This April, during Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I’m asking America to confront a hard truth: our military — the institution I love, served, and still support — has a deep and ongoing crisis with sexual assault. It’s not just about what’s happened in the past. It’s about what’s still happening today.
As a Marine veteran and a survivor of military sexual assault, I know this issue personally. I also understand the silence around it is just as damaging as the crime itself. We’ve created a culture where too many service members see or hear something and say nothing, where silence for perpetrators is applied as a misguided code of loyalty. That’s why I’m headed to Washington, D.C. this summer to champion legislation called “Hear It, See It, Say It” — a common-sense policy that would require military personnel to report sexual misconduct if they witness it, or face penalties for remaining silent.
We don’t tolerate bystanders when it comes to terrorism, insubordination, or even missed drills. Why would we allow it when it comes to something as life-altering as sexual assault?
In fact, the Department of Defense recently paused Sexual Assault Prevention Training this past February. While alarming, the pause underscores what many of us already knew: the training wasn’t working. But abandoning it isn’t the answer — overhauling it is. We need prevention that isn’t just a PowerPoint, but a cultural reset. That starts with accountability, shared responsibility, and policies that empower witnesses to become defenders, not enablers.
The Costs of War Project at Brown University found that sexual assault in the military is vastly underreported. They estimate more than 73,600 cases occurred in 2023 alone, two to four times higher than the Department of Defense’s official numbers. That’s not a gap in data; that’s a failure in leadership. In the claims VetComm files for veterans, 80% of women and 30% of men have experienced some kind of assault.
And yet, I still love the military. I encourage young people to serve. I credit the Marines for shaping the leader I am today — someone who now runs an eight-figure veteran services organization. What happened to me doesn’t define me. But it did ignite something in me: a mission to make sure the next generation of women and men in uniform don’t have to survive the same trauma.
You can love something and still hold it to a higher standard. In fact, that’s the most patriotic thing you can do.
