Erin Moulton - Things We Havent Said: Sexual Violence Survivors Speak Out

In the powerful stories that comprise Things We Havent Said, written by individuals who have experienced sexual abuse, exploitation, assault, and violence, the reader is confronted with the paradox of the written word. These survivors speak out after, for many, years of silence. Their speaking isnt heard but read. It is quiet and patient, awaiting readers to engage, mull over, and consider at their own pace. Words are tentative, an invitation to a conversation that rarely feels one-sided. The reader enters the world of the writer but can stop reading, skip over parts, skim, or reread. While the reader is separate and in control, if you will, reading provides an experience of deep connection to the writer. But as Erin Moulton, the collector of these pieces, states, reading these stories begins an act of empathy. The choice to read these words is already a choice to empathize.

Erin advises the reader to take care when reading. But in general, I am troubled by the all-too-frequent cry of triggers and the appearance of trigger warnings, which alert people to potentially upsetting content. Often, when we say someone has been triggered, this merely indicates that the person is having an emotional response to another persons pain. The individual is reminded of his or her own pain and is, to some extent, revisiting those feelings. But isnt that the basis of empathy?

When the idea of triggers was initially brought into conversations about trauma, psychologists worried about PTSD symptomssuch as the uncontrollable reexperiencing of trauma or the extreme reaction of dissociation (blanking out, floating above the body) to cope with potential reexperiencing. But these reactions are rare, much rarer than the typical discomfort a listener or reader may feel while hearing or reading a trauma story. More commonly, we feel sadness, perhaps anger, heartache, and even, maybe, some spacing out as one gets lost in ones own memories and emotions before reconnecting to the storyteller. This seems human to me. Not something we should avoid.

Still, read these stories when you have the space and time to think about them and the people who wrote them. In giving these people our attention and opening ourselves to their experiences, we support the idea that there is no shame in being a victim. Even if these storytellers do not always feel they have risen to the heroic stature of a survivor, we can relate to them as fellow sufferers.

I want to say a little more about the terms victim and survivor. Some people who have suffered from abuse or from an assault balk at being called survivors, since they do not think their experiences are as bad as others. While its true that not all experiences are the same, sometimes this attitude is just a way we cope when something bad befalls us. We focus on, and separate ourselves from, what could have been worse. People also sometimes balk at the word victim because it seems to carry so much shame. The word can seem to imply that the individual did nothing to stop what happened, and so perhaps, in doing nothing, was partially responsible. We know now that victims do many things to try to get themselves out of the situations they are in. They find ways to avoid the situation, to fight back, to remove themselves psychologically in the moment, or even to go along with what seems like play. Victims and survivors are always active subjects. Agents. Even when someone awful attempts to turn another person into an object, we maintain our subjectivity as thinking, feeling, reasoning beings. The stories that follow are very clear on this point. Several of the writers warn us not to feel bad for them but for what happened to them. They want us to know that they are not defined by their experience. They are Aster and Stephanie and Dina and Bryson and Misha. They are people who experienced a sexual assault. Thats all. Even if thats a lot.

They are survivors and victims with messages of strength for other survivors and victims, messages that defy typical reactions of shame and avoidance. Talk, share, writethats what they urge. Some found a way to kick, claw, shout, and punch. Some went to court. Others waited and then began to heal. Many of them are deeply connected to art forms: dance, music, and poetry. In reading these pieces, a recurring theme is that the antidote to self-injury is often self-expression through art. And ever present, after each story, is the voice of the patient listener, who substitutes for us, the reader: Is everything okay now? Erin reads our minds as we wish fiercely that her contributors will say yes. They rarely do, and yet there is abundant hope at the end of their stories.

In Hummingbird Hearts by Carrie Jones, the writers nana says, Evil never dies. It does in these pages. It is difficult to say why and how. Yet it does every time a victim or survivor speaks outand we listen.

Sharon Lamb, EdD, PhD, is a professor of counseling psychology, a therapist, and the author of several books on victimization and healthy sexuality, including The Trouble with Blame, The Secret Lives of Girls , and Sex, Therapy, and Kids , to name a few.