by Gillian Hordusky, advocate
As a survivor, I am not a stranger to hard conversations. I am very vocal on my college campus as a survivor. When I was a freshman, I was very excitable, outgoing, and overly friendly. On my freshman hall, I was the maintainer of the “open door policy.” I made sure everyone was hanging out and that we were spending time together. I worked hard to make sure our home was a community. Some of the hardest conversations I had that year were telling my new friends that one of our own hallmates had assaulted me. The twisted faces of discomfort were telling as they listened to me explain that the quiet kid (who usually didn’t say much) had violated me. My roommates believed me; few others did.
But my hall became a terrifying place where I had to learn the harsh reality that sexual assault survivors were not always believed. I either had to prove it to them or had to listen to the cruel things these people would say to my face and behind my back. That’s when the doors closed and the community ended-- or at least continued without me. Because of my own experiences, I am not a stranger to not being believed.
My sophomore year, I joined a club called Where is the Line. We were small in number but big in heart. Our values were close to my heart: be friends with and create a small safe space for sexual assault survivors. In my circles, my only outlet was my sexual assault support group where I would talk about my problems with a few fellow survivors and work on myself for an hour a week. I could lean on my freshman roommates still, as we remained friends throughout college. These groups helped, but Where is the Line was the turning point in my journey as a survivor. I joined the group but was terrified at first to represent them for anything. I was too scared to table in the student union my first year, in fear of being called out by people from my freshman hall. I only agreed to do Shadow Event because I would be safely hidden behind a screen. [For those who are unfamiliar, the Shadow Event is an event where survivors of sexual violence have the option to anonymously tell their stores. For more information, visit Fear 2 Freedom’s website.]
I worked hard on myself and was determined to find the confidence to speak out. As my time grew in this club, I took on more responsibility. I began to acknowledge and challenge my fears. I was not going to be held back by my fear of not being believed. I would stand strong for my fellow survivors and be an advocate for when they were not strong enough. This pushed me to speak out about my story in the club, on social media, in small groups, at large events, and on television. As President of the club, I was now known in my community as a survivor, and I was no longer ashamed or afraid but proud I could be a voice for myself and others.
In this past year, this role has changed a little, requiring me to be a little extra brave. I have taken on the role of an advocate and mentor for survivors in the reporting process with Title IX. An advocate can attend the Title IX meetings with a survivor, but their only role is to support the survivor. In addition, I have helped many with writing the initial report and contacting Title IX. It’s different from being a witness because I am able to sit with the survivor, and I have no role in the case. I just really get to live out my duty of being a friend in these scary moments. Being an advocate, as well as a survivor, I am different from many other advocates. The biggest difference is I have experience of what a Title IX case looks like, so I can help support a survivor as they begin to understand some of the heavy, confusing parts of the cases. I also can help mentally prepare them for what the meetings will look like.
When I was a freshman, I went through Title IX. I was only 18, and looking back at it, I was too young to know what to do and only had heard about one other case going well. I brought my best friend to sit with me as I told my story. She listened and held my hand, but neither of us understood what was going on. For many survivors, the reporting process can be very scary and confusing. I often wish I had my older self to walk me through what everything meant. It was a long few months, and in the end, I didn’t get the results I wanted, and I was devastated. I don’t blame Title IX, but I wish I was more informed about some of the things, and I wish there was more that could have been done. Helping other survivors get better results and protection from the school is why I am an advocate.
The hardest part of my role is the emotional toll. The stress can be overwhelming. It hurts me to have to watch my friends and fellow survivors go through stress and pain. But I am proud that I am trusted to guide them through these conversations. It reminds me of when my friends and mentors tried to help me to be brave when I was a freshman. The only difference was that I didn’t have any older sexual assault survivors to tell me it was going to be okay. I had people who were going through this for the first time with me. I’m grateful for them, but I hope with my own experience and my mentor’s kindness as tools, I am empowering fellow survivors to make it through college one day at a time.