Kalimah Johnson is the founder and chair of the SASHA Center (Sexual Assault Services for Holistic Healing and Awareness), an agency serving African-American survivors in Detroit. A survivor of sexual assault herself, Kalimah also provides trainings to professional sports leagues—including the NBA, NFL, and NHL—about ending sexual and domestic violence.

Kalimah was featured as a subject matter expert in the HBO documentary I AM EVIDENCE, produced by Mariska Hargitay, which tells the story of four survivors whose rape kits went untested for years. The Joyful Heart Foundation is the lead social action partner for the film, working to leverage its impact as a catalyst for meaningful reform and grassroots activism in communities looking to enact rape kit reform. 

We spoke with Kalimah about how the experiences of African-American survivors can differ, how advocates can become better allies, and why culturally-specific agencies are crucial in the movement to end sexual violence.

The support services agency you founded in Detroit, SASHA Center, describes itself as “an African-American non-profit organization serving the African-American community.” What makes SASHA Center different from other providers serving survivors?

The SASHA Center is different from other providers because we deliberately and intentionally concentrate on the African-American community, though survivors can attend our support group services no matter how they racially identify. We engage and integrate topics for survivors that may not be part of traditional, mainstream programs. Dr. Henry Louis Gates, the director of the Hutchins Center for African & African American Research at Harvard University, discusses the use of “signifying” as a normal practice in the vernacular of black folks. When in group sessions and depending on context, a participant may express one thing using a set of words that means something totally different in everyday language, but it is being expressed in a way that a layperson who does not understand these cultural nuances would miss. When certain conversations come up in group sessions, some professionals just would not “get it” and miss opportunities to build rapport. As the founder and creator of this program, I always ask facilitators, “What did the participants say today that was directly related to culture, and what might a person who is not a part of the culture miss or misunderstand?”

Sometimes, just having black and African-American facilitators increases the sense of belonging and lowers isolation for our clients. We also make room for the use of humor, irony, and satire by clients as it comes up during sessions; we allow it, we do not judge it, and we do not tell survivors that it is inappropriate. Also, in this African-American-focused program, we believe that healing for the individual is also healing for the community, and that rape trauma has an impact on us all as one. Therefore, we exclusively utilize groups [for support]. Most agencies focus on the individual, and we focus on the survivor within a whole.

Why is it important to offer culturally-specific services to African-American survivors?

For too long, mainstream traditional services have not included the voices and leadership of black people, specifically women. It became apparent to me that culturally specific services were important in 2009, when Detroit discovered 11,000+ untested rape kits in an abandoned warehouse being torn down. 81% of those kits belonged to black women. But professionally, I took notice well before then by working as an advocate for sexual assault survivors in the city of Detroit. I noticed back then how police reports demeaned black women, with officers calling them derogatory slurs in police reports. I noticed when the collection of evidence was biased, and some people had exams performed or [kits] processed while others did not.

It is important to offer culturally specific services because if we are to work in a way that is trauma-informed, we must take into account the history of a person’s life. Many mainstream agencies are not prepared or adequately equipped to discuss racism, slavery, oppression, victim-blaming, and rape culture as intersecting components of what black rape survivors bring into an agency. However, the good news is that we are here doing the needed work and opening ourselves to more opportunities for creative collaborations for the healing of the black community.

What obstacles do African-American survivors face when seeking support after violence and abuse that others may not?

On top of the obstacles anyone would face as a rape survivor, the additional barriers include—but are not limited to—the negative attitudes of service providers and the reliance on negative stereotypes about the African-American population.

Another huge barrier is how mainstream funding for survivor-centered programming is set up, which does not take under consideration the ways in which we need to do outreach to the community. For instance, in recent years funding has only supported group sessions which encourage members of similar age groups, similar experiences of sexual assault, certain locations for sessions, etc. However, we have found that silencing is so pervasive in our community that if we can get anyone in a support group, their age does not matter, nor do the details of their assault. We believe in intergenerational sessions and diverse experiences, as they allow us to explore diversity, tolerance, and acceptance together.

