I am a writer, a musician, and a sexual abuse survivor. I have authored two books. I have made speeches and signed books at events in both Indiana and Illinois. I have written countless words on the subject of childhood sexual abuse.

But it seems no one is listening. 

OK, I get it. Childhood sexual abuse is no one’s idea of fun conversation. No one’s for it – anyone who tried to run for office on a platform of “Sexual Abuse of Children is a Great Idea” would lose, even now. At least I hope that’s still true. 

But it keeps happening. To at least one out of five children in America. Experts disagree on the exact numbers, but everyone agrees that they’re too high. Currently, there are as many as 42 million childhood sexual abuse survivors living and suffering in the land of the free. 

Would that be happening if people were listening? 

I was sexually abused by a family member between the ages of eight and fourteen. My mother would leave me at his house when she had errands or social commitments, because I wasn’t old enough to stay alone by myself. The only reason the abuse ended was that I finally became old enough to be left on my own.  

Over the years, as I pursued healing from this and other childhood trauma, I asked myself why I never told anyone what was happening. Experts have told me numerous times that the number one reason children don’t tell is the fear that they won’t be believed. I don’t even remember wondering if I should tell someone. With my stories, my imaginary friends? I already had a reputation as a child who made things up. Telling someone never even crossed my mind. 

As an adult who began understanding her memories and working on her healing at the ripe young age of forty, I had many opportunities to ponder the “Tell or Not Tell” question. I kept lists in my head for years: who knew and who didn’t. I never moved anyone from one list to another without long, careful consideration. I made some mistakes. I lost a client by confiding too much too soon. I made some of my old friends cry. I declined invitations to fundraisers I should have accepted. Even though it was always easier to tell new friends than it was to tell old ones, it never got easy.

I accepted some speaking engagements. I usually found myself sitting alone at my table afterwards, receiving some token thank-you’s and support before I left early. It always seemed that I was meeting needs other than my own. I have learned that podium time, at events, is a very scarce commodity. People may be listening – for about thirty seconds.  There’s a lot of competition for ear time at events. 

My writing about childhood sexual abuse, specifically, peaked during the years I was running Awakenings, a nonprofit that provides survivors of sexual violence with trauma-informed, inclusive art-making experience that encourages healing. I wrote for our literary magazine. I wrote fundraising appeals for Giving Tuesdays and other events and initiatives we put together. I was interviewed. I had another book signing. I wrote blog posts, newsletter articles, and book reviews. I wrote and wrote and wrote. I have no idea how many, if any, of those words found ears.  

These days, I write a lot of proposal requests and grant reviews, because I am one of the very few sexual abuse survivors lucky enough to have the financial resources to back up some of those words. I have a solid professional reputation as a corporate communicator, even though I left the for-profit field in the late ‘90s. I continue to post and blog, and write occasional memoir pieces, articles, and essays, for my own postings and those of other advocates in our mission area.   

And I ask myself every day if anyone is reading or listening. Because the abuse keeps happening, people keep finding their way to me to share their stories, and I can’t do nothing. I don’t know how to do nothing. 

So I write, and post, and podcast, and do everything within my power and with my resources to shed light on a huge and terrible issue no one wants to talk about. Is it any wonder I continue to ask myself if anyone’s listening? 

This piece was published on September 4, 2025. It was authored by Jean Cozier. 

Jean Cozier is a friend and supporter of CAASE who is also a writer and a sexual abuse survivor. Learn more about Jean’s ongoing advocacy work at jeancozier.com. 

Survivor Voices is a project from CAASE where we source and spotlight writing by survivors. Our goal is to uplift a diverse array of perspectives, voices, and stories, and cover a variety of topics survivors want to write about.  

If you are a survivor who would like to write a guest blog for Survivor Voices, please reach out to Lizzy Springer, Marketing & Communications Manager, at [email protected].