updated from August 2015 People often assume that if you’re bold on the page, you must be loud in person. But many of us who speak boldly in p
updated from August 2015
People often assume that if you’re bold on the page, you must be loud in person.
But many of us who speak boldly in public, especially about trauma and truth, are the quiet ones in the room. That silence makes some people uncomfortable. I’ve been told as much. But introverts know: the real party is always in our heads.
This summer, a fellow child sexual abuse prevention activist read one of my pieces and asked, “How can you be so bold like that?”
We laughed—because we understood.
I told her what I’ll tell you now:
If ignorance, hate, and vulgarity can be shouted with pride—paraded like trophies—then those of us who carry truth must be just as bold, if not bolder.
Because silence doesn’t protect children. And politeness doesn’t push back against harm.
A Line Was Crossed
Amy Poehler produces a show on Hulu titled Difficult People. In one episode, a line was written about Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s three-year-old daughter, Blue Ivy. It was evil. It involved sexual abuse.
Someone thought that line.
Then wrote it down.
It made it through writers’ rooms.
Passed producers.
Went to filming.
Got edited.
Was streamed.
Into households where children live.
And not a single person said: Stop.
Not one apology. Not one retraction. Not even a flimsy excuse like, “Carbon monoxide must’ve been leaking into the room that day.”
So let’s be absolutely clear:
Child sexual abuse is not entertainment. Not ever.
There is nothing funny about the violation of a child.
But the bigger question is:
What makes someone even want to think that way in the first place?
And What Does Race Have to Do with It?
Everything.
Because if they felt comfortable saying something that vile about Blue Ivy—a beloved child of wealth, fame, and power—what do you think happens daily to:
Keisha?
Shaunta?
Tamika?
Towanda?
Tonya?
Sandra?
The daughters without platforms. Without cameras. Without protection.
1. The Lie of “Fatherless Girls”
Let’s talk about the phrase “fatherless girls.”
It’s become a catch-all scapegoat to explain away the harm that men do to girls.
It implies that if only she had a father, she wouldn’t have been harmed.
It blames the child for the failures of the father.
Worse, it’s used as a lazy excuse for why grown men prey on girls.
Let me tell you something:
Girls from every background—rich, poor, fathered, fatherless—are harmed.
Britney Spears had an involved father. And still, she was sexualized as a child onstage for the world to consume.
This is not about fatherlessness.
This is about male entitlement and a culture that refuses to hold men accountable.
Stop blaming girls. Full stop.
2. Black Girls Are Told to Choose: Their Dignity or Their Loyalty
Last week I shared findings from Black Girls Matter: Pushed Out, Overpoliced, and Underprotected, a study by the African American Policy Forum and the Center for Intersectionality and Social Policy Studies.
Among its findings:
Black girls experience high rates of interpersonal violence.
And very few seek justice—because they already know what society thinks of them.
From my work with girls across Virginia and in Baltimore, I can tell you:
By the time many Black girls reach their teens, they’ve already chosen a side.
And it’s often not their own.
They’ll defend their brothers, cousins, neighbors—even when they’re the ones who caused the harm.
They’ll say:
“She was stupid.”
“She lied.”
“She wanted it.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
And honestly?
I used to wonder why.
Didn’t they see the after-school specials I grew up on? The ones about drugs, suicide, and abuse?
Turns out, no.
They’ve been learning from the culture around them.
And what it teaches them is simple:
People don’t care about girls who are sexually violated. And they care even less about brown girls.
3. From Victims to Inmates: The Pipeline Is Real
The week before, I shared another study:
The Sexual Abuse to Prison Pipeline.
It shows how girls—especially girls of color—are arrested and incarcerated at higher rates.
Not for violent crimes.
But for running away.
For skipping school.
For being angry.
For surviving.
I remember as a child, we called girls like that “fast.”
They were shamed, shunned, and cast aside.
Later, I learned that many of them had been victims of child sexual abuse.
And suddenly, all that judgment?
It hit different.
When these girls act out, they don’t pass therapists or safe adults.
They pass police.
They pass jail bars.
They fall through the cracks society dug for them.
In my work with incarcerated women, nearly every woman I’ve met has been violated at some point in her early life.
4. The Point Is This:
If a joke like that about Blue Ivy made it all the way to our screens—
If no one in the room stopped it—
If no one apologized afterward—
Then what hope do our daughters have when no one’s watching?
We must raise our voices.
Not in whispers.
Not in polite disagreement.
But in righteous boldness.
Because predators are bold.
So ignorance is bold.
So entertainment is bold.
And if we’re going to protect our girls—all of our girls—then truth-tellers, advocates, and survivors must be bold too.
Say it Loud for the People in the Back:
Sexual violence isn’t funny. Not now. Not ever.
And girls—especially Black girls—deserve more than blame.
They deserve protection.
They deserve truth.
They deserve to grow up free.