Editor’s note: This editorial discusses topics of sexual violence that may be triggering for some readers. If you or someone you know needs help, please contact The National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800-656-HOPE (4673), or reach out for support online: online.rainn.org and in Español: rainn.org/es.

Back in 1976, Jimmy Carter won the presidency against Gerald Ford. I was just 6 years old at the time.

It was a gloomy night, and I was lying in bed between my mother and her boyfriend while the election results aired on the TV placed on a chest of drawers. My mother was working the night shift at a plastics factory when I dozed off.

That night marked a tragic turning point; it was the night I was assaulted for the first time by a man my family trusted. He removed my pink flannel pajamas and abused me. I was crying, confused about what was happening.

This unfortunate event would occur repeatedly over the next eight years. Even after 48 years, that pain feels just as fresh.

This is incredibly difficult for me to articulate. I feel anxious and nauseous as I type. Reflecting on these memories is painful. In college, I attempted to write a story about it in a creative writing class—hoping that fiction might disguise the reality. I dropped the class after submitting just the first chapter; it was all too overwhelming.

My journey of survival reminds me that victims who experience unwanted pregnancies often face judgement and stigma. With current restrictions and the politicization surrounding abortion rights, many are stripped of their agency regarding a situation thrust upon them.

In a way, I was fortunate—I never became pregnant. I didn’t have to wrestle with the decision of whether to terminate a pregnancy or to bear my attacker’s child. I want to ensure no girl or woman loses that choice. If we don’t advocate for it, that right could disappear for even more individuals.

The abortion debate must acknowledge the realities of child sexual abuse

Observing the unfolding 2024 presidential election reinforces that, for many voters, this election revolves around women’s rights. Given this context, I felt compelled to share my story, including details I hadn’t previously disclosed. I fear for every girl enduring or facing such a traumatic experience.

Since the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in June 2022, countless women have lost the option for abortion. The Center for Reproductive Rights reports that 13 states have made abortion illegal since that decision.

I can picture a child, like I once was, forced to carry a pregnancy stemming from a traumatic assault. The struggles of becoming a teenage mother, compounded by the trauma of the assault itself, are unfathomable.

Almost half of all survivors of rape experienced their first assault as minors, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

The Children’s Assessment Center in Houston states that retrospective studies reveal that 1 in 4 women and 1 in 6 men were sexually assaulted before turning 18. This indicates there are over 42 million adult survivors of childhood sexual abuse in the U.S.

Research suggests that 73% of child abuse victims remain silent for at least a year, while 45% do not disclose their experiences for at least five years; tragically, some never speak up at all.

I am someone who, regrettably, held my story in until I was a teenager and didn’t open up to many family members until my 30s.

This election will shape the futures of girls like me who were abused

The memories I can’t recall haunt me, and I worry that my family may disapprove of me speaking out.

Recently, I discussed with my siblings and stepmother (who later adopted us; she didn’t give birth to any of us) about my decision to share my story widely. I was met with support from everyone.

I still vividly remember, at age 6, the way he reassured me that it was okay because he loved me. I understood that it was wrong and that this wasn’t true love. He was an adult, and society conditioned me to obey him.

I often questioned why this was happening to me, having deep conversations with God. I grew to think, “If this tragedy has to befall someone, it should be me.”

I can only speak for myself, but I envision that many young women and girls facing similar abuse may share that mindset. Why me?

It never crossed my mind that I could have faced an unwanted pregnancy until later on. The thought repulses me. This is why it’s unconceivable to mandate motherhood upon anyone, especially a young girl subjected to such trauma.

In sharing this, I hope that at least one person feels validated.

I share this to encourage others to think of individuals like me—those who were spared from making impossible choices, and those who are unable to choose today,

The potential consequences of the election could affect the choices available to some individuals.