When sexual assault becomes political theater, survivors are left wondering whether justice still matters. A veteran and survivor reflects on accountability, empathy, and the responsibility of those entrusted with protecting others.
When sexual assault becomes political theater, survivors are left wondering whether justice still matters. A veteran and survivor reflects on accountability, empathy, and the responsibility of those entrusted with protecting others.
Thirty-five years after being sexually assaulted while serving in Kuwait, I find myself asking a question that society still seems reluctant to answer: Why are we so concerned about protecting the futures of those accused of sexual violence while overlooking the futures of those who survive it?
Trauma responses don't always make sense from the outside. Sometimes the danger is long gone, but the nervous system is still sounding the alarm. A look at PTSD, hypervigilance, safety, and learning that not every alarm means there's a storm.
Trauma has a strange way of convincing us that we're responsible for every storm around us. From constant apologies to broken sleep, night terrors, and the need for noise in an empty room, I'm beginning to recognize the difference between navigating the storm and believing I caused it.