Good (Man)ners is devoted to male-identifying dudes who share our belief that when you uplift women, you uplift everyone. Read on to hear from Cincinnatians who take allyship to heart.

April is National Sexual Violence Prevention Month/Sexual Assault Awareness Month, so it’s fitting that our featured ally is Jamie Sivrais, founder of A Voice for the Innocent (A.V.F.T.I.). A.V.F.T.I. is a nonprofit community dedicated to supporting those affected by rape and sexual abuse by offering a safe, compassionate space to share stories and seek help. We sat down with Jamie at the A.V.F.T.I. office in Covington to talk storytelling, surviving abuse, and breaking down our society’s idea of masculinity.

Interview by Michaela Rawsthorn. Photography by Alex Larrison.

Trigger warning: This article/interview contains references to child abuse, neglect, and sexual assault. Note that this interview contains strong language.

Tell us a little about who you are.

I was born and raised in Cincinnati. I've gotten to travel, but I always love coming home. I have a history in the music industry, which is kind of how I got into what I do now.

I was at a music festival. There was a nonprofit founder speaking before the main band. He mentioned mental health, depression, anxiety, and all those things. He was reaching out to the thousands of people there, saying, "If you experience any of these – if you need help – my nonprofit can help.”

I had never considered running a nonprofit because I was going to be the most famous musician ever. But I loved how he was reaching out to people – I loved that model. These weren't things I felt like I was experiencing, but I knew people who could use help. And I thought there should be someone doing that work for people who have been sexually abused.

That was an experience I had. I was sexually abused for three years when I was a kid. I heard so many other people tell me they had a similar experience but didn't know about available resources. They didn't think they could reach out to talk to someone about it. They felt like they couldn't be believed.

I thought, “Somebody should do something to help those folks. Not me, because I am going to be the most famous musician. But somebody should.”

Life's weird, though.

In 2012, A Voice for the Innocent came to fruition when this idea wouldn't leave my brain. I knew I wanted it to be a website. I knew I wanted people to be able to be anonymous. And I knew I wanted folks to just... be believed. That was base level: If they tell us a story, we are going to believe them.

But I didn't know how to build a site.

I met Eric Boggs, who was a web developer and is now cofounder. I met Eric just one time before I asked, "Hey, can you donate a website?" I didn't know what I was asking for. I grew up playing music in the late ‘90s when a site was just something you made on GeoCities or Angelfire. I didn’t think it was that big of an undertaking.

Eric didn't have experience with sexual assault, but he always cared about violence prevention and helping people. He jumped right in to help. That was nine years ago. We learned how to build a nonprofit together. Well, actually, we still don’t know what we’re doing, but we do know a lot more than we did then.

What is A.V.F.T.I.?

We’re a storytelling platform and resource for anyone impacted by sexual violence. That includes victims, partners, and parents who want to learn what to do, how to support their loved ones, or what steps to take now.

Anyone can come on, choose a username, and share their story in whatever capacity they want. We have very few guidelines. You can't talk about an open court case, and you definitely can't share the name of a person who has not been convicted. If you disclose that you're a minor, disclose where you are, and disclose that something is still happening to you, we will report to your state. But other than that, anything goes. You tell us what you want us to know.

We have a team of about 80 volunteers from all across the U.S. and internationally. Volunteers go through training, and then they just respond to folks who reach out. They give them compassion; they give support. They just hear them.

Sometimes they might say, “Oh, I've experienced something like that, too.” But a lot of times, they're just saying, “I'm so sorry that happened.”

We didn't know this when we started A.V.F.T.I., but some studies show that having an initial positive response when a survivor shares actually pave the way to them getting help in a more traditional sense, whether it's therapy, group counseling, etc. But if there's a negative response, they might hold that pain inside for five or ten years.

We also have a database of resources on our website for people who want help. We’ve tried to find all the rape crisis centers we can across all 50 states. Each one has a little profile on our page. We're working on getting to a point where you can put in your zip code and find everything within 20 miles of you.

If you've been impacted by sexual violence, we've got a platform for you. If you want longer, more in-depth, more state-specific care, we can help you get connected with your local rape crisis center and find the answers to your questions about accessing care.

