How a culture of silence and power leaves lasting scars and what we must do to protect the next generation of athletes
When people hear about abuse in sports, they often think of headlines and high-profile scandals. What they do not see is the quiet aftermath. The emotional wreckage lives on in locker rooms, dorm rooms, and therapy offices long after the headlines fade. Abuse in athletics does not end when the coach is fired or when the story goes public. It stays in the bodies, identities, and futures of survivors for years, sometimes for a lifetime.
As a survivor of sexual abuse within a college athletic program, I know how deep that pain can go. For many of us, our sport was more than a game. It was identity. It was the one place where we felt strong and confident. To be hurt in that space by someone we were taught to trust and respect shatters something beyond safety. It impacts how we see ourselves, how we trust others, and how we move forward.
In my own healing and through the stories of other survivors, one truth is clear. We often did not know where to turn. Speaking up came with risk. Athletes could lose their team, their scholarship, their future. Coaches held power. Institutions wanted protection, not accountability. The result was silence. Survivors were ignored. Perpetrators kept their positions. The cycle continued.
Abuse in sports is often quiet. It is hidden behind mentorship and favoritism. It is disguised by smiles and praise. Grooming happens long before anything is clearly wrong. By the time survivors question what is happening, they are often isolated and afraid to speak. Many blame themselves. Many stay silent for years. And when they do come forward, they face disbelief or dismissal.
The emotional toll is heavy. Athletes who experience abuse may struggle with anxiety, depression, PTSD, eating disorders, or self-harm. Some leave their sport entirely and lose a piece of who they were. While the world moves on, survivors are left to rebuild their lives in private, often without the support they deserve.
This is why advocacy matters. This is why I continue to speak. We need trauma-informed policies, real accountability, and environments that put athlete safety first. We need to stop asking why survivors waited to come forward and start asking what made it so unsafe to speak in the first place.
To every athlete who has experienced abuse, I want you to know that I believe you. You are not weak. You are not broken. You are not alone. There is life after silence and healing after hurt. You deserve to feel safe, supported, and whole again.
Change takes time. But every story shared, every truth spoken, and every survivor who finds their voice brings us closer to a world where athletes are protected and believed.
Let us keep going. Together.