It was another long, hot summer day at my grandparents’ home. I was six years old and my cousin, nine years my senior, had coerced me and two of my female cousins to follow him into a bedroom. Unsure of his own sexual prowess, he decided to exploit the trust and innocence of his younger cousins—touching inappropriately, pushing further and further until he entered that unforgivable and shameful zone of incest. When this happened to me, I didn’t know what to do, where to turn, or who to trust. My grandparents knew nothing of the abuse; but this unfortunate experience left me feeling empty, confused, and vulnerable to years of abuse by different members of my family.

For years, my spirit was lost. I managed to salvage my sanity through the support of my mother, who taught me about meditation and immediately enrolled me in martial arts. My own desire to learn guided me to books that introduced me to strong women who had survived abuse, and won the fight to regain control of their minds, bodies, and spirits. But as time passed, I still struggled with my own ability to acknowledge the pain and move on. When conversations, in the classroom or otherwise, would shift to any discussion about sexual abuse, I would just walk away. Simple as that—I wasn’t going to talk about it.

Then, six years after my innocence was taken from me, I found my soul again. I was teaching in a summer educational program when one of the other student teachers admitted that she, too, had been abused. In the small group, she looked around and said, “There’s someone else in this group who has been abused. I don’t know who you are, but at least one in four girls is sexually abused, so I know I’m not alone here.”

I felt naked, like everyone could see that “someone else” was me. So, after taking a deep breath, I decided that it was time to acknowledge what happened. I made the decision to “out” myself, and in doing so, I jump-started my healing process. After that, I found my healing muse—I read, I wrote, I played sports, I played the trombone, I danced, and I painted. I found solace in the majesty of music and the arts, which allowed me to explore different facets of my own humanity and gain control of my life.

In 2002, over 700,000 young children were referred to California’s Department of Social Services for investigation of child abuse and neglect. Nationally, there are three million reports of child abuse made each year, but experts estimate that the actual number of abuse cases is three times that amount. While many of these children have yet to find their healing muse, a growing number of young people and their families are finding inspiration to heal through the arts.

Champions come in many forms—from those which run direct service programs for young people suffering from victimization to those who use their talents to help elevate awareness that sexual abuse is real and all too prevalent. The Elevate Hope Foundation is a combination of the two. Through the Elevate Hope Foundation (EHF), co-founders Sheila E. and Lynn Mabry are not only raising awareness, but also providing financial resources to combat the effects of childhood abuse and neglect. By supporting programs that use music and art as tools for healing abused and neglected children, EHF is inspiring excellence and providing opportunities for change.

I am pleased to announce EHF as the focus of the Community Spotlight. Join me in supporting their effort to support children and families in need. Through a collective effort, we can help children heal from the severe wounds of abuse so that they can honor their healing process and elevate hope.

Resources:
Child Welfare League of America: http://www.cwla.org
Child Help: http://www.childhelp.org
American Humane: http://www.americanhumane.org
American Music Therapy Association: http://www.musictherapy.org