The Impossible Choice

It's an incredibly difficult question, one that comes most often from a parent of a young adult survivor of sibling sexual abuse. It goes something like this [1]: “My daughter recently told me that her older brother sexually abused her when they were children. We knew the relationship had been difficult, but we had no idea anything that egregious was going on. We have supported her healing by paying for her therapy, respected her decision to cut contact with her brother and her wishes that we not mention him in her presence. Yet, she still feels betrayed that we are still keeping our own contact with her brother and his two small children. She says we need to choose between the two of them; that if we continue even minimal contact with him, she will go no contact with us. We want to support her, but it seems unfair not only to us but to our little grandchildren to go along with her request. What do we do?”

As a moderator in the 5WAVES Facebook group for parents of SSTA, I have witnessed parents’ anguished struggles with this heartbreaking quandary. But I lacked insight from the survivor’s perspective. So I posed the scenario above to a small group of women survivors, middle-aged and older, at a Blue Borage Conversation Cafe last fall. I wondered, is there any limit to parents prioritizing a survivor’s needs, especially when the sibling who harmed during their own childhood has matured, attempted to make amends, and is no longer displaying abusive attitudes or behavior?

I didn’t expect easy answers, and I didn’t get any. Below is a summary of the discussion that followed, offering some possible perspectives for parents to consider. Please note, this conversation did not include any viewpoints of survivors in younger adult generations, nor does it offer a prescription that can be applied to all circumstances.

All agreed that survivors’ choices about relationship, contact, or communication between themselves and their sibling should be respected and followed, full stop. This includes requests that the parent not share news or images of that sibling in the survivor’s presence, as well as requesting that their sibling not be present when the survivor is celebrating holidays and milestones. 

There was also agreement, within this small group, that parents should be allowed to make independent decisions about contact with their own children (including the child who caused harm) and any grandchildren they have by that child. Yet, they also acknowledged that navigating that path in the midst of long-carried trauma and righteous anger is rarely straightforward.

Some wondered, what was the context of the demand to cut contact with the brother? Was it a one-time exclamation in a heated moment, or presented as a carefully considered decision? Did the brother’s attitude and response (or lack of it) play any role? 

Some survivors recalled a stage in their own healing journey where their anger was raw and paramount, and their ability to reason or empathize with others was limited. Looking back, they could see that season of anger as necessary, but not permanent. 

For awhile, we pondered the question, what might be the unmet need underlying the younger daughter’s ultimatum? Might she be needing validation of the devastating extent of the trauma and betrayal her brother inflicted? Might she be yearning to trust that her parents value her own well-being above all else? Survivors, who have lived for years or decades in bodies that were not adequately protected during childhood, desperately need to be assured of support and protection. This requires more than a single acknowledgment or apology. It must come in the form of actions that are consistent with promises of support. Things like following up to check in on their welfare, or an attitude of curiosity and repeated invitations to talk about it more (but only if they wish to).  

Based on research with incest survivors, Judith Herman observed a that a craving for “relational justice," carried out by other family members, often outweighs the need for legal justice. Components of relational justice include having the whole truth told and believed, unequivocal condemnation of the behavior, and consequences delivered from within the family–particularly from parents, who are the natural arbiters of justice between siblings. [2] Survivors in the group mentioned these types of needs, and observed that the actions or words that might satisfy these needs for one person will not necessarily work for another.

It is possible that their adult daughter has needs that even she cannot identify, and until those needs are met, she will perceive her parents as unsupportive–even if they are doing everything in their power and imagination to provide not only emotional but practical support. It is also possible their daughter is carrying another level of undisclosed harm.

Given how trauma neurologically affects the ability to socially engage [3], becoming defensive or trying to gain sympathy for the parent’s plight is unlikely to help. The survivors participating in this discussion had lived long enough to recognize that feelings can change, healing is a journey, and what your child is demanding today may not reflect what they will need or want, years down the road. Yet, there is no way to look into the future and know with any certainty what the outcome of a given choice will be. These types of situations are extremely painful, for all involved.

In addition to what I have shared above from that particular discussion, I would like to add a few parting words, for those parents who have sincerely tried everything and are still faced with this impossible choice. 

1. This decision is yours alone. No one else has stood exactly where you are now, and no one else will have to live with the consequences in the same way you will.

2. Consider, which choice will allow you to move forward with the most self-respect still intact? 

3. If you end up ceasing contact or being told your child will cease contact, how you go about it can make a difference. If you decide to initiate, offer a clear explanation of the reason for ceasing contact. Try to settle on an avenue for communication to take place in an emergency, or to be re-started if circumstances change. This could be a mutually trusted third person (and alternate) or a designated mode of communication, to be used only in those circumstances. 

4. Your grief is real. 

5. You do not have to walk this journey alone. 5WAVES and our collaborators offer a variety of peer support options for parents of sibling sexual trauma and abuse. 

