Like Simone, I speak out for abuse victims who cannot

When I decided to speak up about my own experiences as a victim of abuse, I was quickly labelled as someone who could not have a conversation or write a blog post without “bringing it up”.

So when I watched an interview with Simone Biles on one of the US daytime talk shows, and I heard her say that she hesitated coming forward because she wanted to be known as Simone the gymnast not Simone the sexual abuse survivor. I felt that. Her four Olympic gold medals, my three, suddenly become a topic of discussion after the topic. Our sporting achievements recast as the supporting act.

Maybe, if you are listening, you will ask or hear what that was like. To prepare all that time, making sacrifices that you hope will inch you closer to success. Trying to check every box so that when you step on the runway, you still are not sure if you will win but you are damn sure you are prepared.

Simone’s abuse is different from the abuse that I suffered. It is important to acknowledge, and also important not to compare. That is another sinister thing about abuse, we internalise a shamesilence-share spectrum when survivors start speaking up. We decide where our experience falls on the spectrum and scrutinise whether our experience was “as bad as that, equal to that, or not so bad”. And we use that faulty scale to decide if it is worth sharing.

This is why, against our natural instinct as athletes to internalise, we speak up. Because somebody, somewhere is going through something that does not feel right, but who is not completely sure it rises to the level of abuse. Simone and I both made that calculation.

In my case Safesport and USA Track and Field (although far from flawless in its execution) did try to make me feel like my safety mattered. Whereas in the case of Simone, there were hundreds of women who suffered at the hands of Larry Nassar. And in refusing to investigate, or in actively covering up complaints, Michigan State and US Gymnastics were seemingly complicit. Simone and the others were let down by so many.

How does a happy, bubbly teenager like Simone maintain excellence alongside the man who is abusing her, dressed in the same team kit? What is it like to see your trusted coaches huddled together with the “doctor” to discuss your treatment? What is it like, to bring home medal after medal, recordbreaking performance after performance for your country… and the federation you are bringing glory to has made the calculation to leave you exposed because you are performing so well?

I have an idea… One of the things that kept me silent was the idea that I would rock the boat and screw myself in terms of the success I was having. I was coming off seven sub-par seasons. But in 2012, I emerged as an elite sprinter; 2014 saw me return to the world rankings as a No 1 long jumper and 2015 world champion in the same event, while in Rio I became a two-time gold medallist in the 4x100metres relay and long jump.

And I know people wondered about me during that time. But I also know they thought, “Well, if she’s doing so well it can’t be so bad.” And I was of the same mind. The very thing that makes us elite, is the very thing that leaves us vulnerable. And that is our ability to execute under pressure, in less than ideal situations. In pain, and under duress.

In Simone’s true but highly selective memoir, Courage To Soar,

I recognised the attempt to regain control of a narrative that had become messy. The first draft of my yet-to-be completed memoir,

Gravity, was like that. I talked about what it takes to be successful; I changed some names to protect the guilty, and myself from potential lawsuits. I painted mostly everything and everyone with a rose-coloured paintbrush.

Simone did not, and does not want this “victim” dog tag. Neither do I. We step into the spotlight like this for ourselves, for future boys and girls, men and women who may need this mirror, who are not sure where they fall; who feel like they cannot exactly say #Metoo but that something is wrong.

And at the same time we do not want to squander our gifts and talent. And so we pack that betrayal in an archive box, we shoulder the shame, we discard the disgust, and we step out.

And we know that in that moment, we are not victims, we are not even survivors. We are who we are. Excellent and prepared.

We know that the abuse, betrayal, shame, disgust and fear will be waiting for us in the same place we left it. But for now, just for this moment, we are exactly who we were born to be, trained to be: elite.