Tell us more about your team of volunteers.

When we first started, our volunteer team was just our six-person board. In those very early days, when a story came up on the site, board members responded. Then we were featured in an online blog about parents who abuse their children; my dad sexually abused me, so they told my story and shared how I am helping people now. And every time I refreshed our page, we had a new story. We couldn’t keep up.

For us to grow, we had to have more people. Our volunteers come from all across the U.S., and we also have volunteers in Paraguay, Canada, and Australia. Our volunteers are hands down what I'm most proud of.

If you've been impacted by sexual violence, we've got a platform for you.

Volunteering with us is actually simple, though I try to differentiate between simple and easy. That doesn't mean reading these stories is easy. Running a 100-meter race is not easy, but it is simple. I start here, and I run fast. That's a simple thing. Same with volunteering.

All you have to do is listen, believe, and validate stories that will not be easy to read. We break that down in our training: listen, believe, and validate. We also cover the “do nots.” For example, do not ask “why” questions. When a friend comes to us and says, "I was assaulted at this party," and we say, “Why did you even go to that party?” That’s putting it on them. We should be saying, “What happened to you at that party shouldn't have happened, and that's not your fault.”

Can you tell us about your work with the Women's Crisis Center?

Five or six years ago, I was asked to speak at a Take Back the Night event in Cincinnati. I had never spoken publicly, so I asked the organizers to proofread what I wrote. They suggested I put a call to action at the end and look up a program called Green Dot. Green Dot is a violence prevention program the Women's Crisis Center and all rape crisis centers in Kentucky implement in schools. I ended up mentioning just a little bit about the Green Dot program in my speech that night.

So, it turns out that folks from the Women's Crisis Center were there and heard me talking about their program. That led to me joining their Green Dot team. For five years, I went to high schools in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky to teach students how to recognize violence and how to step in as active bystanders when they see it. In January 2020, I moved to a communications coordinator role to ensure we get out the message that the Women's Crisis Center is here for everybody.

How do you get folx who don’t identify as women to care about sexual violence?

I guess that's the million-dollar question – because we call it a women's issue, but it's 99% perpetrated by men. To solve it for women, we’ve got to fix it for men. I'm not taking away from the fact that, yes, women can assault people; women can hurt people. But largely, this is an issue men perpetuate.

I am very much fascinated and disheartened by conversations about masculinity and men's roles in violence prevention and intervention. There is largely this attitude of, “Well, I don't rape people. So, I'm done, right?” No! There have been men not raping people since humans have existed. It's not enough. We have to do more. In my mind, it does come down to our ideas of masculinity.

Through the Women's Crisis Center, I was leading healthy relationships groups in a men's rehab facility. It was a four-week program; we'd have a different group of about ten guys every four weeks. The first week was more of an icebreaker, getting the men to trust us. The second week was about domestic violence, the third week was about sexual assault, and the fourth week was about breakups. The second and third weeks got really heavy. A lot of times, they would disclose that they grew up in violent homes. I had men who said, “I was abused when I was a kid.” And I also had men who would say, “I was molested, but men can’t be victims.”

Some men suffer from depression while believing they can't be impacted by depression or are not allowed to show that they're affected by depression. So how do we fix that for men? How do we say, “Hey, it's okay”?

I don't necessarily believe that gender means anything. Gender is a construct, but men have these crazy ideas of what it means to be a man. But you know what? You are not any less of a man because you're depressed or abused or because these things happened. We can acknowledge that something may have happened to you. We can acknowledge that you were abused. We can acknowledge that you grew up in a toxic home, a violent home, or whatever somebody might be carrying. We can acknowledge it. It's not going to affect your masculinity.

I am very much fascinated and disheartened by conversations about masculinity and men's roles in violence prevention and intervention. There is largely this attitude of, “Well, I don't rape people. So, I'm done, right?” No! There have been men not raping people since humans have existed. It's not enough. We have to do more.

But they've heard years and years of societal and personal messaging saying, “Man up; men don't cry.” It's too much of a barrier to break through for so many guys.