6. If you are having thoughts of suicide, there is help. You can start with 988 (US/Canada), 111 (UK), 13 11 14 (AU)

A word to therapists, advocates, and researchers:

The expectation for parents, siblings, or partners to cut contact with a family member who has sexually abused someone is not new or unusual. However, sibling sexual trauma and abuse includes unique nuances that must be recognized and navigated. There is a dire need for research to better understand long-term outcomes of family estrangement decisions, both overall and in the specific context of SSTA. Parents in our 5WAVES Facebook SSTA parent support group have noted needs for a) therapists serving parents of SSTA to educate them on childhood sexual trauma and how it still influences their adult child’s nervous system and relationship skills; b) therapists supporting survivors to better understand the processing and challenges facing parents of SSTA, and provide anticipatory guidance for their clients, and c) finding ways to offer integrated services for multiple family members. Despite the challenges, we hope these might improve outcomes for everyone when disclosure happens during adulthood–which is by far the most common scenario. [4]

The consequences of going no-contact with any family member are major and long-term, for all involved. Empirical research on the welfare of those who have chosen to estrange from a family member is limited, but effects that have been documented so far include social isolation, depression, anxiety, insomnia, and low self-esteem. [5] There are moments in the therapeutic journey, individual or family, where the therapist is the only one in the room with a functioning prefrontal cortex, able to rationally consider options and consequences and guide their clients to a place where they can do so. The costs, options, risks and benefits of estrangement deserve to be carefully examined, before choosing to take any irreversible action. 

[1] hypothetical example, based on actual inquiries; brother and sister were chosen for the example to make discussions in the blog more clear through use of “she” and “he” pronouns, but we remind the reader that SSTA can take place with any gender combination of siblings

[2] Judith Herman, Truth and Repair

[3] Stephen Porges, The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation

[4] 5waves.org/whatdoweknow 

[5] Cornell Family Estrangement and Reconciliation Project

The Cost of Coming Forward (And Why I’m Glad I Did It Anyway)

Nubia DuVall Wilson

Survivors of incest abuse or sibling sexual trauma/abuse are often asked some version of the same question: Why didn’t you say something sooner? As if it’s that simple and disclosure automatically = being believed, supported and comforted—but it does not.

For Black women, it’s rarely that simple. We’re not just weighing whether to tell our truth to our family and inner circles, we’re also evaluating everything that truth could cost. And if your brain repressed your memories like mine did, you may not recall that abuse until there’s a “triggering event” that reveals them.

What we Black women are often contemplating is at stake if we divulge our incest abuse:

• Protecting the family name because “our business is none of their business.”

• Protecting Black men from systems that already target them — even when those men have hurt us.

• Avoiding stereotypes about Black families that a racist society is all too happy to amplify.

• Generational messaging that says what happens at home stays at home.

• The expectation to be strong, unconditionally forgive, move on, and not make it a whole thing.

We are often the last ones given permission to fall apart — or to reveal the truth about our pain (emotional and physical). The more I share my story, the more Black women send me DMs saying: me too — usually followed by but I could never say it publicly, so thank you for speaking out. Healing is hard, it’s worse in isolation, and community changes everything.

Speaking of community…on June 23 I attended Sibling Sexual Abuse & Trauma: Breaking the Silence, the first conference of its kind in America. SSTA Survivors, caregivers, advocates, clinicians and researchers from around the world gathered to discuss one of the most under-discussed yet prevalent categories of child sexual abuse. Fast forward, and I am still reflecting on our big successful day! I want to define that success from my perspective, because it will look different to each person who attended—and that’s okay. For me, as an organizer, sponsor and survivor, these are my two big takeaways:

Being visible: I realized a few years ago that being seen and heard without judgment were two of the strongest love languages of mine. When two SSTA survivors look at one another, the energy exchanged feels like: “I know what you’ve been through and I SEE you,” without any words being spoken. That energy exchange helps our long healing journey after experiencing so much pain during childhood.

IRL Interactions: Social media, email and Zooms are great, but they are nothing compared to receiving a loving hug from a survivor or supporter in person. I felt at peace during the conference (in-between the heart palpitations ensuring all was running smoothly behind the scenes, ha ha!). The insightful breakout sessions, camaraderie felt among the attendees, and instant connections were a gift that I will never forget.

Nubia DuVall Wilson is a published poet, author, entrepreneur and anti-incest activist. Her PR company, Cielo Consulting, was a sponsor of the SSTA: Breaking the Silence conference, with Nubia serving as event planner. This was only one of many ways she works to break through the silence around the high prevalence of child sexual abuse in America and the long-term effects—especially among Black women who are often the most silent. Follow her substack on @Unsilienced  Learn more at nubiaduvall.com, follow on IG and TikTok

Reflection: When silence becomes an answer

When sibling sexual trauma or abuse (SSTA) becomes known, it is all too common that extended family members do not come out in support of the sibling who was harmed, whether they are still a child or now an adult. This reflection, from a parent of SSTA, illustrates the yearning for family support, and the devastating choices that the author took to support her daughter when that support was lacking.

Looking back, I no longer see our family’s silence as uncertainty.

At the time, I waited for understanding. I believed that once people grasped the reality of what my daughter had endured, they would instinctively move toward her, placing her safety above everything else.

That is not what happened.

Silence is often mistaken for neutrality. It isn’t. Silence has direction. It leaves the injured person standing alone while everyone else quietly steps back.

I came to understand that our paths had diverged. Some people held onto hope that time, forgiveness, or reconciliation would restore what had been lost. I hoped for something entirely different.

I hoped for safety.

Those hopes could never occupy the same space.

Looking back, I no longer see the silence as confusion. I see it as clarity. It revealed who could bear the truth of what had happened—and who could not.

That realization was painful, but it was also freeing. From that point forward, I stopped looking for validation from those who could not see what was right in front of them. My responsibility was no longer to persuade others.

It was to protect my daughter.