My parents showed us that love was the foundation for everything, and they modeled what it looked like lived out. Love didn’t thrive on authority; it thrived on sacrifice. Love sought to communicate and understand. Love was humble, admitting wrongs and seeking to repair the damage. Love protected.

The truth is, I had the tools I needed, and I knew how to use them from an early age. Yet when the time came, they were not enough to help me be heard and be believed.

Little girls, she argued, were worth nothing more than the medals they could win, so they were starved, abused, and used to keep their bodies and skills perfect—like “pretty boxes.”

The idea many people want to cling to—that survivors just don’t know how to speak up—simply isn’t true. It’s a notion we need to let go of and instead do a better job understanding what really keeps victims silent.

People have no idea what it costs survivors to stop an abuser.

“I’ve been coming for you for a long time,” she told Larry, her voice tinged with anger and power. “I’ve told counselors your name in hopes that they would report you. I’ve reported you to Child Protective Services twice. I gave a testament to get your medical license revoked. “Perhaps you have figured it out by now,” she said, without flinching. “

It wasn’t “good timing,” most would say, but that little baby was there, and its tiny heart was beating strong, and that little life had value. And we could rejoice in that.

Bullies and predators prey on the defenseless. They count on victims being unable to protect themselves. More important, they count on everyone else being too afraid to confront them. I hate injustice, but I hate silence and apathy in the face of injustice even more. Far too often, bullies’ belief that no one will challenge them is both well-founde

To this day, I don’t remember what official consequence was meted out for our infractions, but I do remember this: My mom was protected. And she was protected because my dad loved.