The Silence Behind the Screens: When Advocacy Is Only for Show

 Tonight, a TikTok duet slid onto my screen that made my whole chest tighten. The two people in the video — my husband and his current girlfriend — were posing on a women-empowerment trend with a graphic that read:

“Sexual assault is NEVER the victim’s fault.”

Seeing them behind those words felt like getting hit with a memory I wish I didn’t still carry. Because recently, I was told that my husband dismissed Maria’s assault by saying she “wasn’t raped” — just because the man who hurt her is claiming she consented. I didn’t hear it firsthand, but hearing the story secondhand still made my stomach drop.

Watching him publicly preach “believe women” while privately telling a survivor her assault doesn’t count?

That level of hypocrisy hits deep.

Especially because of what happened to me.

Years ago, when I was with my ex Mason, I went to hang out with Kelsey and the women he was dating at the time — he called it polyamory, but they were simply his girlfriends. That night, he raped me. And instead of telling Mason right away, I hid it. I didn’t know how to talk about it. I didn’t even know how to process it myself.

It wasn’t until I cut Kelsey off, blocked him, and told him I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore that everything blew up.

He didn’t let me quietly walk away.

He made a fake phone number, used it to create fake messages between himself and a “fake me,” and used those fabricated screenshots to convince Mason I had been cheating on him. He brought those fake messages straight to Mason behind my back.

By the time I found out, the damage was already done.

I was labeled a cheater — even though I never cheated.

When I finally tried to press charges, I found out I was too late. And once that door shut, the lie stuck to me like glue.

So hearing Kelsey tell Maria she “must not have been raped” because her rapist said she wanted it?

It hits a bruise I’ve carried for years.

Because I know what it’s like when the man who harmed you rewrites the story to protect himself.

I know what it feels like when your truth is buried under someone’s lies.

And I know what it feels like to be silenced.

But it isn’t just about my past or Maria.

It’s the pattern.

Kelsey constantly calls himself a protector — someone who supports women, someone who stands up for people. But every time real accountability is involved, he’s either on the sidelines, in the background, or actively contributing to the harm.

When I left him after he got out of jail, I became a target. Suddenly I was a liar, dishonest, manipulative — all with absolutely no proof. Just accusations thrown like darts to see what would stick. He painted himself as the victim while rewriting me into the villain of a story he created.

And that’s what makes that TikTok video so hard to swallow.

The message on the screen is true:

• Sexual assault is never the victim’s fault
• Most perpetrators deny or minimize the violence
• And survivors deserve to be believed

But living those values requires more than a video trend.

It requires integrity. Accountability. Consistency.

And none of that exists behind the scenes.

Maria deserved compassion.

I deserved compassion.

Every survivor does.

So here’s the truth — the one that keeps getting buried under the versions men like him create:

A predator denying what he did doesn’t rewrite reality.

Fake screenshots don’t erase the truth.

And a person who claims to protect women should actually act like it when it matters.

Trends don’t make you an advocate.

Actions do.

And survivors deserve more than empty performances.

They deserve to have their stories heard — and believed — without manipulation, denial, or theatrics.