Translator: Theresa Ranft Reviewer: Ellen Maloney
I believe there are heroes in this room.
In fact, I believe that every single one of us can be a hero,
and we don't even need a cape.
We just need to have courage;
the courage to have an uncomfortable conversation.
But first, I have a confession to make; I hate uncomfortable conversations.
I have spent the better part of the last 20 years
studying or teaching communication, in part, honestly, because I want to avoid
that uncomfortable feeling in a conversation.
But I've also learned, over the years, that oftentime any real change
for an individual, for an organization,
or for a culture,
starts with an uncomfortable conversation.
So, today I'd like to invite you into a conversation
about child sexual abuse.
The CDC estimates that one in four girls,
and one in six boys,
will be sexually abused before their 18th birthday.
Can you think of four girls that you know?
Are they on a soccer team, or in your neighborhood?
Can you think of six boys in your extended family or in a classroom?
Child sexual abuse is a silent epidemic,
and as one of my friends so aptly put it,
"If this were Ebola, the whole world would shut down,
and yet we're not talking about this."
Where are the bracelets, where are the ribbons,
where's the race to the cure for this disease?
There's one woman, I will even call her a hero.
Her name is Erin Merryn, and she made it her personal mission
to ensure that every child across America would learn about personal body safety,
that they have a right to be safe,
and that if someone is harming them who to go to for help.
As a result of what's been aptly named "Erin's Law",
I was appointed to a task force to study this issue in our state.
Over the course of eight months we learned some uncomfortable truths.
We learned that 93% of the time the child knows their abuser,
oftentimes a close family member or friend.
We learned that 90% of the time the child does not report,
and that statistic is even higher for boys
where the stigma still stands that this doesn't happen to them,
or that only males can be abusers.
When the truth is that predators can come in any shape or size,
gender, age, or socioeconomic background.
We learned about grooming strategies that predators use
to lure a child away into private,
to get them to trust them, and to keep secrets.
We learned about the difference between a safe surprise and an unsafe secret.
A safe surprise is when you bake a cake for mom,
and, "Shh! We're not going to tell her until she gets home!"
An unsafe secret is,
"Why don't you come over after school and I'll let you play that game.
You know, the one that your parents won't let you play,
and it'll be our little secret."
But, we also learned about some courageous heroes.
We learned about teachers, counselors, neighbors, and family members,
who saw the signs of abuse, who reported and helped to save that child.
We learned about organizations that teach personal safety to kids.
We learned about hotlines where a child can call and find help in their area.
We learned about organizations that help to spread awareness about this issue,
online forums, and support groups for survivors to begin to heal.
We got a chance to hear from one particularly courageous young woman
who happened to be a student of mine at the university where I teach.
As she sat there and testified to our task force,
and she told us her story,
I couldn't help but admire her courage.
And I also couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.
You see, I was appointed to this task force
because I'm an active member of the community,
and a citizen, stakeholder, a parent.
What most members of the task force didn't know
was that I too was one of the one in four.
When I was six years old, I was staying at my grandparent's house,
when my step-grandfather came in while I was taking a bath
and did unspeakable things.
When it was over, he asked why I was crying,
because he said I was supposed to enjoy it,
and that if I told anyone I would get in trouble.
It was my first, and by far my worst experience with an abuser,
but it was not my last encounter.
When I was 11, I went to one of my best friend's birthday parties
and I kept noticing her uncle taking pictures of me in my bathing suit.
After we ate cake and opened presents,
he asked me to take a walk with him in this wooded area next to their house.
He held my hand and told me how pretty and mature I was,
and he told me that he hoped I would stay good friends with his niece,
so that in three or four years he could have me for himself.
I was 11.
This time, although it took me two weeks,
I did tell because every night I was scared.
I was afraid of what that meant, and what he might do.
Do you know how his family responded?
They told me that you can't take anything he says seriously,
he's always had just an "odd sense of humor."
When I was 13,
we had a crazy eighth grade science teacher.
