Believe Me ✔️

[28] We Stand Strong

⚠️trigger warning: mentions of sexual assault/harassment/abuse, and suicide⚠️

1:58PM. Two minutes to get to the library. Not that I'm in a rush to get to detention. I head upstairs and shove my phone back in my bag and as I walk in I notice the desks are gone and the chairs are arranged in a circle. Oh no. That can only mean one thing: we're going to be talking... to each other... out loud. Great. Other students walk in—some I don't recognize from detention—and start sitting around the circle. Confused, I look around, waiting for them to start staring and whispering, but they don't. No one does. For the first time all year, I'm not the center of attention and again I'm grateful.

Beth and her friend walk over to greet me. "Hey, Addy!" Beth speaks first, beaming with a smile. "We're so glad you're here."

"I'm Cleo, by the way," Her friend introduces with a wave. "Beth's told me all about how you helped her get the confidence to stand up to Kayla and end her toxic friendship. You're quite the influencer."

"Oh, it was nothing," I whisper, a little embarrassed, and gesture to the chairs. "So, what's all this?"

"Beth and I have created a new club. We Stand Strong." Cleo hands me a poster. "To fight against and support victims of sexual assault. Today's our first meeting. Right now it's just a school thing, but we're working on going local to other schools, and then hopefully city-wide. Near the end of the school year, we're hosting a public speaking in front of the school to speak up, raise donations, and spread awareness."

I'm impressed—and amazed—and smile at Cleo. "Wow. That's awesome."

A shy grin grows on Beth's face. "We were hoping you would speak and tell you story. Given everything that's been happening, it'd really help show boys, girls, men and women everywhere that you can still come forward even if people don't believe you, that there will always be someone who supports you."

"What?" I ask, eyes wide as I shake my head. "You want me to speak? No. No, I'm not good with the public speaking thing. It would just be a huge mess."

"That's okay," Cleo says, nodding. "No pressure. If you change your mind, there'll be a spot open for you."

"Thanks," I whisper, the anxiety settling and I turn to find a seat. I squint closely at the back of a head and recognize the messy brown hair. "Douglas?"

He turns around and a sad smile grows on his face. "Addy... after I heard Beth invited you, I was hoping you'd show up."

What is Douglas doing here? I sit next to him, dropping my bag at my feet, and before I can ask Beth walks in the middle of the circle. I guess the meeting's started. "Hey, everyone. Welcome to the very first meeting of We Stand Strong. This group is to shine a light and bring awareness to sexual assault victims. Today is all about getting to know and being comfortable with each other, so there'll be some discussions here and there. If you don't want to speak up, that's fine. If you have something to say, that's fine. This is a safe space. We believe you. No one will judge you and nothing will leave this room." She turns to Mrs. Jenson, who I now realize is sitting across from me. "Mrs. Jenson is here as an adult supervisor. If you'd like to talk about something private, you can speak with me, Cleo, or Mrs. Jenson."

Cleo speaks now. "The number one issue survivors face about speaking up about their trauma is the fear that nobody will believe them. That you're lying. You're being overdramatic. You misunderstood their intentions. You led them on. You wore the wrong thing. You're making it up for attention. All those things keep people from telling their story. It keeps them scared, buried, and silenced. But just one person speaks up and creates a domino effect, and someone speaks up, then someone else, and another, and there's this beautiful chain reaction of warmth and safety. It's our job as human beings to make sure these survivors are loved and supported and have a rock to anchor them down. A domino effect cannot begin without someone knocking over the first tile, so..." She takes in a deep breath. "I was a pastor's assistant at my old church. I helped plan services, picked out verses to discuss, made sure every seat had a bible, stuff like that, you know. The pastor came in the office when I was unpacking new pens for bible study and he started telling me how beautiful I was, commenting on how my body looked nice in the dress I was wearing. He slipped me his phone number and said if I ever went to his house, he'd keep it a secret. I was sixteen. I told my mom, I showed her the note, but she didn't believe me, anyway. 'The pastor is a good man,' She said instead. 'He would never do anything like that'. Then she went on to say that if I weren't wearing that dress, he never would have looked at me, and I didn't have the heart to remind her she bought it for me—to wear to church—in the first place. He's still a pastor there and the dress is hanging in my closet, untouched and collecting dust."