This is the first guest post for “inspire: personal stories”. It was submitted by Kathryn, of Daring Young Mom. Thank you Kathryn! If you’d like to write a guest post, please view the guidelines under “what is inspire?”.

She responded to an ad I placed on campus, asking for survivors of rape or sexual assault willing to share their stories on film. She was timid at first but willing to entertain the possibility.

After a few conversations, she chose to do the interview, sharing how she had been betrayed by someone she trusted, how what started out as a pleasant evening had turned into the worst night of her life. She confided in me and in my crew. Through me, she shared her most personal experiences with thousands of strangers.

She chose to be filmed with her face showing, to stand up and say, “This happened to me. It was not my fault. If it happens to you, it’s not your fault either.” These were things no one had told her. These were things she had to learn the hard way, as she reconstructed her self image over time.

We were sloppy. We needed to re-shoot portions of her interview. She returned, seemingly unfazed, and again relived her nightmare in front of the cameras.

We hired an actress to play her and recreated that horrible night. For several months, she worked with us on the film to help survivors of rape and sexual assault get the assistance they needed. With her help, I completed my senior film project and learned a whole new language for dealing with this issue. She made me a stronger and more compassionate person.

Wanting to do more, she also started a rape advocacy program to get women support quickly and with as little effort on their part as possible. Composed and tireless, she amazed me with her efforts.

Shortly after the project was completed, I heard a knock at my door. When I opened it, there stood Emily. In her hand she held flowers and a note for me.

The note was a short and sincere thank you for everything I had done to help her and other women struggling with this type of violation. She thanked me for helping her heal, when I felt like what I had done was repeatedly tear open her wounds for the sake of the project.

If I deserved flowers and a thank you note for that, she deserved something more than I could ever give. And she had it. She has it. And every single day she gives it away to others.

–Kathryn, the DYM