The fact that Dolores Huerta kept secret for six decades the rape and sexual abuse she suffered from César Chávez comes as no surprise to those who work with victims – and survivors themselves, including in Modesto and the Valley.
“It hurts so much to talk about,” said Christine Nguyen, CEO of My Sister’s House, which provides safe harbor for domestic and sexual violence survivors in Sacramento. “Rehashing all that trauma – sometimes the soul and body cannot handle the pain.”
Chávez sexually abused girls and women around the time he and Huerta founded the United Farm Workers labor movement in the 1960s, a New York Times investigation alleged earlier in March. After two encounters, Huerta gave birth to two children raised by others, the nearly 96-year-old confirmed in a post.
Experts and advocates for sexual abuse survivors say the decision to speak out takes time.
Victims of childhood sexual abuse typically disclose what happened decades later — the average age is 52, according to Child USA, a University of Pennsylvania group advocating for laws protecting youths.
Reasons for delays include self-blame and not recognizing that the abuse was criminal, according to MeToo movement research by Harvard’s Shorenstein Center on Media, Politics and Public Policy.
Science Direct, an online health platform, compiled other studies and found more explanations, including fear of being reprimanded or damaging family relationships. Survivors also hesitate coming forward because they anticipate negative reactions from those they confide in.
Finding the resolve to say, ‘I actually matter, too’
In Huerta’s case, she knew that disclosing Chávez’s abuse could mar the movement they labored long to build, to help farmworkers – another vulnerable part of society.
“A person in power has power over what other reasonable folks believe about them, so they’ve groomed not just a child but an entire community,” Jennifer Roach Lees told The Modesto Focus.
She was sexually abused as a teen by a youth pastor at Modesto’s then-First Baptist Church in the 1980s, won a settlement decades later and now is a licensed therapist helping, among others, abuse survivors.
“A victim already feels bad about themself, no way they would bring forward a charge against a charismatic, well-liked person,” Roach Lees continued. “That’s a dynamic that just doesn’t happen.”
From 60% to 80% of people abused as children bury the secret until adulthood, according to National Library of Medicine research. Plenty eventually share once the busyness of raising a family or establishing a career subsides, Roach Lees said, “and they find the inner resolve to say, `Wait a minute; I actually matter, too.’”
She summoned that resolve herself during the MeToo movement along with thousands of others until realizing they were far from alone. The movement went viral in 2017, toppling dozens in positions of power.
MeToo didn’t motivate everyone suffering in silence
Even though many survivors saw MeToo as an opportunity to come forward, it would still take several years and a major media investigation for Huerta to speak her truth.
Logic dictates that others, anywhere and everywhere, are suffering in silence still. That comes despite the immediate public rebuke of Chavez’s legacy, including Gov. Newsom renaming César Chávez Day to Farmworkers Day. And Modesto City Hall calling for public suggestions on renaming César E. Chávez Park; ideas can submitted online for the city’s culture commission to consider.
Nguyen, with the Sacramento shelter, said despite her advocacy, she’s still reluctant to talk publicly about abuse she suffered long ago.
“I will take a sexual assault experience probably to my grave, because everyone in the community loves him,” she said. “How do you be that person, to blow up the other person’s family and connection to the community? I understand how it takes decades to talk, because it’s never the right time.”
Unfortunately, “unless barriers to disclosure are eradicated, negative effects can persist, manifesting in serious mental health issues,” a National Library of Medicine whitepaper says, including diminished self-esteem, depression and suicidal thoughts.
“The trauma doesn’t go away with time,” Roach Lees agreed. “It’s never too late to talk with a trusted friend or professional, if you feel it’s still gnawing at you.”
Creating safe spaces for sexual abuse survivors
Society owes victims a listening ear, said May Rico, executive director of the Haven, which supports abuse survivors in Stanislaus County.
“So long as we continue to uphold the dynamic that men with power are allowed to do what they do without accountability,” she said, “there will never be a safe space for women to come forward.”
Nguyen said, “We innocently ask why it took so long (to disclose). If we always ask that question first, we’ll never beat the issue down. We have to make an environment for victims to come forth. We need to make it OK for people to talk about it.”
The Haven posted a message on its website not long after The New York Times let the world know about Chávez’s abuse. It reads in part:
“We must do better and we know what that looks like.
“It looks like believing survivors the first time.
“It looks like refusing to protect a legacy at the cost of a person’s truth.
“It looks like building a world where no one is ever forced to choose between justice and survival.”
The National Domestic Violence Hotlineis 800-799-7233. In Modesto, the Haven crisis hotline is 209-577-5980.
Garth Stapley is the accountability reporter for The Modesto Focus, a project of the nonprofit Central Valley Journalism Collaborative. Contact him at garth@themodestofocus.org.