I love saying this, even though it might sound strange: I love sitting with people in their pain. I know I shouldn’t love the fact that people are hurting. But here’s what I’ve come to understand: so many people don’t have spaces where they can fully break. And I always knew, somewhere deep inside me, that I wanted to be the person who could sit with them through that.
But let me go back to the beginning, to where this journey really started. Growing up in Zambia, education was always going to happen. In our culture, it’s a huge thing. You finish high school at fourteen or fifteen years old, and that’s when you start facing other pressures, like marriage conversations. I was always going to get an education because my family wanted that for me. But here’s what changed everything: I got what I call “safe education.” I would have gotten an education either way, but I would have been in a community that caused me harm. Instead, I was taken to a boarding school, somewhere outside that harm. I was safe. That was the difference: I got to concentrate on what I needed to do without constantly looking over my shoulder, without carrying that weight of fear with me into every classroom. That safety opened up something in me. It gave me space to breathe, to think, to imagine a future that wasn’t defined by survival alone. That’s when my perspective truly shifted.
Image: Jean, at 14, at her new high school in Zambia.
“Before, I thought healing was something you did in private, something you carried alone. But safe education showed me that healing happens when you have space, when you have community, when you’re not just surviving but actually building toward something. I stopped seeing myself as only a survivor and started seeing myself as someone who could create those spaces for others.”
Jean Nangwala, Freely in Hope Alumni
When each of us creates initiatives related to our own experiences, we create spaces where other survivors can find healing.
When I later pursued psychology, I began to realise that there are many ways to heal. One moment in particular stands out as a moment that would shape everything that came after. I was in my final year, taking a class called group therapy. I loved my lecturer. She wasn’t like the other professors. Her class didn’t feel so book-heavy. It wasn’t just “this is what you do in therapy: you sit, you listen, and you take notes.” Instead, she would ask us what was going on in our lives. She would share what was going on in hers. We’d have real conversations, the kind where you forget you’re in a classroom because it feels so human, so alive. Then, toward the end of each session, she’d bring it all together. “This is how you run group therapy,” she’d say. “You show parts of yourself, but not too many parts. You show enough so that people can share. The class felt safe and protected. That was my light bulb moment. I liked therapy, but I really loved group therapy. I loved the idea of creating spaces where people could come together and be vulnerable, where healing didn’t have to happen alone.
Image: Jean graduating with a BA in Psychology
I didn’t know then how it would all come together. After graduating, I went to work with sex trafficking survivors at another organization. But I wasn’t getting to sit with people anymore, and that’s where my heart is. That’s where it’s always been. I remember thinking one day: I wonder if there are support groups out there for survivors like me. I started looking, and what I found was frustrating. There were groups you could pay for, but the time zones didn’t work. There were groups for survivors of domestic violence, others specifically for sexual violence, but they all had limitations, location requirements, and specific criteria you had to meet. Nothing felt quite right.
What I love most about Reclaim is that it’s not just my thing. It’s a blueprint. You can lead it online or in person, and more importantly, you can teach it to others so they can start their own support groups. It doesn’t end with me. We’ve been able to teach other leaders in the community how to use this framework. Stella, a Freely in Hope alumni in Kenya, is going to start a support group for survivors who are mothers using Reclaim but adapting it to that specific experience. That’s what makes me so proud. It’s not about creating something rigid that everyone has to follow exactly. It’s about giving people the tools to meet survivors where they are, in whatever community they’re in, whatever their specific needs might be. Even the way I’ve led Reclaim has changed. It started as an online group for survivors from around the world. Now it’s much more focused, currently running for five months specifically for survivors of faith who don’t know how to connect their faith with their survivor story. The blueprint stays the same, but how it’s applied shifts based on who’s in the room and what they need.
Teaching Stella has been one of the most beautiful parts of this journey. When I first approached her about leading a Reclaim group, I could see the same fire in her eyes that I felt when I started. But I also saw the uncertainty in the question of “Can I really do this?” I’ve been working with her for months now, walking through every aspect of the framework. We talk about how to hold space, how to manage the heaviness without carrying it all yourself, and how to adapt the sessions when someone needs something different. What moves me most is watching her take the blueprint and make it her own. She’s adding elements that speak to the specific experience of survivor-mothers in Kenya cultural pieces I would never have thought to include because that’s not my lived experience. That’s the power of passing the baton. The program doesn’t just continue; it evolves, it grows richer, it reaches people in ways I never could alone. What I’m learning through mentoring Stella is that survivor leadership multiplies healing exponentially. When I lead a Reclaim group, maybe fifteen people are directly impacted. But when Stella leads one, that’s fifteen more. And when the people she trains lead groups, it keeps expanding. We’re not just healing individual survivors; we’re creating a network of healing that can reach every corner where survivors are still sitting alone with their pain.
There have been moments in this journey that have absolutely floored me. One I am specifically proud of is from when someone who had been a part of Reclaim told me she really wanted to start something like Reclaim. Then there was the survivor who, after going through Reclaim, found the courage to anonymously whistleblow against her abuser. Getting to that point, feeling confident enough, safe enough to speak your truth, that’s so incredibly hard. Because here’s the reality: people treat you differently when they know you’re a survivor. We absolutely need to work on that as a society, but that change is going to take time. In the meantime, we still have to protect survivors. We still have to create spaces where they feel safe enough to take those steps when they’re ready. Watching someone reach that point of readiness? That was my proudest moment. It was also one of my hardest.
This is why survivor leadership matters so much. We come with perspectives that others don’t have. When each of us creates initiatives related to our own experiences, we create spaces where other survivors can find healing. Some survivors will connect with Reclaim and find exactly what they need. Others won’t, and that’s okay, because they might find their healing through other programs instead. There’s room for all of us. There’s room for different healing models and approaches, and that diversity is essential.
To survivors who are reading this and wondering if you could ever lead change in your own community: I see you. I know you might be thinking, I’m barely holding it together, how could I possibly help others? But here’s what I want you to know: your healing journey is exactly what qualifies you. You don’t have to be all healed to start creating change. You just need to be a few steps ahead, willing to reach back and say, “I’ve been where you are, and I can walk with you.” Start small. Start with one conversation. Start by asking other survivors in your community what they need and actually listening to the answer. The blueprint doesn’t have to be perfect. Mine wasn’t. It’s still evolving. What matters is that you’re creating a space where people don’t have to carry their pain alone anymore. That’s how movements start, not with having all the answers, but with the courage to say “me too” and “we can figure this out together.”
Image: Jean today sharing more about Reclaim, a support group for survivors of sexual assault helping them reclaim their voice, body, and hope.
If you’re interested in bringing Reclaim to your community, Freely in Hope provides trauma-informed and survivor-centered trainings on survivor support group implementation. We also provide you with the Reclaim curriculum so that you can successfully implement a survivor support group in your community. Learn more here.
When you support survivor leadership, whether through funding, sharing our work, or telling a friend you’re supporting this beautiful reality: healing isn’t one-size-fits-all. You’re investing in a model that multiplies. One trained survivor leader can create spaces for dozens of survivors. Those survivors can become leaders themselves, reaching dozens more. This isn’t charity that creates dependency, it’s investment that creates sustainability and to those who would like to support these programs financially, always remember that when you fund them, you’re not just helping individual survivors. You’re funding the architects of a world where sexual and gender-based violence no longer defines anyone’s story. You’re backing the people who know exactly what needs to change because we’ve lived through what needs to end.
When you support survivor leadership, you're supporting this beautiful reality: healing isn't one-size-fits-all.
