When Movements Don't Keep Us Safe: Dolores Huerta Breaks Her Silence
… And Reminds US that Predatory Behavior Exists in All Spaces and Should Never Be Excused
Helmut Newton via Auctionet
Whether a survivor chooses to share their story, including the name of the offender, or not is their choice alone. I was raped by a stranger in a home invasion. So, while I share my story, I have nobody to name. When someone like Dolores Huerta–activist, movement leader, and inspiration to so many–breaks her silence it reminds me yet again of just how powerful survivors are. It goes beyond surviving this type of violence. It’s how we share our stories to be beacons in the ocean for others to know they are not alone, to normalize sharing and remove feelings of shame, and provide others with the opportunity to come forward.
Dolores Huerta’s powerful legacy now extends to choosing to share her story that Cesar Chavez, her co-founder in the farmworkers movement, sexually abused her. That he used his power for the manipulation, coercion, and grooming of other victims (both children and adults). Reflecting on the 60 years that Dolores Huerta felt she needed to stay silent to protect the movement she was building, I think about the pain and the cognitive dissonance she experienced doing her life’s work: acting as a powerful advocate for millions of farmworkers and others who were oppressed and yet feeling like she needed to bury her own experience of violence and harm. As a survivor, I cannot imagine the re-traumatization Huerta must have felt having to work so closely with a violent predator or the toll of her conviction that the movement she built would only succeed if she stayed silent.
What pains me the most is that I don’t think she was wrong. In all likelihood her sacrifice of her own safety and protection likely kept the movement growing and gaining strength. I would imagine that anyone against farmers unionizing would have reveled in any opportunity to sow dissent and disruption in this nascent space. And yes, the disconnect can be extreme when someone who was pro-worker, who was helping build a better and more equitable future, was also using their position to exert violence and violations.
Predatory behavior should never be excused: violence is violence, end of story. It doesn’t matter what values you espouse, what work you do, or what causes you support. If you have harmed, abused, or violated another person, none of it counts. This is especially true with movement leaders whose values are based on community, solidarity, equity, and other liberatory values. Movements cannot claim these values if they do not protect or uplift those most marginalized within their own community spaces. We do not ignore violence “for the greater good,” and yet, in practice, people are censored, suppressed, and silenced to keep offenders in power (yes, we see this everywhere).
Whether it’s Cesar Chavez’s litany of violent and abusive behavior, the Dalai Lama telling a child to “suck his tongue” or Mother Theresa’s “selfless intentions” which were in fact oppressive, predatory, and glorifying suffering, we know that “good people” can still do immense harm. When you think about it, it’s not surprising that many people doing “good works” from foster carers to non-profits are places where predators can thrive. They have prime targets who are extremely vulnerable. In my time as a Rape Crisis Counselor for RAINN, I cannot tell you how often I was getting messages from children that were being harmed within systems meant to protect them (and, unsurprisingly, many of these cases involved a parent who was either a cop or very close with cops).
All of this puts an incredible burden on survivors. Somehow the experience becomes increasingly painful and traumatic when you have the added fears of (or the actuality of) being shamed, judged, disbelieved, and harmed in other ways. When you add the fear of job loss, being shunned by your family or your community, or ousted from a movement. And then there is the infuriating process where people evaluate the harm you experienced based on the “goodness” of the offender, dismissing, hiding, and suppressing folks’ experiences for the “greater good”. Survivors internalize these beliefs because we know how society values people in the hierarchy of supremacy, patriarchy, and level of power.
But harm and violence don’t get to be dismissed or allowed just because you’re doing important work. This has been one of the most frustrating things to witness during the release of the Epstein files. The dismissiveness of those “loved” figures on the left who were also actively participating in predatory and abusive behavior towards children and adults or were witnessing this behavior and doing nothing to stop it. And while some people may disagree, I think both stances are equally bad. Turning a blind eye to children being drugged, abused, raped, and murdered doesn’t make you better than the person doing it. Unfortunately, we have seen it time and time again: proximity to power, and even the mere suggestion of having reached that nonexistent white supremacist peak, is enough to turn someone who once fought for the people into someone who only fights for themselves.
This burden that survivors carry should not be ours to bear. I think of Gisèle Pelicot, who only discovered she had been drugged and raped by her husband and 51 other men when her husband committed another predatory crime. During the trial she stated on waving her anonymity: “It’s not bravery, it’s determination to change society” and “shame must change sides”. These stories and so many others make you think: how often are survivors put in positions where they put others needs before their wellbeing? How often do those of us who hold multiple marginalized identities push this part of us deep down because we want people to stay focused on causes and issues that impact so many of us? How often do folks stay silent to “protect the family” or “to uplift a community or a religious leader”?
The most dramatic difference when Dolores Huerta shared her truth with the world was the immediate, decisive action that was in fact pro survivor. Instead of hearing things like “oh, but we still need to remember the great and important work of Cesar Chavez” or “but he also won a Presidential Medal of Freedom” we witnessed the canceling of events planned to honor Chavez including United Farm Workers, the very organization that Huerta founded and then co-led with Chavez. It is far too rare to see a swift and clear statement like this that is in support of survivors, one that takes accountability with no excuses. This should be the norm and absolute minimum. When we people say support survivors, this is part of it–you don’t stay friends with your best friend if they raped someone else you know, even if you are close with the rapist.
In tandem with Huerta’s story we have the continuous leaking and releasing and then obfuscation and redactions of that same information related to the Epstein files. All we are seeing is rewriting history, excusing behavior, blatant lies and attacks on survivors, and shifting accusations between predators to draw the spotlight off themselves. I am honestly just as pissed at people who are “shocked” by the files as the headlines saying “this person in power or this CEO who was named in the Epstein files has stepped down.” This is not fucking accountability, this is a PR stunt. It is clearly framed as a choice by the predator, which is especially sickening given the stripping of power and choice their victims have. These people in power make it seem like they’re being humble and stepping down for the sake of the company or movement when in fact they are still profiting and benefiting from their power and privilege. They make a quick exit without having to actually accept responsibility and then will likely pop up as a leader in another country in a year or less where they’ll get to continue their predatory behavior. There’s no justice. These organizations enacted no protections even as rape culture flourished within them. Stepping down does absolutely nothing to hold predators accountable and it’s an absolute slap in the face to survivors who deserve safety, protection, healing, and justice.
What is the culture within communities, organizations, and movements that sustains this type of violence that is the opposite of their values? Beyond the person in power stepping down, who were those protecting them and how are they being held to account? It’s clear that these abuses and violence aren’t happening in a vacuum. They are happening all the fucking time, it’s just a case of whether you are choosing to be oblivious (which is actively participating in harm) or not.
Think about times you’ve been with friends, family, or community. Do you call out someone making a predatory or derogatory remark? Do you say something when someone says something misogynistic? Those “not all men” folks who may never rape someone but allow their friend to joke about rape? You may have “laughed less” or been “internally cringing” but you in fact didn’t do the right thing. You didn’t shut it down. This is all part of rape culture.
Survivors witness this in media, politics, pop culture, and within their friend circles and families. Whether you think these comments are meaningless or not, it influences folks on whether they will trust you enough to share their experience and how they should feel about their experience. Survivors should never have to fear being questioned or asked why we only decided to share this now or dismissed because it “can’t possibly be true”. We deserve to be believed, seen, and heard every single fucking time.
I have carried rage and grief for decades against the people who violated and harmed me. I carry the trauma with me every day. And for far too long, rape culture had me blaming myself and drowning in shame. And the fact that society has not educated folks on how to support survivors of harm–people are not taught to sit quietly and just listen to not ask violent questions of survivors. Since chief Trump was running for election in 2015 that rage has boiled over. It’s not like we didn’t know there were tons of predators being protected and kept in power, be they priests or teachers or politicians, but it felt like it was being shoved in your face. And it hasn’t stopped.
Which is why I am so fucking angry at people acting like things happening in the Epstein files or those named in the Epstein files are new and surprising to folks, that they couldn’t have imagined it. While you may have never experienced sexual violence yourself, the statistics show us you clearly know people who have. If none of them have ever told you, that silence probably means you are not someone survivors feel safe with. Learn from that and do better.
I keep wanting to post long videos with my thoughts and reminders. I want survivors who are being re-triggered to know they’re not alone. To remind folks of the vicarious trauma things like the Epstein files or this new information about Chavez or other news can have. I want to tell you that none of this is new. None of this is surprising. In that same vein, I would have zero surprise if we have other movement leaders, activists, and folks who are fighting for OUR liberation being harmed by “icons” and “legends” in movement or community spaces. Especially in movements and spaces where folks hold multiple marginalized identities and despite a liberatory framework, patriarchy and supremacy are still oh, so real.
This is not to say, oh, we shouldn’t build power or believe in movement leaders. It is a reminder that yes, none of us are perfect, but we are indeed accountable for our actions. No matter how many “good” things you do, it will never excuse using your power to hurt people. This is about understanding and dismantling rape culture. Reviewing that culture even and especially within progressive spaces. It is about having processes to call people in or out, and support structures to back those processes up. This is about caring for all folks in the collective equally, and not granting those in power more weight or value than anyone else.