Other obstacles include our strained relationship with law enforcement and the criminal justice system and over-policing in our communities, which may keep us from using this system as a resource. In addition, mainstream service providers have largely not been able to identify their own internal biases. They want to treat all clients the same and may miss opportunities to be effective with the black population. Culturally speaking, black folks may come into a helping space with tools and resources that service providers have not been exposed to. As a result, service providers may dismiss a viable option for healing and intervention for the black client, such as using spiritual readers, interpreters, religious leaders, the arts, music, cultural objects, centering, and other grounding techniques that are focused on black culture.

You’ve talked before about being a survivor yourself. How did your own healing journey influence your process in creating the SASHA Center?

To be clear, I am still on my healing journey; I believe this is a lifetime of work and integration. I am doing quite well and I feel really good most days, and I credit it to doing the work to help other survivors find their own way to healing. My healing journey has been extremely helpful in the development of programming for the SASHA Center. I am an emcee, poet, and writer, so I know what being creative has done for my healing and integrated that into our programming. My mother spent a lot of time teaching me all the good things about being black and gave me a sense of pride and belonging, so I incorporated that into our programming. She taught me that knowing your history can be healing, and engaging in your culture can help to identify ways that we have persevered and succeeded in spite of slavery, hate, and oppression.

I also believe that engaging in all genres of the arts can be cathartic; activities such as Kemetic Yoga, African drumming and dancing, making body butters and candles, writing poetry, meditation, storytelling, signifying, and engaging in laughter and other somatic experiences can be healing for people of color.

The way society thinks about sexual assault has started to shift in the wake of movements like #MeToo and #MuteRKelly. Have you seen any changes in your work with survivors or their advocates since these movements became more mainstream?

At the SASHA Center, we have had more women disclosing and attending group sessions, and we have been tasked to provide more groups for well-meaning men to help black women and girls. We also believe that we have a very long way to go. These movements are dynamic and different for many reasons, but collectively I would say that people are more comfortable sharing.

I would like to introduce a new hashtag, #NowWhat, because when we are able to talk about violence, post about it, hold folks accountable for it, that’s when we are finally being heard and believed. That’s when healing can start. Revealing and sharing is just the beginning of the healing process. Healing is a very personal experience, and the process becomes so much easier when you do not have to heal alone and be isolated. So we needed these movements to get us to where we are now, but we have so much more work to do.

How can allies do more to support African-American survivors of sexual violence?

They can do more by doing less. Sometimes allies try too hard, in my opinion. When I say do less, I mean trust African-American leadership in the sexual assault movement; allow us to lead by following us and learning these nuances, and try not to always take over. Support us by having more conversations and holding accountable your co-workers, leaders, and counterparts who benefit from certain privileges. Help them realize how they silence us and make us invisible—intentionally and unintentionally. Allies can do more to support us by always acknowledging that they are works in progress. I do that myself as an ally to groups I am not a part of. It’s not easy, but I am committing myself to be open to actively learning, changing, and repairing.

I think a good ally to the African-American survivor will truly allow that survivor to bring all their parts with them, including the traumatic experience of rape as it relates to religion, racism, slavery, oppression, ableism, colorism, heterosexism, and any other marker of difference that compounds the assault(s). I know one thing for sure: This work is much easier when you have allies. Allies can also financially support small agencies like the SASHA Center without dictating how their donation will be used. And allies should never feel threatened when survivors want to work toward their healing with someone who looks like them, or whose similar identity culturally and historically binds them together and gives them a common sense of being.

Learn more about Kalimah’s work by visiting the SASHA Center’s website.

If you or someone you know has experienced sexual or domestic violence, please know you are not alone. For support after sexual assault, contact RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) at 1-800-656-4673 or chat at online.rainn.org. Si necesita ayuda en Español, visite nuestras páginas. Learn how you can support a survivor.