I will never forget the day I learned the word rape. I was ten years old and I overheard a discussion between my mother and another female family member. “Did you hear about Mike Tyson raping that girl?” the family member asked my mother, whose eyes quickly darted over to me to assess my reaction to that question. I don’t recall what happened next, but later that day when I was alone with my mother, I asked her what that word rape meant. I was privileged and protected enough to not have any lived experience that would provide context for what the explanation that followed. My mother always did her best to provide developmentally appropriate explanations for things. She provided as as simple an answer as she could and I walked away with a new understanding that there was a way that sexuality and violence could overlap. I’d only recently learned a very simple, Mom-crafted explanation of what sex was and was still metabolizing that strangeness. Something in my young psyche shifted as I tried to comprehend the reality of sexual violence.
Over the next few years, my consciousness of rape expanded. In the early nineties, there was an epidemic of disappearances across the country, especially in my area, of young girls my age. Some of them were found dead, having been violently raped and killed. Some were never found, but we could all infer their fate had been the same. Flyers in every grocery and department store and on so many telephone polls were a constant reminder of the danger that lurked around the corner for me, my sister and my friends. The horrors of childhood sexual abuse, often perpetrated by family members or other trusted caregivers, were relayed in detail in magazines and news articles I could easily get my hands on. I remember watching the news with my mother and the anchor casually reported that a five year old girl had been “raped and thrown out a window.” I struggled to comprehend the early descriptions my mother had given me around sexual intercourse, that it was something that was only possible for adults to do, with the alarming monstrosities that seemed more and more a part of every day life.
As I grew older, another vicious reality became glaringly apparent. So often, those who survive sexual violence are not believed. The early stories I’d read about revolting and perverse acts of sexual violence against children were outliers not in their horrific content, but in the fact that the perpetrators had been caught, exposed to the public and put in prison. Moving into my teenage years, rape and sexual abuse became something I didn’t just read about or hear on the news but something that was disclosed to me by those who had survived it.
I do not personally know even one survivor whose perpetrator was held accountable for their cruel, life-altering crimes. I know plenty of survivors who spoke up about what happened to them, and were made to suffer by their family, community and/or the criminal justice system. The cruel reality is that survivors of sexual violence are punished far more often than perpetrators are.
How can healing even be possible in a world such as this?
The answer to this question is complicated, incomplete, ever evolving. It involves systemic change, defunding patriarchal religions, a restoration of the female as Sacred, overthrowing patriarchy, healing our broken belonging, and re-establishing respect for and kinship with the Earth, who is also struggling to survive patriarchal violence.
The growing field of ecotherapy is demonstrating what so many of us know intuitively and experientially. Spending time in nature is healing for survivors of sexual violence and other forms of trauma. In addition to decreasing stress and anxiety and increasing a sense of connection and belonging, many survivors feel the consciousness of nature Herself witnessing the truth of their experiences. There’s no need to explain, describe, prove or justify one’s suffering in the presence of Mother Earth. She feels the truth without needing a single word. And She will also listen to and hold all of the words, all of the screams, all of the tears.
The song She Believes, written by my bandmate Kathleen Joan Neville-Shinn, is a soothing song of consolation and allyship that describes exactly this. Belonging with Mother Earth, who witnesses and believes, is a potent medicine for survivors.
SHE BELIEVES by Kathleen Joan Neville-Shinn
Mother Earth stands with you
Sister Water feels the flow of your truth
Sibling Air will hear you
They listen and they believe
Daughter Fire rises within you
Her dancing guides your way
Spirit of joy and of hope
The Mother of All surrounds you
Eternal Goddess feels the flow of your truth
Sophia Wisdom hears you
She listens and She believes
Love Herself rises within you
Her flame consumes all fear
In Her you are one with the One who is All
The Mother’s love surrounds you
Feels your truth, lives within you
She holds you, She listens – And She believes
Your reflection on the impact of learning about sexual violence resonates deeply with the trauma that so many women and girls face across the world. The moment you overheard that conversation about Mike Tyson and asked your mother about rape mirrors what countless children experience as they try to grasp the dark realities of sexual violence—a reality that continues to unfold as they grow up and witness the rampant injustices faced by survivors.
Like you, I developed an understanding of the overlap between violence and sexuality, but for me, it grew into something more—a calling to confront the systemic normalization of violence against women. It’s why I founded Kolo: Women’s Cross-Cultural Collaborations and wrote my book Blood and Honey Icons: Bioculinary and #Biosemiotics. My work centers on #koloinformedtrauma, which looks at the deep, interconnected trauma that lives in not just the bodies of survivors, but within the very ecosystems we are part of. Biosemiotics—the study of life through signs—helps us understand that our bodies and the Earth are in constant communication, constantly sending signals of distress, healing, and resilience.
The Earth, what the Slavic people call “moist mother earth,” is one of the most potent healers for trauma survivors. This is why I so deeply appreciate your discussion of ecotherapy—the idea that nature witnesses our pain without judgment, without the need for explanation. The Earth holds us, just as we hold memories of violence and survival within our own ecosystems, much like how a fetus is held in the nurturing environment of the womb. The notion that we can turn to Mother Earth for solace, as if returning to the safety of the womb, is not just poetic—it is rooted in science, culture, and tradition.
My own work is deeply influenced by the recognition that healing requires a holistic approach that goes beyond the criminal justice system or community support. We must dismantle the structures that perpetuate violence, including patriarchal religions, systems of power, and harmful cultural norms that deny women their sacredness. True healing will only come when we restore a sense of belonging, kinship, and respect for all life—both human and non-human.
Your mention of the song She Believes captures this beautifully. We do not need validation from a broken system that so often silences us. Instead, we find healing in the Earth, in nature, in the act of witnessing and being witnessed. This is at the core of my work in #koloinformedtrauma—understanding how our intimate relationships with each other, and with the Earth, are crucial to healing.
Thank you for sharing your journey and your insights. Together, through cross-cultural collaboration and a renewed relationship with our environment, we can work toward a world where survivors are heard, believed, and held with the care they deserve.