Ayanna Pressley is an advocate, policymaker, activist, survivor, and the first woman of color elected to Congress from Massachusetts. Here, in an exclusive excerpt from Jessica Valenti and Jaclyn Friedman's forthcoming anthology Believe Me: How Trusting Women Can Change the World (opens in a new tab) (January 28), Presley shares her sexual assault survivor She discusses her own experiences as a survivor of sexual assault and how to ensure justice for all.

When people are on the precipice of a political or cultural leap, they often tend to claim it as luck, a lightning strike, or a once-in-a-generation moment. I would never underestimate the power of the people, but let's be clear about our history: Rosa didn't get on a bus, Martin gave a speech, and we were given civil rights. It is not as if Rosa getting on the bus and Martin giving a speech granted us civil rights. Behind every milestone, behind every movement that has energized the nation, there are hours of quiet sweat spent in the struggle for justice.

And as we strive for a more just nation, it is important to have a clear picture of what that future looks like. In a nation that cries out for values, the day will come when we walk among our brothers and sisters in community. A world that not only believes in survivors and places their voices at the center of the struggle for justice, but also makes consent, bodily autonomy, and liberation the standard.

I have told survivors at organizational meetings, in personal conversations, and on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives that what I want for all survivors is justice. I strongly believe that. Justice is a critical step in our healing as individuals and as a survivor tribe. We know that the statistics are staggering: less than 1% of all perpetrators are brought to justice in court. But when I speak of justice, the future I dream of is not one defined by the confines of the courtroom or by trauma-savvy judges (although that would be a victory, of course). The justice I seek is much bolder. I want a world where survivors are believed, recognized, and supported. I also want a world where the number of people affected by sexual violence is drastically reduced within a generation. I reject any narrative that says we as a society must condone such behavior. I am encouraged when I see what informed policies have done to stem drunk driving and gun violence deaths (in developed countries outside the US). And I dream of a world that provides economic opportunity and mobility that allows for strong, healthy relationships and a community that protects us in our moments of vulnerability. Our stories, the inflection points of organizing survivor communities, and our collective strength matter. [And I know what it feels like to be a survivor in a country where believing in and supporting survivors has become a partisan issue and survivors must feel marginalized and excluded. I tell my story because I know that it is part of my own ongoing healing, but also because I know that by telling my story I can give others agency. Since I began publicly sharing my story, I have been humbled and moved by the number of survivors who have reached out to me, and by the number of people from all walks of life and backgrounds who have gone public. A few years ago, at a Boston-area rape crisis center walk, a woman told me that after hearing my story, she encouraged me to tell her daughter and husband about an assault she had experienced decades earlier. When we experience assault, we can feel voiceless and marginalized. However, I know that in my own healing, regaining agency over my story is an important part of moving forward. Survivors should be able to choose when, how, and to whom they want to disclose. One colleague confided to me how liberated she felt when a friend reminded her that she was the one in control of who she disclosed to. There is no shame or shame in being asked to tell your story, it should be a choice he or she should make. Assault robs us of our agency, so it is important that we regain our agency as we recover. Going public is not easy. This phrase feels familiar now, but the words are all the same.

During the 2018 congressional campaign, well-meaning journalists repeatedly asked me questions that rehashed details of my childhood sexual abuse and campus sexual assault. At such times I aimed for composure and grace, reminding myself that my chosen public life would always be accompanied by intrusive questions. Such interviews were triggering and sometimes very frustrating for me and for my fellow survivors, the senior staff. They would resent the question and I would be deeply hurt. At such times, I would say to myself. 'That's why we need survivors in positions of power and influence everywhere. We bring our lived experiences to every place we go.

Creating real change requires sustained movement and coalition building. It calls for institutional changes that will enable more elected leaders to listen to their constituents and feel their pain more intimately, and for institutions of power to more accurately reflect the diversity and lived experiences of the people of our communities.

Simply put, we belong everywhere. Our truths deserve to be whispered in the corridors of power and shouted from the rooftops. We belong at every table where decisions are made about our lives, our livelihoods, and our justice. Our lives, our stories, and our struggles matter.

As I write this manuscript, I am a few weeks into my first term as a proud representative of the Massachusetts 7th Congress. Just last week, I stood on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives and delivered a speech in support of legislation aimed at bringing us one step closer to a vision of justice for survivors of sex trafficking. As I waited for my turn to speak and my colleagues rose to speak, I was reminded of the day a few months ago when I sat around a long table with a group of young women supported by the My Life My Choice program. We passed around bottles of juice and boxes of muffins as our comments about Prince Harry and Meghan Markle turned to stories of being trafficked. It had been a bad week on the campaign trail, when everything from the weather to the poll numbers had taken a turn for the worse. At that table, none of that mattered. With tears streaming down my face, I told the girls my story. In that moment, I felt a tremendous sense of responsibility to not only share my story and offer the release I had shared, but to fight for these girls with all my might. At the end of the meeting, I shared with the girls a journal of quotes and episodes that my mother had left me shortly before she passed away. The last tab of that journal entry read, "Be inspired." I wrote this down on the whiteboard behind me. Barbara Jordan Maya Angelou AUDRE LORDE. "I said. 'They have inspired me as much as you have inspired me.'

A few days after I spoke on the floor, my chief of staff told me, "You know, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do this. You were the only survivor to speak on the floor about this bill. [When we liberate ourselves, others will be liberated. [12] [13] Our movement is built by electing survivors. Every time the government takes a step toward representing and valuing the diverse lived experiences of the American people, policy decisions become sharper, clearer, and faster. When people with relevant real-life experiences ask pointed questions, the conversation changes. That is not to say that we are not still healing. Nor does it mean that we are not simultaneously fearful, hopeful, and deeply responsible. But every survivor who sits on the dais, leads the proceedings at committee hearings, and calls on the federal government to investigate is acting not for himself or herself, but for thousands of people united through a common experience. Real and lasting change comes when we insist on coming to the table of power. And we have only just begun.

Excerpted from Believe Me: How Trusting Women Can Change the World, edited by Jessica Valenti and Jaclyn Friedman (opens in new tab). Copyright © 2020. available from Seal Press, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc.