When I found out that my daughter had been abused by someone close to our family, I was devastated. I felt alone and overwhelmed with police, inspectors, calls with therapists, teachers, and attorneys. I was facing the reality that my daughter was harmed by someone I trusted, and I felt responsible. Every day I was tasked with errands related to addressing the abuse via the criminal justice system. Many of those tasks felt like an additional violation of my daughter and that made me feel, again, like I wasn’t protecting her. What I found most challenging was trying to be strong for my daughter when every day I wanted to just cry. I needed help and longed for support. I didn’t know what to ask for and many people “ghosted“ me because they just couldn’t find the words to say.
When a family you know is trying to support their son or daughter who has experienced sexual trauma, it can be difficult to know how to support them. The survivor and the family are struggling with intense emotions like anger, guilt, sadness, rage, and extreme loss. The family may be feeling guilty that they were unable to protect their loved one from the abuse that occurred. They may also feel extremely alone in their pain and struggle to manage their individual emotions while collectively trying to support the survivor. Well-meaning friends and family witnessing this pain may feel uncomfortable offering support as they are scared they may say or do the wrong thing.
While you may fear saying the wrong thing to a survivor or their family, saying nothing can feel like abandonment. I have some thoughts about how to be supportive to families like mine. These thoughts are my own, and I think it’s important to keep in my mind that other’s needs may differ from mine. This is solely my perspective.
Even though you may be scared to say the wrong thing, reach out anyway.
When people found out what happened to my daughter, the phone calls started coming in. They would ask how my daughter and I were doing. I appreciated those calls. They reminded me of the community we had and made me feel less alone in my efforts to support my daughter. Some people stated they didn’t know what to say, or they couldn’t imagine what I must have been feeling. And that was okay. It’s okay to not know what exactly we are experiencing. Frankly, I’d prefer sympathy, rather than empathy. I hope they’ll never know that feeling, but I appreciated them caring enough to call me and let me know they were there. That meant a lot. If I wasn’t in a place to talk, I had a choice to not answer the phone but guess what? I saw YOU called.
Offer help even if it’s practical.
One of my friends came over and offered to help me clean up my place. She puttered around looking confused about where things went but she was there, and she was helping. Others offered to accompany me to court dates. Four of my cousins attended just about every court date with me. I appreciated having them there. There was something satisfying about having five Black women staring down my daughter’s abuser at every court date. There was a shared rage, and we wore it in our gaze… collectively.
Another friend who had knowledge of the legal process would call occasionally and tell me what to expect. I appreciated that he shared his wisdom and helped in the way that he knew best.
Sometimes just listening is enough.
One of my girlfriends invited me to her place, and I cried on her couch. I talked about my concerns for my daughter, my fear of the unknown, my shame, and my anger. I would talk and overthink things while she occasionally interjected: “Can I just say that you don’t have to deal with all of that right now? You have time to figure those things out.” She loved me (and still does) and would sporadically stop me from blaming myself. “Amber, don’t do that to yourself. That’s not fair to you.” Her listening support was instrumental in not only creating a safe space for me to grieve but also allowing me to go home and stand strong for my daughter.
Showing up as my most authentic and genuine self is very important. I suggest not overextending yourself or offering help that you may not be able to sustain. I know that when people offered to help with something, I viewed it as one less thing for me to worry about; however, if the person didn’t follow through, I was left scrambling to sort something out and that created additional stress for me.
It’s very important to know your emotional limitations. For example, if you are extremely empathetic and prone to crying, there are times when that is not helpful at all. While you’ve shown up to be supportive, suddenly the family is tasked with or may feel compelled to take care of you.
Saying nothing and sitting in silence is okay. While it may feel awkward to sit in silence, your presence can mean a lot. Don’t underestimate how meaningful the gift of your time is.
Allow the family to share as much or as little as they feel comfortable. Refrain from asking probing questions or asking for intimate details that make the survivor or the family relive and or retell the story. Keep in mind that they’ve talked to police, prosecutors, nurses, therapists, victim witness advocates, and family. Offer comfort and allow them to share on their own.
If you are reading this, someone you love may have experienced sexual trauma. Please know that they and their families appreciate you caring enough to research ways to support a loved one through this difficult time. As our communities continue to learn how best to support girls and families in need, we must remember that we are stronger together.