve got this!

 

2nd Chance News You Can Use, MYSAAY

Black Survivors

Adisa Salim is the Shelter Director for 2nd Chance, Inc. She is a mother of five sons and grandmother to nine. She is a community activist, author and spoken word artist. 

When I was a little girl, I didn’t have the “sex” talk with my mom. There was no talk of healthy sexuality because the rule in my childhood home was simple, sex was bad, don’t do it. In the 80s and 90s, the message that was most prominent was “just say no” to drugs rather than “no means no” when it came to my body. So, at 16 years old when I found myself being sexually assaulted by a boy I considered a friend. I didn’t tell anyone. I blamed myself for being in a place I shouldn’t have been. I blamed myself for trusting him. I rationalized what happened to me, filed it in the back of my mind and never spoke of it.  Deep down I knew the label that would be given to me if I told what happened. I would become a rape victim. As a teenager, my desire was not to stand out but to simply blend in. I didn’t want to be different. I didn’t want attention. Now as an advocate for victims of sexual assaults, I am happy to have found my voice. Unfortunately, however, my silence is not unique—especially among women of color.

Black women are less likely than White women to report that they’ve been raped. There are mutual reasons that both don’t report rape—a sense of shame, a belief that they were at fault, fear of repercussions. But some reasons are different and based in history. Rape of African-American women goes back to before they reached the Americas. African women that were kidnapped were routinely raped by crew members during the transatlantic voyage. There were few consequences for rapists—regardless of race. In 1859, a Mississippi judge overturned a guilty verdict from a lower court in a case involving two slaves. The victim was less than 10 years old. The judge wrote in his decision: “The crime of rape does not exist in this state between African slaves, because their intercourse is promiscuous.” His ruling reinforced the belief that African-American women are naturally hypersexual beings. That myth endures today.

Given the strained history between the Black community and police, Black survivors may be wary of seeking help from law enforcement. They may feel safer avoiding law enforcement altogether.

There is also the stereotype within the African-American culture that women are to remain strong no matter the circumstance or situation.

Black Survivors who have been assaulted by other Black people may feel a responsibility to protect members of their community, fearing that speaking out will affirm negative stereotypes and criminalize a man of their race. Historically, Black women have carried the burden of fighting for racial justice for Black men, our Black children and our Black sisters. But who fights for us? Who protects us from injustice? Speaking up for Black women when they have been raped IS racial justice in a system that already sexualizes and dehumanizes us.

If a woman chooses to disclose her experience of assault, the environment she finds herself in isn’t always supportive. Our response to an actual occurrence of rape is often damaging enough to keep a woman from pressing  charges and dissuades her from sharing her experience. We ask questions that are loaded like a weapon: What were you wearing? Are you sure this isn’t just your regret talking?

Let’s make sure that if someone is brave enough to disclose that she has been the victim of sexual abuse we don’t add to her suffering. Let’s not re-victimize her with unfair assumptions or victim-blaming questions. Let’s be listeners. Let’s be safe outlets for her hurts and fears.

If you have been a victim of sexual abuse, you are not alone. And whether you have friends and family members you can confide in or not, I encourage you to seek out a professional therapist you feel comfortable with. You have suffered a terrible trauma. Just as a doctor can put a cast on a broken bone, a good therapist can provide a safe space for you to speak up, be heard, receive impartial advice, and heal. Ending the silence around sexual abuse is going to take all of us. Let’s listen instead of labeling. Let’s support instead of second-guessing. Victims need to be cared for, not shamed or shushed. Silence only supports the stigma.