Only in the past couple of years have I realized how much I care about men's role in violence. Not only in thinking about how we can make sure men aren't perpetuating violence, but also, how do we support men who have been hurt by violence? Because really, it's almost the same thing. There's the phrase, “Hurt people hurt people.” Well, when men are getting hurt and not getting help, guess what? A lot of men, in turn, hurt other people.

You very casually mentioned your victimization as a kid. How did you get to be a guy who can so openly share something like that?

When I was being abused, I didn't recognize it as abuse. Even though I was educated about these topics, that's not what I saw it as. It started with my mom. When I finally said, “I don't want to go to my dad's anymore, and here's why,” she immediately named it abuse and made sure I knew it wasn't my fault.

And the story from there is that I was validated by the court system, which I've learned you don't hear often. Judge Ralph Winkler, Sr., quite literally said, “Do you want to say anything?” He gave me that option. It's all about giving power back to people. And so, when a judge looks at me in eighth grade and says, “Would you like to say anything?" – it was powerful.

Gender is a construct, but men have these crazy ideas of what it means to be a man. But you know what? You are not any less of a man because you're depressed or abused or because these things happened.

I said, “I'd like my dad to not go to jail, please.” The judge told me that he would usually be going to prison, but he wouldn't be because I said that. He then told my dad the reason he wasn't going to prison is because “that little boy asked me not to send you there.” It was this perfect storm of giving me power back.

A lot of people think it's harder for men who have been abused. I don't think it's harder; I think it's different. We have to respond differently. Because I didn't grow up in a world that was sexist toward me, nobody to this day has ever said, “Well, what were you wearing?” Nobody's ever insinuated that it was my fault.

I've been able to talk about my story since high school. I wasn’t shouting it from the rooftops, but I could talk about it. And so, it started then with people telling me their stories and telling me, “You're the first person I've ever told.” And then that carried on to my time playing music. And I guess it all came to a head at that music festival – because I had just been carrying so many people's stories around.

When I did Green Dot presentations in high schools, I would talk about it a little bit. Essentially letting kids know, like, I'm not here fucking around with you. I can say it did happen to me and it has impacted my life, but I'm okay.

To answer your question, I think it's because of practice and because I was listened to, believed, and validated.

Who is an influential woman in your life and why?

My mom, and my wife as well. My wife's just all-around badass. She has such a strong passion for women. She inspires me because of her drive to help people. I'm pretty glad I get to be the one married to her.

But my mom had such a direct impact on not only my childhood, like everybody's mom, but my experience recovering from abuse. I am quite literally able to do the work I do because of how my mom responded to it. Some of our stories say, “You know, I love my mom, but she just doesn't get it,” or “She's just not supporting me the way I need or thinks it just wasn't a thing.” I never once had to question whose corner my mom was in. I try to model myself after her; I fall short all the time, but that keeps driving me.

What’s the best way to get involved with A.V.F.T.I. or with the Women Crisis Center?

If somebody needs our services at A.V.F.T.I., come on to our website. You just have to have an email, make your username, and post your story, if that's what you want. If you're not quite ready to do that, you can message us on any social media or you can email info@avfti.org. If you're just looking for help finding resources, we can do that.

The Women's Crisis Center is located at 835 Madison Ave, Covington, KY 41011. I'm hoping – fingers crossed – that walk-in services will continue to be available. But we've had to shut down for a couple of weeks due to COVID. Our hotline is available anytime: 859-491-3335. It's anonymous. All of the Women's Crisis Center services are free: Counseling is free; court advocacy is free; the shelter is free if you need to get out of a domestic violence relationship.

To volunteer with A.V.F.T.I., fill out your application and submit it to us. From there, it's self-guided training. You'll watch a couple videos and answer some questionnaires. Then, probably within 48 hours, you'll get invited to Slack, where there’s a channel so you can ask questions, get acclimated, and get started.

With the Women's Crisis Center, it is a much larger commitment to volunteer – at least for those who want to be a hospital runner volunteer, because those volunteers are signing up to get crisis calls twice a month. You have an on-call shift, and you sit with someone in the hospital. It takes a person who is okay with being around that. And it takes a 40-hour training. The volunteer application is on the Women's Crisis Centers website.

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Good (Man)ners: Jamie Sivrais on A Voice for the Innocent