Am I a victim or a survivor? I am both.
I’ve been the victim of abuse (sexual, physical and emotional) and survived unimaginable traumas. I tried to keep it secret because telling people about it makes them feel uncomfortable.
Imagine how I felt to actually encounter the most uncomfortable experience and then be judged because I made it known. Then to be told it never happened. Or worse, that I asked for it. I see why women keep these things secret. There’s little benefit to telling. The only benefit is that maybe – and it’s a big maybe – maybe someone hearing or reading your experience will be brave enough to tell their story, too.
Stories are incredibly important because stories are how we learn. Growing up on the Navajo Reservation, that’s how I learned.
Stories should be told of what women go through, especially Native American women, because we go through a lot. One in three Native American women is sexually assaulted in their lifetimes, according to the U.S. Department of Justice . Furthermore, Native Americans are likely to experience sexual assault at a rate 2.5 times greater than other races.
Yet I didn’t hear too many stories of sexual assault growing up.
When I finally told my family of my sexual abuse, a lot of my female Native relatives and friends told me similar stories of events that had happened to them. But why did they wait until it happened to me to share their stories? I wish I had heard them long ago, so maybe I could have guarded myself better. I wish I’d known not to trust every person I met. To watch for certain red flags in men and women. That even relatives can be evil. And to tell someone right away.
I didn’t tell anyone right away. I was too ashamed and embarrassed by it all. I felt hideous. The perpetrator was someone who was well liked. Would anyone really believe me? Would they believe that someone so nice and good committed such indecency?
Another factor is that Native American women can’t always rely on the justice system. U.S. attorneys declined to prosecute 67% of sexual abuse, homicide and other violent crimes that occur in the lives of Native American women, according to a 2010 study by the U.S. Government Accountability Office.
We live in a culture that silences victims and survivors and believes the louder voices of those who abuse. Our culture enjoys the silence. Anything to not pay attention to the wolves in the grass. But why? Aren’t our Native American women important enough to protect? Imagine if it was your mother, sister, aunt, even your grandmother. Isn’t she important enough to protect?
It all starts with listening. Listening to these uncomfortable stories. Don’t encourage the silence. Encourage listening and sharing of these uncomfortable stories. Report it, make it known.
From these uncomfortable stories we can learn. Maybe not everyone will believe. But perhaps by telling these stories, maybe those wolves will learn they are not in control anymore. That we are, the victims and survivors – and we see them. And we’re here to protect the innocent ones. If the justice system continues to fail our women, maybe our stories can bring awareness to the wolves in a community and perhaps save someone.
There’s a Navajo saying that my grandmother would tell me: “T’áá hwó’ ají t’éego.” It means, “it is up to you.” I’m hoping we can all make a difference in the lives of our precious Native American women.
Crystal Kelly is Diné and originally from Leupp, Arizona. She earned her bachelor’s degree at Fort Lewis College and a master’s degree from Northern Arizona University. She currently lives in Ignacio and identifies herself as a protector.
