Thread by @R_Denhollander

WHY ENGAGE WITH A GROUP OR INSTITUTION THAT DOESN’T SET UP ALL THE RIGHT TERMS RIGHT AWAY?

It’s a fair question we’ll have to wrestle with a lot as leaders and institutions begin exploring this need. Here’s my perspective:

There are four categories we have to think about:

1 – Survivors of the abuse or abusive institutions. We need to do the absolute best we can to fight for justice and restitution on their behalf. This includes fighting for answers they deserve.

2 – Future victims. Culture, policy, awareness, etc all has to change in order to help keep the next generation safer. We need to push for best standards practice and the best education that reaches the heart, not just focusing on the right “rules”.

3 – The institution. Bad actors need accountability. And in the institution there are usually at least SOME people who may be able to learn and grow, and do better the next time. We need to do the best we can to help these people grow, knowing they will impact those around them.

4 – Watching individuals and institutions. We learn from what we see. So demonstrating best-standards practices, grief and repentance at harm from bad choices/structure, and the benefit everyone gets from handling abuse correctly, is critical.

We have to push for the right steps, not back down on failures, but also be ready to highlight what is done well and say to those who are watching “This was really good. Do that part, AND NOW ADD THIS, and here's why you need to take the next step".

The very valid concern, of course, is that engaging with a group that isn’t going to do the right thing, will only give cover and credibility to that group, and they’ll just keep hurting people. Unfortunately, that’s more the norm than the exception. But. . .

it’s NOT true that this is always the result, IF you or the group you are with is able to distinguish when growth can happen, even if it’s not perfect. I believe in this case the benefits are better for everyone in the long-run. Here’s why:

Long after my impact statement and long after MSU had hired leader and firms that made deeply personal allegations of corruption against me publicly and to lawmakers, after a long journey of pleading for change, a trustee reached out, saying he wanted to help do things right.

In that moment, I had a choice. I could say “no way, too little, too late”, or I could hold out the possibility for change, growth, learning, and slow impact, even though it meant far more effort and exhaustion and risk to me, than just keeping everyone on "blast".

Choosing to be angry and slam the door closed would have been easy and emotionally satisfying. But not impactful. My civil attorney was cautious, but trusted my judgment. So I agreed to talk and evaluate whether slow change was possible, or whether it was just a stunt.

This trustee was still learning, but based on the questions being asked and the realizations dawning, I determined it was worth the effort and risk to help foster the learning and growth. Because if we can’t engage the process, we shut it down and that hurts everyone.

For the next many months I picked up phone calls in the grocery store, and while cooking dinner, and chasing kids, to discuss the perspective of survivors, the impact of the trauma, and why certain things had to happen. Honest, hard questions were asked and concepts wrestled with

Witnessing the journey, rocky though it was at times, was a privilege. But nothing we worked on behind the scenes came to fruition, because the rest of the Board was still really bad. Total failure, right? Why even bother when no one else got to see the impact on one person?

No. Because six months later the makeup of the Board shifted enough to begin the process of hiring an independent firm and waiving privilege. This trustee asked if I’d help the entire Board navigate that process, even though we both knew it was a VERY uphill battle.

Because I’d engaged with him privately in a trustworthy and reasonable way, he could vouch to others who were unsure, that I was safe to listen to. Trustees who did not want to listen, now had to. Others who had been afraid to, finally sat down with me.

There was absolutely concern that the Board was just trying to “borrow my credibility” and never intended to do the right thing. Some of them I KNEW were doing this. But. . .

I had private conversations with a few that gave me hope. Granted, it was less than half the board, but the questions they asked showed enough desire to learn, that I determined that careful engagement was more likely to yield growth and change, than refusing to engage.

For the next 8 months I worked with the Board, some of whom were vitriolic and antagonistic. It took inordinate amounts of time, effort, energy and emotional exhaustion, especially dealing with the members saying nasty things behind the scenes or outright yelling at me.

It also meant that during that process, I had to maintain trust with those who were just learning, enough that they would engage honestly with me and be able to go through the process of learning. This meant quietly sitting through assumptions that I was just letting them use me.

It would have been far easier and emotionally satisfying to just refuse to engage, “to little to late”, and “not good enough”, instead of walking with them through the process of growth, and taking hits from every side.

But I also knew that if I could not engage with the process of growth and change, there was little hope it would continue. Someone had to keep moving it forward and pushing from the inside, and be able to deal with the wrestling with concepts and ideas as growth happened.

After 8 months of work, the Board chair pulled a sleight of hand right as the vote to engage the firm was taken, permanently ending 8 months of effort. Total failure, right? 8 months wasted, right? And I just got “used”, right? No, and here’s why:

1 – Choosing to engage with the process meant that it amplified the debate about an independent report and waiver of privilege, WAY longer and louder. I knew that refusing to engage with the process would have quietly ended everything, fading out all debate and discussion.

Choosing to engage with the process, even though it months of quiet on my part, meant that in the long run the debate was raised to much higher public levels that it would have otherwise been. Years later, that 8 month process is STILL making news.

2 – Choosing to engage with a good process, even though we didn’t get the result we wanted, meant it drew clear lines between the bad actors and those who had learned. This is a critical distinction we have to learn to make - who is really growing, and who is just pretending?

Getting to a vote meant drawing those lines clearly. Yes, it took 8 months to get through the process to make it clear who was paying lip service and who was really learning, and until that vote everyone was assumed a bad actor, but in the end, there was significant clarity.

