Survivorship in Advocacy: Transitioning from Victim to Advocate

I wish there was a light switch that made it clear when you were "done" being a victim and begin your work as an advocate. Alas, for many individuals who have "been there, done that," part of our journey involves joining the helpers: Becoming advocates ourselves.

If you look around the state -- even the nation -- at the local domestic violence, sexual assault and comprehensive crime centers -- a large chunk of staff will tell you that once upon a time, they may have been the ones that filled our shelter beds or counseling office chairs.

It's true. For many survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault and other crimes, one of the biggest steps in healing is the act of paying it forward: giving back to the organization(s) that helped them heal, and using their experience (and expertise!) to ensure that they can help others escape.

At Transitions, when you ask around, almost every staff member -- even if they aren't personally former victims -- have a pull to the work we do. For many of us, when we look into the eyes of a victim who just got brought into shelter, we may see a little (or a lot) of ourselves in them.

I'm an Education Specialist, meaning that besides wearing dozens of hats, my main responsibility to go into schools (amongst other places!) and teach students all about topics to stay safe and hopefully prevent these awful epidemics. Another task we have -- especially with the older ones -- is identifying what abuse may look like, and helping identify victims.

You see, for me it's wild -- not too long ago, I was just a student in one of those desks. I was barely 17 years old when I first encountered my abuser. Had my school had someone coming in to speak, perhaps I would've had the knowledge and tools to identify that abuse wasn't just "getting hit in the face," and had the empowerment to leave sooner.

For me, as a survivor, I made a promise to myself when I escaped -- a simple one, at that: I'm going to get better, and when I do, I'm going to be the adult I always needed when I was younger.

I wish I could tell you that every single day of this work is empowering. Don't get me wrong, of course, for the most part, it is. However, there are the little moments every once and a while that catch me: The way it feels when a student first discloses they are being abused, and how their eyes look at you like they've been carrying the weight of the world on their young shoulders. The tired eyes of a mother who is afraid to answer a phone number she doesn't recognize, or jumps nearly a foot when someone closes the refrigerator loudly. The victim shaking and crushing a water bottle in their hands as they wait for the judge to enter the courtroom.

I have been you. I have felt your anxiety, your helplessness, your fear. I have fled with a hodgepodge of my belongings in Hefty bags in the early hours of the morning. Every once and a while, even today, when I see certain cars with specific makes and models, I freeze.

No matter how many years separate me from my dark past and my present, I will never be able to flip that switch. No, instead us survivors leave that switch 'on' and decide to shine brighter. We become lighthouses -- beacons of hope -- leading other ships out of the stormy seas.

-- Rachel Farrow, Education Specialist