“I’m going to ask you about your experience, Amanda. Just so you know, there’s a camera behind that window recording everything you say. Don’t worry, just relax and speak your truth. What you say will be treated as evidence. So, as I mentioned, please tell the truth.”
Why does this person keep insisting on honesty? Who would fabricate a story like this?
The room was stifling, yet I asked for a blanket. “Do you have a stuffed animal or something?”
At 13 years old, I felt silly asking, but as soon as the words left my lips, a kind advocate named Sarah entered with a soft teddy bear and a blanket. She sat beside me, took my hand, and said, “Sweetheart, the hardest part is behind you. He can’t hurt you anymore. Just hold this bear and share your story, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, tucking myself behind a mound of pillows.
“Before we begin,” Sarah added, “it’s crucial for you to understand this: We believe you, Amanda. We believe you.”
Those three words empowered me to carry on.
Through the grand jury proceedings and the grueling cross-examinations, I stood firm. Because they believed me. When the defense attorney tried to tarnish my reputation, branding me as a sexual deviant, I held my ground. Because they believed me. Three years later, when my abuser was found guilty and local news outlets questioned his actual guilt, I simply changed the channel and held my head high. Because they believed me.
From the moment I reported my abuse, I was enveloped by individuals who validated my experience—people who believed me. That affirmation was the lifeboat I needed to weather the storm. It pains me to realize how fortunate I was at that time.
I grew up in Alabama, where political controversies are rampant, and where Roy Moore, an evangelical figure, faces allegations of sexually abusing at least eight minors. Yes, eight. You heard that correctly.
One by one, these brave women have stepped forward to share their narratives, and one by one, they have been ruthlessly attacked.
The vitriolic discourse surrounding Roy Moore’s accusers makes my stomach turn. Not only because I am a survivor of similar trauma but also because, as a court-appointed special advocate (CASA), I know that substantial data supports the likelihood that these women are speaking the truth.
For instance, did you know that in 98% of reported child abuse cases, the victims’ accounts are confirmed? (NSW Child Protection Council, cited in Dympna House 1998). Tragically, many victims—73%—don’t disclose their abuse for at least a year, and over half wait longer than five years, or never reveal it at all. (I waited eight years). (Broman-Fulks et al, 2007). The gap between the occurrence and the report complicates prosecution efforts. Wondering why many women hesitate to come forward? Even when they do, justice is often elusive. For every 1,000 rapes reported, fewer than six offenders face incarceration, allowing many to walk free. Some even find their way into public office.
Do you grasp the gravity of what I’m saying? When someone confides in you about their abuse—no matter how recent or distant—there are three words you should respond with.
I. Believe. You.
It doesn’t matter who the accused is. It could be your best friend, your pastor, or even a historical figure like Davy Crockett. Your emotional investment in that person pales in comparison to the reality of child abuse.
I refuse to tolerate the trolls, the skeptics, and the despicable individuals who question these women’s courage in sharing their pain. We already know that the odds are in favor of these women telling the truth. Statistically, many more remain silent out of fear. We can believe those who come forward while ensuring that everyone has their chance to defend themselves.
So, after all this, can you see why this matters? Don’t contribute to the silence. Don’t become another reason a victim is afraid to speak out.
It may be a 55-year-old stranger’s story making headlines today, but it could just as easily be your child tomorrow. How would you wish the world would react?
I know how I would hope they’d respond.
I would want a champion like my advocate, Sarah—someone who would take my child’s hand, look them in the eye, and without hesitation say, “I believe you.”
That’s how we should respond to these stories. Period.
Say it with me: We believe you.
To Roy Moore’s accusers: We believe you.
To the countless victims who remain unheard: We believe you.
The statistics are alarming. Children are being abused, often waiting years to share their trauma, if they share it at all. When they finally find the courage to speak, they should not be met with shame or disbelief.
I choose to be the person who offers a lifeboat. I will affirm their stories and stand by them.
I urge you to do the same.
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Summary:
In the face of adversity, survivors of abuse require support and validation. The importance of believing those who come forward with their stories cannot be overstated. This piece highlights the significance of affirming survivors, particularly in light of the allegations against figures like Roy Moore. It advocates for a culture of belief and support to empower victims to share their experiences without fear of judgment.
Keyphrase: Believe survivors
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