The Bravery Paradox
This article is a long time coming. I’ve tried to write it a few times over the years but each time I tried, I failed to say what I really wanted to say about it all. But I’m in a different place now. I feel stronger, more resilient, and more willing to accept the negative effects my decision set in motion. I wanted to write this piece because I believe it shows just how powerful words can be — and how words have the power to hurt as much as to heal.
On an April day in 2017, I posted a blog post that changed my life. I often ask myself, if I knew then what I know now, would I still have published it? My gut says, yes. But perhaps I would have written it from a different place... a different emotional state. But I can’t change the past, I can only reckon with the history of my decisions and try to see it from new perspectives.
The Backstory
I published a blog post titled, “I’m Not Ready to Make Nice,” back in 2017. The day my abuser sat in court to be sentenced for his latest conviction. I had been told that I could read my victim impact statement but was then denied that opportunity. I’m sure you’ve heard me talk about this before in many different ways, it was after all, the impetus for writing my novel to heal. I was justifiably upset at the decision the court made to not allow previous convictions or victims to read their statements. Though, upset is not an explosive enough word to describe my emotions at the time. I was not just upset, I was livid. Fury coursed through my veins and I felt helpless in the situation. But if there is one thing I’ve always believed in, even then, it was the power of words. So I did what I knew how to do at the time — weaponize my words.
The “Post”
I wrote the post high on anger and indignation. And you can tell. It was not a blog post that was thoughtfully crafted to explore and self-reflect. It was a blog post designed to do one thing and one thing only — expose my abuser and his allies. To show the world that abusers don’t get to “win” in all the ways. He may have gotten my victim impact statement denied. He may have gotten a lenient sentence that day. But the one thing he couldn’t do was shut me up anymore. I was not going to be silenced. In writing that post, I not only shared my feelings and emotions around the event, but I published “evidence” that I thought solidified my stance. Court documents, a letter he wrote to me, and the sex offender registry listing for him. I pulled out every bit of damaging evidence I could find and published it along with my post. If I’m being super honest right now, I didn’t expect anything to happen. I clicked “publish,” shared it with a few people, and turned my anger toward discussions with my family. I had no idea what would happen next.
The Power of Sharing
Within a few hours of publishing my post, I already had several thousand views and the post on Facebook had been shared over a hundred times. Comments flooded in every few hours. Most of them were in support of what I’d done. Some were not. I think that first day, I was in shock that there were even enough people to care about what I had posted. But it turns out that not only did they care, but they also wanted to help spread the word. Before going to bed that night, I saw that I had 50+ shares of the post from people all over the United States. But the most impactful shares came from the people within the community where my abuser lived. I was not hiding the post or denying it — no, I wanted my abuser and his family to know exactly how I felt. And soon enough, they did. I received some of the nastiest comments I’ve ever endured from his supporters. I was sent awful direct messages and text messages designed to dampen my spirit and shut me up. But I was so furious that it simply added fuel to the fire. The next day, I woke up to even more messages and comments, but it was the private emails that really chilled me to the bone. These emails were from people who read the post but didn’t want to publicly respond. A few of those emails were from some of his previous victims who had never come forward. Some were from victims of sexual abuse by other abusers who thanked me for speaking out.
The Bravery Paradox
In the days following the post, I had more messages and emails from others “thanking” me for saying what I did and I began to feel an immense amount of pressure. I received so many questions about how I “got through it” or “how did I heal?” And those were questions I couldn’t answer at the time. I didn’t believe I was through it and I didn’t believe I had healed. I was “in the muck” with them as much as the next person. I just had the luxury of knowing how to use my words as a microphone. But people were starting to look to me for answers where there were none. I couldn’t tell a victim whether or not they had a chance at bringing their abuser to justice. I couldn’t advise a victim on whether or not they should post their own reckoning. All that “high” energy from posting began to alchemize into something else that I wasn’t prepared for — to be the face of a movement I didn’t even know was happening. At the time of my post — the #metoo movement had already been started, but it wasn’t until later in 2017 that it exploded. And I was thrust into the tidal wave of the movement. My bravery had led to a catharsis of words, but it also pulled me under into a series of situations and events I never intended to happen when I clicked “publish.”
I call this the bravery paradox because you can be both brave and scared shitless at the same time. You can be both brave and cowardly in the way you approach your situation. By the end of 2017, my post and the onslaught of the #metoo movement had solidified my voice as “someone who speaks out” but behind the scenes? My bravery was hanging by a single frayed thread. I was exhausted.
Changes Come With a Price
My post made it possible for others to come forward. Including another family member of mine who was also a victim of my abuser. It allowed survivors to see that silence doesn’t have to be an option. And more than that, my post allowed others to see how using words as a weapon could impact a community, a family, and the public stance on sexual abuse. For that, I feel immense gratitude for my bravery. Helping others find their voice has always been my dream and there I was... actually living it. Making an impact.
But changes always come with a price.
Outside of the supportive and encouraging comments, emails, and messages though, there was a war being waged on my behalf that I had no control over. I learned that my blog post had incited some of the community to threaten my family members. I learned that people who didn’t have a direct hand in my abuse were being called out and handled as if they were the ones who committed the crime.
I wanted my abuser to suffer, yes, but I didn’t realize that in my attempt to destroy him, I would end up having casualties. Did some of those family members deserve the judgment? Absolutely. But did they deserve death threats? Did they deserve fearing to step foot in a local grocery store on the off chance that one of my “supporters” found them and cornered them? Did they deserve disruptions and consequences in their workplace? I don’t have answers because I’ve long debated the merits of the question of who deserves what. What I did know is that I hadn’t intended for those things to happen as a byproduct of my blog post.
By the end of 2017, I’d lost contact with every single family member on that side of my familial tree except for those who stood in staunch support of me and my mission to bring my abuser down. You might be thinking, “good riddance!” I certainly heard that phrase more times than I can count. I heard, “it’s not your fault, you were doing what a good survivor should do to expose and publicly humiliate the wrongdoers.” I heard, “you are so strong and so brave.”
But what people sometimes forget is that the repercussions affected relationships. It caused a chasm in my family that rippled out further than any of us could have imagined. My post cost me relationships, cost me time with family members I could never get back. The post cost my Dad precious time with his mother and siblings. Yes, I know I didn’t directly cause those things, and the person to blame more than anyone is my abuser, but it doesn’t go unnoticed that sometimes our words have far more reach than we believe. And as the bearer of those words, we have to take responsibility and accountability for the changes that come about because of them.
Was publishing that post worth the price I paid? I have to believe it was because at the end of the day, even with the negative consequences, I did what so many victims are afraid to do — I told my story and owned it. To this day, I still own that story and my voice. And though I’ve spent the last few years trying my hardest to repair some of the ruptures that were caused by that time period, I am not remorseful for posting my truth. I will never be ashamed of owning my story or speaking out about it. I will never again be silenced for the wrongdoing that occurred in my life because of the decisions of others.
But I do have to remember that words can be used to hurt others as much as they can heal our wounds. I have to remember the bravery paradox — that being brave doesn’t negate the fact that there is more to the situation than that one simple act.
Conclusion
From the moment that blog post was published, I knew I would spend the rest of my life helping others find their voice so they could tell their story. And that’s exactly how I spend my days, now. But I am more careful now when I work with my clients and students on how powerful their words can be. We must be brave enough to own our stories and tell them — but we must also be brave in accepting the consequences of using our words. Because nothing changes without a price to be paid and we must be brave enough to accept those costs.