3 – Because I engaged with the process, it gave one Board member the ability to then resign in protest when the vote failed. That sent a message to the public, other institutions, and survivors. Others made strong public statements that amplified the problems to a higher level.

4 – Because I engaged with the process, 2 trustees have grown in their understanding of trauma and crisis response & will take a stand for different actions the next time. They may not win, but that’s 2 voices that would otherwise be part of the problem, who can now help educate.

5 – Because I engaged with the process, when a scandal hit another major university two years later, a trustee I had built trust with, could pick up the phone and call that other university’s trustee and say “don’t make our mistakes. You need to talk to Rachael”.

That trustee could vouch for my ability to be discreet, trustworthy and understand both “sides” enough to help navigate concerns to get to the right result. The original Trustee introduced me to the trustee at the 2nd university, who introduced me to four more trustees.

After 12 months of behind-the-scenes work, a good investigation was done and a public report issued. It wasn’t everything we wanted, but four trustees now better understand what to call for and how to get there, than they would have if I’d have refused to engage.

And had there been no engagement with the process just because it wasn't perfect right away, if there hadn't been 12 months of work, the terms of the investigation would have been very different, and there would have been no public report.

Massive reforms and restructuring are now in place and the feedback from survivors and witnesses directly involved has been overwhelmingly positive. Trustees showed up for the legal process to hear the voices of each survivor, and are engaging with educational materials in-depth.

I didn't get that change with MSU. We didn't get any of this.

But because I allowed one trustee to grow and was willing to engage with the process, over the next few years, this is what happened:

1 – We could spotlight the problems at MSU at a far higher level than they would otherwise have happened, creating bigger public consequences for bad acting. This is BETTER for all of us who were survivors of MSU, than not engaging and letting the conversation die out. . .

and the battle lines remain muddied, even though the 8 month process was hard.

2 – That first individual could vouch for me to others on the Board, so that two more leaders became willing to engage and thus better educated so they can go on to educate others. I may never see the fruits of this, but three more voices helping educate others, isn't nothing.

3 – Those trustees could vouch to 2nd trustee in a 2nd institution about my ability to be trusted and provide sound direction.

4 – THAT trustee could vouch to his colleagues so that they could learn and we could slowly get the votes for the right steps in the 2nd place.

It’s still not perfect. But NONE of that would have happened, without willingness to engage with the process from that very first email, and allow individuals the ability to go through the hard process of growth and learning.

Would it have been easier over the 8 month process with MSU to throw up my hands and put everyone on “blast” instead of maintaining a firm but reasonable and trustworthy engagement? Absolutely. BUT:

choosing the harder road didn’t ultimately result in “covering”, it resulted in drawing the lines more clearly. But I had to be patient with the process. The end RESULT was not covering for the institution – the end result was. . .

MORE clarity and public pressure and warning to other institutions to not make the same mistakes, than was possible if I'd refused to engage at the very beginning, because I couldn't get absolutely everything done all at once.

It is rare to find an institution or majority of leaders who are already so well educated and advanced in their understanding of trauma and best-standards practices that the votes to do absolutely everything that should be done right away, will be there from the first moment. BUT

Being able to begin the process of educating and have a voice with the leaders to push for the right thing, if done properly, does not have to end in cover up. On the contrary, it can and will result in:

1 – Clarity and heightened levels of public discussion, warning and consequences, in the end, even if patience with the process is hard. This provides better guidance and warning for bad actors, and institutions, and longer-term ability to fight for the survivors.

2 – Better education and reform for those willing to hear and make change. That begins the process of making things safer for others, even though it is a journey that isn’t accomplished all right away.

3 - Better learning for those in the institution who ARE willing to hear. There may not be many, and there may not be enough to force the right things right then and right there. But they will be better prepared the next time, and be a voice that can go on to help others.

Others will decide differently and choose not to engage at this level, I respect that conviction. But for my part, I am willing to go through the long, difficult, exhausting, incremental, painful processes, even when it means anger from all sides, because I believe that

it *ultimately* yields greater clarity and change and education, even though patience with the process is hard.

And I respect both perspectives, so I work with groups and individuals who will not engage unless every demand is met, and I also work with groups who are engaged in the long and exhausting process of incremental change.

If I recommend a group, it is because I am firmly confident from longstanding personal and professional experience, that they fall into one of these two approaches and are capable of determining, as I do my best to do, when the long-term benefits yield results worth pouring into.

In either case, the key for pushing for change, is knowing who has the decision-making power to do the right thing, and putting the pressure there, on the actual decision-makers.

On the one hand I could choose to:

Question the motives and efficacy of those who will not engage unless every condition is met from the get-go, and suggest that this perspective does more damage because growth gets shut down. Or I could respect those convictions and realize that their inability to engage is:

due to the institution's refusal to change, and put pressure on the institution to be willing to make radical change. I choose to put the pressure on the decision-makers for poor decisions, rather than on the convictions of those who will only engage if everything is perfect.

Or I could denigrate the convictions of those willing to engage in incremental change and say they are doing damage because they aren't demanding perfect steps immediately.

I choose instead to put the pressure on the decision-makers who are not heeding good counsel.

In every scenario, survivors need to know that their voices are indeed making change. It may be slow, it may be imperfect, they may never see the full impact. But in both cases change is made, and they should be allowed to see and feel the depth of what they have accomplished.

This is, after all, about them.