Sexual Assault Awareness Month: Supporting Survivors Beyond the Files

You’ve probably seen it, even if you didn’t want to: on the news, scrolling, a casual conversation over dinner. Just like that, the whole world is speculating about the very experiences survivors already have a deep knowing of in their bodies. For some, it may seem like a problem far removed from their daily lives. Statistically, those people are wrong.

Nearly half of women and more than 1 in 6 men experience some form of sexual violence in their lifetimes [CDC]. The statistics show that if you don’t personally know what that experience is like, then you know someone who does. Nearly every minute, someone in the United States is assaulted; every nine minutes, that someone is a child [RAINN]. Where do we even start when the scope of the problem is so vast, so overwhelming?

As it turns out, the groundwork for fighting back against the problem of sexual abuse has been built for over a quarter of a century. April marks the 25^th anniversary of the celebration of Sexual Assault Awareness Month [NSVRC]. The movement has roots tracing back to the first rape crisis center founded in San Francisco in 1971 and is closely tied to the Civil Rights Movement. It would be 23 more years before the Violence Against Women Act passed—a historic piece of legislation enshrining protections for women into law.

A tandem movement was born in San Francisco seven years after the first rape crisis center was formed: Take Back the Night. Held on the first Thursday of April each year, Take Back the Night brings awareness to the sexual violence epidemic and advocates for the end of sexual violence of all forms [TBTN].

Ohio University celebrates Take Back the Night annually, with powerful stories shared by survivors, artistic performances celebrating empowerment, and ends with a march through Athens. This year, Take Back the Night will be held on April 2 in Baker Ballroom. The doors open at 6:30pm and the march will take place at 8:00pm. You can add it to your calendar here.

There is something incredibly powerful about bearing witness to support survivors, and the statistics back it up. Decades of research have confirmed what mental health professionals have seen in their offices time and time again—survivors who feel supported by important people in their lives experience less severe and shorter-term negative mental health impacts [Ullman, 2025].

This brings us back to our original question: Where do we even start? The most important thing you can do is start by believing. The power of the words, “I hear you and I believe you,” cannot be overstated. You can also offer support to survivors in your life by helping them connect to resources such as local domestic violence shelters, mental health resources, or national hotlines.

The files have demonstrated the insidious magnitude of the problem. Micro-level interventions are critical for the support and wellbeing of survivors, but they are not enough. Until we address the problem on a societal level, this will keep happening. You can support survivors not just by offering empathy, but by demanding accountability. Call your legislators. Hold your friends and family accountable. Intervene when you see a situation that doesn’t feel right. One of the most powerful things about Appalachia is our sense of community. We owe it to each other to both support each other and advocate for change.

Finally, to the survivors reading this, here are the things I wish someone had told me: Maybe you hated ‘victim,’ and maybe deep down you hated ‘survivor’ even more, because each day you couldn’t bear to think of surviving until the next one. Shame felt like that time when you were little when someone pushed you into the deep end of the pool where your toes couldn’t touch and you couldn’t find which way was up. And maybe you began to feel resentful when people praised your strength and resilience because you got so tired of always having to be strong and resilient. You grew to know the way the air grew stale between you when you told someone what happened to you. The betrayals of the people you trusted to be there for you somehow hurt just as much as what happened to you in the first place.

You were not somehow made more—more strong, more resilient, more inspiring, more whatever—you always were those things. You were not made less either. This experience may be part of your story, but it does not define you. You will find which way is up and it will not always feel like you’re treading water in the deep end. There are people out there who will jump into the deep end with you. They will hold your story with care and tell you that you are not alone in it. Your story is so, so much more intricate than any file could hold, and it will continue to grow and change and take shape in the most incredible ways.

Mary Kate McElroy, MFA, SWT

Survivor Advocacy Program

Ohio University