I applaud Huerta’s decision to share her story as well as her very real acknowledgement that she stayed silent because she was worrying it could hurt the incredible and critical movement she was leading. I am inspired by her naming that very real issue even if it makes people uncomfortable and need to reassess their views on someone they may have revered.
Whether it’s an abuse of power through racism, misogyny, aggression, or violence, we are still being played by systems that were never meant for us, systems that trick us into believing that success means holding power over people, even as we fight for power for the people.
One of the most infuriating phrases I’ve ever heard is “I have a sister so I’d never sexually assault someone.” That’s just not how the world works. What is probably more accurate for these people is “I would never sexually assault my sister… but if I see you as other or less than? Who knows.”
I am exhausted by excuses when it comes to someone that’s important to you. I am exhausted by your shock. I am exhausted by your bewilderment. Huerta’s story for many survivors and those working in the violence prevention space will not be a surprise. It adds to our list of people who should not have to be brave, should not have to put others’ needs before themselves, and should have always known they would be believed, supported, and protected.
You’ve seen the statistics before but I fear they don’t mean anything. What do you think when you read 1 in 5 women in the US have experienced rape in their life and 1 in 3 women have experienced rape for the first time between 11 and 17? These rates also increase significantly for marginalized populations. This means people in your immediate circle are survivors. That even if no one has shared their story with you they watch and feel and hear the harmful things you say or the things you allow others to share. You are in fact part of the problem.
I will no longer hold your hand. We have been screaming statistics and calling out your favorite celebrity for ages. But you don’t care because that person is important to you. Because you value them over someone they have harmed. Because you value the figure they represent over real people. Rape and sexual assault, child sexual assault, and abuse are happening all the time. This in and of itself is not news. And it’s rarely executed by strangers in vans. It’s by family members and friends. People you are in relationships with. People who you trust who betray you. It could be your best friend.
The fact that sexual assault and rape of children and others is being normalized right now is disgusting – whether it’s through AI child sexual abuse material, the protection of predators, that it’s just a “sexual interest”, or the excusing of pedophiliac behavior. All children and adults need to be taught to understand what signs of abusive behavior look like because I think we as society are constantly downplaying problematic behavior and it’s time to wake up.
Right now it feels like all the dirty laundry is being proudly aired. We are seeing thousands of predators being given a slap on the wrist, excused, or even eradicated from records thus rewriting history–where ethics have been twisted to help abusers. We focus on the salaciousness of the crime and sometimes it feels like we’re commenting on a reality tv show losing focus on the very real human who underwent this trauma. None of this is excusable. Violence is violence no matter who the perpetrator is or what they represent. Survivors deserve better than anything we’ve experienced. And I hate the fact that the decisive actions made to eliminate Chavez memorials once Huerta shared her story was in essence the opposite of how we react when survivors disclose.
Believe it or not YOU play a part in how folks react, empower, and protect survivors. I urge you to reflect on and carry these questions with you:
What will you do the next time you hear of someone making allegations?
How will you behave differently if someone accuses someone you love?
How will you show up and support survivors?
How will you set a better example in the community on how you express yourself and your standards for others?
How will you hold yourself accountable for the part you play in disrupting rape culture?
How will you take the burden off of survivors and instead focus on the perpetrators.
How will you start using an active voice and putting the emphasis on predators?
How will you be a part of people who help shame shift to the right side?
How will you disrupt your internalized and externalized rape culture-isms?
It is not a survivor’s job to protect others. It is your job to create spaces and communities where people are safe regardless of how they identify.
For Dolores Huerta, Debra Rojas, and Ana Murguia and all the others who were harmed by Chavez. For Virginia, Maria, Annie, Johanna, and the hundreds if not thousands of folks who survived Epstein and his cronies. For all the survivors we’ve lost along the way. For the survivors who have never told their story for fear of harm and retribution. For the survivors who carry shame that is not theirs. For the survivors who are in forced close proximity to their abusers. For survivors around the world. For me and for you.
We deserve to exist in a world and in spaces where we will be believed. We deserve the time and space we need to heal. We deserve to make space for our anger and grief. We deserve to be seen as more than the label of survivor. We deserve for our humanity to be seen. We deserve to be more than a name on a list. We deserve to be valued far, far above perpetrators of harm. We deserve protection, safety, and support. We deserve better. We deserve so, so much more than we have received.
Huerta’s legacy is powerful and an inspiration to so many people. My hope is that she is remembered for all of her critical movement work and not just this story. My dream is that perhaps part of her legacy will be folks realizing how they should act when a survivor chooses to share their story–that we will be believed and not shut down.
Thank you, Dolores, for your wisdom, leadership, care, dedication and the story you chose to share with all of us. We are so grateful for you.