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My mom physically abused me in front of students and a handful of teachers at my school when I was 14. I told them I had been being abused at home for as long as I could remember. Everyone refused to believe me.
Once as a kid I cried so loud people walking by outside came to knock on the door to see if everything was ok. Everyone refused to believe me.
I showed up at my neighbor’s house late one night, barefoot, battered, and drenched head to toe. My mom had thrown me out in the pouring, freezing rain to “teach me a lesson.” I was cold and scared and knocked on my neighbor’s door for help. Everyone still refused to believe me.
I told my high school boyfriend’s parents I was being abused. They told me my mom would never do that and that rich people don’t have problems. Everyone still refused to believe me.
I had to go stay with a friend one night. For my safety, I didn’t have time to take any belongings. I showed up at school in the same clothes as before, without a backpack, my laptop, or anything else. I got in trouble for not being prepared. Everyone still refused to believe me.
Claudia Conway’s brother says she’s lying. When I came forward about my abuse my freshman year of high school, my brother told all my classmates I was lying for attention. My boyfriend broke up with me over it. Everyone still refused to believe me.
I stayed silent for a long time after that. Confessing to being abused wasn’t enough to make people believe me; being abused in front of people’s own eyes wasn’t enough to make them believe me. So why should I even try?
I promise you this: no victim of abuse comes forward for attention. Nobody willingly puts themselves in the public eye, where they know they will be judged and shunned and blamed and not believed, just to get attention or to seek revenge.
When I finally found the courage to come forward about my abuse, I STILL had people who didn’t believe me. People at my college who had never met my mom said I was lying. Coming forward was liberating, but it was also hell. I lost a lot of people who I thought were my friends.
If you have the liberty of being able to assume Claudia Conway is lying about her abuse, you’ve likely not been abused by your mom. And while I’m happy you’ve never lived through that horror, it disqualifies you from passing judgment on who is capable of abusing someone else.
I don’t care if you think Kellyanne Conway couldn’t be capable of abusing someone. That’s what everyone said about my mom, too.
Believe survivors of maternal abuse.
Believe survivors of maternal abuse.
