Think about a time someone practiced being brave with you.
Not the kind of bravery we often see in Marvel movies. I mean the quieter kind, when someone listens and believes you. Not to fix it, but to witness the harm you were subjected to. That kind of bravery stays with us. Witnessing with care will never erase harm, but it can remind survivors like me that we are not alone.
At 13, I experienced such bravery at a YWCA-led workshop on gender-based violence held at a national Girl Guides of Canada gathering in Guelph, Ontario. I randomly chose it. I slid into the circle quietly as the two YWCA staff members discussed sexism. Listening to them, my heart started to pound like a morning alarm you cannot shut off. My mind made connections there, thanks to them. Finally, there was language to describe my everyday experience of inequality, stereotypes, and harm. Most importantly, it gave shape to something I knew was happening to me, but could not yet name to anyone: child sexual abuse.
The bravery of those YWCA facilitators in creating a space for girls to learn helped me figure out ways to be safer. The person who harmed me always told me to keep it between us, a secret. So, after the workshop, I started slowly; I told myself what was happening. Sometimes, we are the safest and hardest people to tell. I was scared of what would happen if I told anyone else. And I am not alone in that. A 2019 report from Statistics Canada found that many survivors fear not being taken seriously. One in five victims of sexual assault in Canada experience victim-blaming or are made to feel responsible for what happened to them.
When I did tell people in authority, teachers and family, that I was being sexually abused, I was terrified not just of the words leaving my mouth, but of how they would be heard. I feared disbelief, judgment, and shame. And unfortunately, I was not wrong.
The first reactions when I disclosed were fear, denial and blame.
How we respond to disclosures can profoundly impact a survivor’s healing, including whether it feels safe to tell. Those early responses confirmed my greatest fears. I thought it was my fault, that I should have stayed quiet, and that maybe I was overreacting.
But I was not. And if you are reading this and experiencing something similar, I want you to know: it is not your fault. I believe you. You are not alone.
Thanks to publicly funded libraries, I found books like Our Bodies, Ourselves and Listen Up: Voices From the Next Feminist Generation, and writers like Audre Lorde and Maya Angelou. Their bravery helped me begin to understand what I had been subjected to as child. Each reminded me that the burden of sexual abuse was not mine to carry.
Inspired by their wisdom, I started writing and created Soar, a zine for survivors. It included stories, reflections, and the BRAVE Model©: Five Simple Steps to Support a Survivor.
I co-organized shows with friends in community centre basements, raising funds for local rape crisis centres and distributing Soar to my peers. Between sets, I would grab the mic and talk about sexual violence, including the BRAVE Model©. I wanted my peers to know how to show up for each other, especially when someone said, “This happened to me.”
Over the past 25 years, the BRAVE Model© has grown far beyond those zine pages and punk shows. It has been used in post-secondary institutions, youth programs, sports organizations, and government departments. I have trained over 100,000 students in the BRAVE Model© and have shared it everywhere from high school classrooms to the G7 Summit, where I called on world leaders to take action on sexual violence.
Being BRAVE is a practice.
It means choosing presence over performance.
It means listening without judgment or needing every detail.
It means offering empathy without hesitation.
Being BRAVE is the recognition that it is not about if someone will disclose to you. It is when. I was leading a workshop for a union, where a manager shared, “I have worked in leadership for 25 years and not once has someone disclosed an incident of sexual harassment or assault.”
I gently asked him, “Did you create the conditions that made it safe for someone to tell you?”
It is not that survivors are not disclosing. Many constantly calculate the risks of being unheard, blamed, or dismissed. Being BRAVE means creating an environment where people feel safe enough to be vulnerable, where silence is not mistaken for the absence of harm. Our role is to create the conditions that make it safe for survivors to speak. We must be the kind of people who listen and believe. We are not to fix it, but to witness their pain alongside them. What the acronym, BRAVE, stands for illustrates this approach clearly.
Begin by Listening/Believe
Respect
Ask
Validate
Empathize
Through my work as a counsellor, educator and advocate, I have also learned that disclosure is not a one-time event. Disclosing looks different for everyone. Our social location, including, but not limited to, race, class, gender, sexuality, ability, and citizenship status, impacts how we are targeted for, heal from and access justice as survivors. I saw this as a peer educator in Toronto high schools, as a therapist supporting women who had been subjected to sexual and gender-based violence, and while leading a national framework to address campus sexual violence across Canada.
Yet, in every setting, there was a universal truth: survivors want to be witnessed by a friend, family member, co-worker, or themselves.
To be heard without judgment.
To be supported without hesitation.
According to Statistics Canada (2019), there were approximately 940,000 incidents of sexual assault in Canada, yet only six percent were reported to police. These numbers are not just statistics. They are people in our communities that we know, love, and cherish.
In May, I was honoured to be named one of YWCA Toronto’s 2025 Women of Distinction. This recognition holds deep meaning for me. YWCA Toronto is an incredible feminist organization whose staff, shelters, programs and services, administration, and advocacy, bear witness to the pain, strength, and resilience of women, girls, and gender diverse people. YWCA Toronto embodies what it means to meet survivors with care, not judgment.
We all benefit when we center listening, believing, and care. Being brave is not a one-time action; it is a practice where we choose to show up for each other out loud.
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Farrah Khan is an award-winning advocate, speaker, and artist who has been advancing systems change for 25 years. As founder of the consultancy Possibility Seeds, she brings transformational expertise in consent education, policy, advocacy, and cultural strategy. Her work is built on hope, equity and joy.