Billie* thought that, maybe, sexual assault was normal.

Billie* was always shy and reserved growing up in Bolivia. 

For as long as she can remember, she preferred quiet activities and giving her time to just a few close, loyal people in her life.

Never did she think someone would manipulate and exploit that quality. But when she was just eight years old, someone she trusted—someone who should have cared for her and kept her safe—started sexually abusing her. And it kept happening, over and over again. 

“I kept trying to convince myself that maybe that was normal, and maybe that was the way people showed love for one another,” she remembers. “I didn’t know if it was normal, but I knew very well that what he did to me was painful.” 

Because the perpetrator was someone close to her family, someone who was always nearby, she felt forced to remain silent. If she spoke up, she was afraid their lives would be disrupted, that relationships would be severed and that they wouldn’t have a place to live any more.

Then, her mother found out the perpetrator had been abusing others in their family too. So her mother filed a complaint and Billie was able to start therapy. 

But Billie’s journey to healing wasn’t easy. Her suffering hadn’t come to an end simply because her family was aware of the abuse. 

Family members pressured her mother to drop the charges against the perpetrator. Her therapist never wanted to talk about the abuse. She tried to bring her case to justice officials, but they either refused to take her case or turned her away altogether. 

“The process was a nightmare. The people I encountered lacked empathy towards my situation,” recalls Billie. “But who [else] could I complain to? I was on my own.” 

It seemed like no one was listening. Like no one cared. Like no one wanted to help. 

Like she was standing on the edge of a chasm, with no way to get to the healing and justice on the other side.

 

 

Yet that wasn’t true at all! There were people in Billie’s community, and people across the world in Canada, who did care and wanted. They were ready to be the bridge and help her find healing and justice. 

Finally, a pro-bono lawyer received her complaint. Because they weren’t able to meet with her regularly, though, they soon referred her to IJM Bolivia. 

It was then that her healing journey took flight. 

She started attending The Phoenix Group, a chapter of the Global Survivor Network in Bolivia. There, she was able to understand that she wasn’t alone—that she was surrounded by other women and men who could empathize and who were ready to walk with her to healing. “They asked me to share my story,” Billie recalls of one of the group’s meetings. “I began sharing and the ladies took my hand, hugged me, and cried with me. I didn’t feel that lonely as I was crying. They are an encouraging group of survivors. I am amazed at how they smile, and how inclusive they are. [They] are wonderful people.” It was also The Phoenix Group who were instrumental in connecting her to a new legal team—a local IJM partner who was able to take on her case and walk with her through complex justice systems. Though she knows she has a long journey of healing ahead of her, Billie sees how far she’s come—and how far she longs for other survivors to come with her. “If I could share a message with any person who is experiencing sexual violence,” she says, “I would tell them ‘It wasn’t your fault. Your heart should be at peace, because you didn’t deserve it. You will find the path to healing and you will overcome.’”