Interview: Alison Turkos on Survivor Storytelling
"When survivors are told that sharing our stories makes us 'brave' it implies we weren’t brave before."
Just a heads up that this interview deals with issues of sexual assault & violence.
Alison Turkos is an activist and advocate, and basically an all-around wonder. I first met Alison through the reproductive justice movement in New York and her work with abortion funds.
You may know Alison, though, because for the past few years she’s been sharing her experience as a survivor of sexual assault: In 2017, Alison was kidnapped at gunpoint by a Lyft driver and gang raped. In 2018, she started to speak out—holding the NYPD and Lyft to account for their lack of adequate response. Today, she works with survivors who are preparing to share their own experiences publicly.
Part of that work is the Survivor Storytelling Survey: Alison is collecting experiences of other survivors who have shared their stories, and using that data to create recommendations for organizations, the media, and others. Her hope, she says, is that the project will help ensure survivors are able share their stories without feeling isolated or exploited.
Below is a condensed version of our Q&A. You can follow Alison on Twitter and Instagram, and participate in the survey here.
For those who are unfamiliar, can you explain what survivor storytelling is?
Survivor storytelling, to me, is a survivor stepping into their power and making the decision to share their story. No one is speaking on their behalf. The survivor is deciding what details to share, who they wish to share it with, they’re surrounded by love and support. Storytelling means the survivor telling the story has agency and autonomy, they’re an active participant and truly being heard. Storytelling allows the survivor to include their full and authentic self.
This survey was also inspired from seeing my dear friend, Renee Bracey Sherman, and the phenomenal work she’s doing through her organization We Testify. Renee, and all of the We Testify abortion storytellers, have paved the way for storytelling and culture shift.
You wrote in a tweet that survivors are often told to “be brave” - what impact do you think that has on them?
I think when survivors are told that sharing our stories makes us “brave” it implies we weren’t brave before. When people tell me I’m brave it can sometimes feel like something degrading and horrifying had to happen in order for me to be brave. And that bravery only exists for other people's amusement.
Do you think that message that survivors need to be brave has a broader impact on the culture as well?
I am fearful that if we box survivors into having to always “be brave” or “put on a brave face” it doesn’t allow space for the magnitude of emotions survivors experience. I’m fearful “be brave” is yet another piece in the perfect victim narrative puzzle. Be brave, but not too much where it looks like you’re bragging. Be brave, but don’t forget to also be emotional - but not TOO emotional where it looks like you don’t have your life together, etc...
In the survey, you have a few questions about the terms ‘victim’ and ‘survivor’ - why do you think different people identify with different terms and what kind of language do you think the media & public should be using?
I read the piece by Danielle Campoamor titled “I'm Not a Sexual Assault ‘Survivor’—I'm a Victim” in 2018 and it has never left me. It was one of the first times I remember being truly seen, and it reminded me I’m allowed to identify however the hell I want.
I personally identify as both a survivor and victim. I feel like a survivor the days I feel like a badass, and I can conquer anything, the days it feels like maybe I’m actually surviving. Then there are days, or weeks, I don’t leave the house or my bed. It takes everything in me to respond to a text from my best friend letting her know I’m alive. Those days, I don’t feel like a survivor, I feel like a shell of a human.
I think the media and public, when possible, should be mirroring the language someone uses. When that’s not possible I like to use both, either survivor-victim or survivor/victim.
How do you think survivor’s stories are used right now by the media, pop culture, etc - where do we need improvement?
Regarding the media, I think it depends on the specific outlet or journalist you’re working with. I’ve had some really wonderful experiences with folks in the press and I’ve had some truly horrific experiences.
I think the media and pop culture often forget that with every “brave” story of harassment, sexual assault, and harm there is a person, or multiple people, behind it. It feels like when survivors share our stories the media takes all the oxygen out of the room and people forget about the survivor-victim. The spotlight is on the person who perpetrated harm, their photo is everywhere (which can be VERY triggering), and the harm is at the center. Notice how you rarely see or hear the names of the survivors used. You’ll see “three women have accused” or “a woman has come forward”, and their entire identity is gone. Or, the only identity the media cares about is the past they’re excavating for public consumption. The victims and survivors are never whole people to the media and in pop culture.
We also need improvement in whose stories we are hearing. The media and pop culture place more value and believability on white, cis gender, heterosexual victims and survivors.
What kind of support would have helped you when you started telling your story?
I wish I had a survivor who had experienced speaking to the press, which is why I will talk to and work with any survivor today. I am incredibly lucky that I have close friends who are communication experts, journalists, and storytellers. They offered me advice and support that helped me in immeasurable ways. However, there is something incredibly specific in being a trauma survivor, with severe PTSD, and boundary setting issues having to say “NO” to a reporter.
The day the story was published I had a lot of folks in my community say “I’m so sorry, I had no idea” or “why didn’t you tell me?” and I’d offer advice to folks that a response like that centers you, not the person who experienced harm. Something like “I’m so sorry this happened. I love you, I support you, I’m here for you” might be better.
Survivors aren’t a monolith, and everyone needs something different - but what are broad recommendations you’d give to people who are looking to be more supportive to survivors who are sharing their stories?
Understand that trauma changes a person. I always remind folks that my trauma has changed me down to the marrow of my bones. I think if more people understood this it would help them to better understand the survivors in their lives. Why sometimes we might be the life of the party, and then we might disappear for a few days because depression hits us like a wave and it can feel impossible to breathe.
Remember that when someone shares their story it’s a real life, lived experience. Sometimes stories can be hard to hear, I understand that. Please remember that if someone's story is hard to hear, they have to survive in order to tell you.
Click here to participate in Alison’s survey.
Interviews like these will usually only be for paid subscribers, but I wanted to share Alison’s work with as many people as possible. To support All in Her Head, please consider becoming a subscriber.
I was recently saying that I had no problem with people pitying me when my husband died and left me broke, bereft, traumatized and homeless. I’m not too good for pity. And I’m not too proud for victimhood. Yes, I’ve been sexually harassed and assaulted, and I’m both a victim and a survivor. I thank the people who took pity on me when I needed it, and I don’t need approval from people who thought I was brave when I picked myself up. If anything, I’m too proud for approval. I don’t survive so that people can pat me on the head. I write and illustrate about my experiences because I hope to help other people make sense of their own experiences, and feel less alone. My writing is meant to recreate the sisterhood that we lost when we all began cooking and cleaning in our own private little worlds, instead of meeting at the market or at the river, or at the village oven to exchange stories and knowledge with our fellow women from multiple generations. And my survival makes me equal to everyone, not better or lesser. So, please just treat me like anyone else, or perhaps treat everyone else with a little more empathy and respect?
I have some very similar thoughts on "strong" and "resilient". Labels can act as a barrier to support (because if you are brave you must be "over it") while also centring the view of the receiver of the story (who cannot imagine going through any thing like that).