OUR "WHY"

Board Member 1 Survivor Story:

Throughout my childhood, violence was something I witnessed and experienced regularly. I thought it was normal because I didn’t know anything different. As a teenager, I experienced sexual assault and attempted sexual assaults, but I stayed silent. I believed I was the one who should feel ashamed instead of the people who hurt me.

That mindset followed me into adulthood and into the relationships I chose. I experienced emotional, physical, sexual, and financial abuse—sometimes one, sometimes all at once. Domestic violence also took someone I loved deeply. My cousin, who was like a little sister to me, was murdered by the man who had promised to love and cherish her. Her children were left without their mother, and my entire family was left with a loss that can never truly be filled. That tragedy reinforced what I already knew firsthand: abuse doesn’t just affect one person. Its impact ripples through families and entire communities.

It wasn’t until I finally escaped that environment that I began to heal and rediscover who I was. However, leaving physically did not mean the abuse immediately ended. I experienced years of financial and legal struggles that showed me how control can continue even after someone finds the strength to leave. These experiences gave me a deeper understanding of the challenges many survivors face when trying to rebuild their lives, regain stability, and protect the people they love. Navigating those challenges, including advocating for my children and ensuring their voices were heard, became another part of my journey toward healing and empowerment.

I grieved for my younger self and everything she endured in silence. I never cried when I was young because I believed showing pain was weakness. Once I reclaimed my life, I allowed myself to feel, to heal, and then to rebuild.

Martial arts, and later boxing, became a turning point. I grew physically stronger, learned skills that could save my life, and realized that technique—not size—creates strength. But the greatest transformation wasn’t physical. My confidence returned. I found a community that had my back, experienced genuine respect, and felt safe for the first time. Watching my children experience that same growth made it even more meaningful.

I believe confidence is one of the most powerful tools for breaking the cycle of abuse. When you know your worth, set healthy boundaries, and refuse to be ruled by fear, you become harder to control. It doesn’t make you invincible, but it reminds you that you are capable, resilient, and deserving of people who respect and support you.

I started this organization because I want every survivor to have the opportunity to discover that same strength and independence. I want to make the experience that changed my life accessible to others. Ending cycles of abuse and generational trauma starts one person at a time. Every person who heals changes their family, their community, and the generations that follow.

This organization is my passion project. My hope is that it becomes a support system as survivors rediscover themselves and their future—an alliance that stands beside them as they overcome obstacles and reclaim their lives. No one should have to make that journey alone.

Board Member 2 Survivor Story:

At the age of 14, my virginity was forcefully taken from me. To say I was a different child after that is an understatement.

At the time, I didn’t even realize how deeply it had affected me. I forced myself to push it into the back of my mind and never told anyone because I was terrified of the threats that had been made to me if I spoke up. So I stayed quiet.

That silence followed me.

As I got older, I found myself in unhealthy relationships with men who did not treat me the way I deserved to be treated. Eventually, I became trapped in an abusive relationship for nine years.

I was manipulated and made to feel like I was crazy. He manipulated some of my family members into believing that I was the problem. I lost friendships because his abuse isolated me for so long. I couldn’t leave the house without being interrogated, and when I returned home, I was questioned, scolded, accused, and put down for things I had never done.

When I tried to end the relationship, he had me arrested and put in jail based on false allegations. Even then, members of my own family believed him.

I started seeing a therapist, and for the first time, I began to understand just how unhealthy and abusive the relationship had become. But eventually, he manipulated his way into couples therapy. Once again, I watched as someone else was convinced that I was the problem.

It felt like there was no way to keep him out of my life.

Even after the relationship finally ended, the abuse didn’t end with it. It followed me into future relationships with good men. I couldn’t trust anyone. I questioned good intentions. I would end relationships before someone had the opportunity to hurt me, manipulate me, or abuse me again.

As time passed, he eventually found his way back into my head and my life. This time, he was a married man—something he conveniently kept from me. He pressured me to do things I didn’t want to do and made me feel guilty when I refused. When his wife was eventually contacted and told what was happening, he threatened me with a lawsuit.

Once again, he tried to make me the bad one.

But abuse has affected my life in other devastating ways, too.

A loved family member and her precious son were murdered just one month after her divorce was finalized. To this day, I still find myself asking why.

Why take the life of someone so genuine, caring, and kind?

Why take the life of an innocent, sweet little child?

There will never be an answer that makes that loss make sense.

Then there was my big brother. While he had struggles of his own, he found himself in an unhealthy relationship that seemed to have such a hold on him that he couldn’t let go. Watching what was happening brought back so many feelings from my own past—the anger, helplessness, and heartbreak of knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make someone I loved see what I could see.

That relationship changed him in ways that were incredibly painful to witness.

Eventually, my brother took his own life.

These are not the only experiences with domestic violence, sexual assault, and interpersonal violence that have touched my life, but they are experiences that have affected me deeply and will always be a part of my story.

But they are not where my story ends.

I believe in Sovereign Stance Alliance.

I believe we can make a difference in people’s lives. I believe we can help survivors rediscover their strength, their voice, and their sense of self. I believe education, support, empowerment, and self-defense can give someone tools they may not have known they had.

Most of all, I hope we can reach people before they find themselves at a point where it is too late.

I cannot change what happened to me or bring back the people I have lost. But I can take everything those experiences taught me—the pain, the anger, the grief, and the strength it took to keep going—and use it to help someone else.

If Sovereign Stance Alliance helps even one person recognize abuse sooner, find their voice, regain their confidence, or realize they have options, then something meaningful can grow from everything that once made me feel powerless.

That is why I believe in this mission.

That is why I chose to be part of Sovereign Stance Alliance.

Board Member 3 Survivor Story:

Violence entered my life when I was a child. So did sexual abuse. Those experiences were not confined to childhood; as an adult, I experienced sexual assault and domestic violence as well.

I don’t share that because those experiences define me. They don’t. I share it because they shaped what I had to learn afterward.

For years, I asked, Why me? Eventually, I started asking a different question: Why not me? Why would I be the exception? And if I cannot control another person’s decision to harm me, why wouldn’t it be my responsibility to learn everything I reasonably can about taking care of myself?

That distinction became incredibly important to me. Responsibility for violence belongs entirely to the person who chooses violence. Responsibility for my future belongs to me.

I am a systems person. I work in technology and information, and I live for evidence-based solutions. I look for patterns, vulnerabilities and places where systems fail. Eventually, I began looking at personal safety the same way.

Self-defense became much larger than physical defense.

It became situational awareness. Boundaries. Preparation. Eye contact. Speaking with conviction. Recognizing manipulation. Trusting what I notice instead of explaining it away. Knowing that “No.” is a complete sentence.

And understanding something I now tell people frequently:

You are not obligated to live up to anybody’s expectations except your own.

None of these things are magical armor. Confidence cannot guarantee safety, and no victim is responsible for another person’s violence. But awareness, boundaries, preparation and decisive communication give us more information, more tools and more options.

Options matter.

Today, I can be compassionate without surrendering myself. I can understand someone without granting them unlimited access to me. I can disappoint someone without abandoning myself to make them comfortable.

I wish I had learned those things much earlier.

Because sometimes self-defense begins long before anyone raises a hand.

Sometimes it begins with lifting your eyes. Sometimes it begins with trusting what you already noticed. Sometimes it begins with saying “No.” and refusing to explain.

For me, it ultimately came down to one realization:

I belong to myself.

That is Sovereignty