He was known for getting chalk on his hands
and slapping girls on the butt so he could leave a hand-print.
He would sing songs in class about,
"Asbestos, asbestos, I've always loved ass-bestos."
He even had a sign in his classroom that said,
"I'm not a dirty old man, I'm a sexy senior citizen."
One day, when all the kids had filtered out of the class,
I stayed behind to put some supplies away in the closet,
and he walked in and approached me, presumably to give me a hug,
and, before I knew it, he had pushed me against the shelves,
and was starting to put his hands down my backside.
And I shoved him away, and I ran out, and as I ran away,
I remember hearing him yell that he was, "Just kidding".
At this point, I didn't tell anyone,
because by then I figured, "what's the point?"
It wasn't until I was 17, when a beloved teacher
showed a video and led a discussion about child sexual abuse in my class,
that I finally had a name for what had happened to me,
and I found the courage to go and tell my family.
Research shows that there are many factors that help a child
to recover from this kind of trauma,
but one key factor is that of the support of the mother.
That day my mom listened to me, she believed me, she stood up for me,
and she got me the help that I needed to begin the healing process.
That day, my mom was my hero.
So, according to "How to Give a TEDTalk",
this is where I'm supposed to say something funny.
(Laughter)
Because I know -
thank you for laughing -
(Laughter)
because this is so uncomfortable.
I know that this is uncomfortable, it is uncomfortable for me too.
You see, I dealt with this over 20 years ago.
I did the hard work of working through the painful memories
of acknowledging fully what had happened to me,
and by the grace of God, moving on.
I learned about healthy relationships,
and trust, and boundaries, and listening to my gut,
and I forgave.
I did not deny, I did not shove it under the rug,
I didn't minimize what happened, and I most definitely did not excuse it.
But I forgave it, so it would no longer have power over me.
And I decided that although these things happened,
that this is not who I am; this is not my identity.
And move on, I did.
I married an amazing man.
We started a beautiful family, I started a career
and I moved on to other things that I'm passionate about,
that I advocate for, other good causes out there.
And I would have been perfectly happy to leave this in the past.
I would have been happy to never have to talk about this again.
It's not that I would deny it, or share it occasionally when it was appropriate,
but it's not really something that I wanted to talk about.
Until I realized that if silence is a predator's best friend,
if shame and denial are the ingredients that help this epidemic to grow,
then how can any of us stay silent?
And so I thought that maybe instead of just focusing
on how uncomfortable this conversation is,
we could focus on how this is an opportunity to have courage.
The courage to have this conversation because there are kids out there
that are counting on us to have this conversation.
If there is any boy,
or any girl that is listening to this,
you have a right to be safe.
And if there is anyone who is harming you, or doing things
that make you uncomfortable and making you keep unsafe secrets,
it's not your fault.
You can have courage;
you can have courage and be a hero for yourself,
and maybe somebody else.
Find a safe adult;
find a counselor, or a teacher,
or a safe family member.
And if the first person doesn't listen, then have courage, and keep trying,
until you find someone who can get you to the help that you deserve.
And to the safe adult on the other end of that conversation,
on the other end of that hotline, have courage to listen, to believe,
and to get that child to the help that they need.
And to my brothers and sisters,
to the one in four, to the one in six;
you are survivors, this is not who you are.
You can heal, you can find the courage,
and for some of you,
you may be called to share your stories
so that other people can heal, and learn, and listen.
And to every single one of us, we need to have courage
to open our eyes and to see that,
"Yes, this is real.
Yes, this does happen all around us."
We need to have courage to open our ears to listen,
to thank that child or that survivor for trusting us with their story,
and to learn about the ways that we can get involved,
and we can help turn the tide on this epidemic.
And to every one of us, we can have courage to open our mouths,
to speak up and report, if we know abuse is occurring,
and to speak up and share this idea worth spreading,
because I do believe it's an idea worth spreading.
We can all be heroes, and we don't even need a cape.
We just need to have the courage.
Thank you, God bless you.
(Applause)