Twenty years ago, on my 14th birthday, I started my first day of high school as a freshman at Grover Cleveland Humanities Magnet. It was really cold that fall morning and I felt underdressed in my short-sleeved sequined shrug, a birthday gift from my grandma that year. I entered through those brick and wrought iron fences in Reseda with so much hope for what I would learn and where those four years might take me. I left that place shattered — hollowed out by cowardice and betrayal from adults who were mandated to report the abuse I endured under their care.
My fate over the years in Cleveland’s magnet program, called Core, had been sealed long ago. Poor choices were made by teachers and administrators throughout two decades at Cleveland and the Los Angeles United School District (LAUSD), perpetuating a rotting culture of unaccountability. Green students like myself presented a handful of Core teachers with fresh opportunities to abuse without repercussions.
California Assembly Bill 218 (AB 218) went into effect in 2020. It changed the trajectory of my life. This law allowed me and four other Jane Does from my high school to file suit against LAUSD for child sexual abuse (CSA).
The law did two things especially impactful for adult survivors: it extended the statute of limitations for CSA survivors to file civil lawsuits to within five years of discovery of abuse, or until age 40, whichever is later. And the bill created a “three-year revival window” for survivors to file claims that were previously time barred. Without this bill, myself and the other four Jane Does (all adults now in our 30s and 40s) would not have been able to file lawsuits. Under previous law, we were declared too old to seek justice.
In February, Senator Ben Allen (D, CA-24) introduced Senate Bill 832 (SB 832), a gift to abusers and their enablers that would have catapulted us all back to a pre-“Me Too” era when survivors were silenced more acutely through arcane legislation. Last week, Allen pulled the bill, no doubt thanks to the tireless efforts of adult CSA survivors and our advocates. I am waiting to see what the next line of attack on AB 218 will be and who it will come from.
There are two main lobbying bodies that I believe are behind the push to gut current legislation. The first is the California School Board Association (CSBA), a nonprofit representing elected officials “…who govern public school districts and county offices of education.” CSBA was, and continues to be, a vocal opponent of AB 218. The second is the Association of California School Administrators (ACSA) PAC, a lobbyist organisation for school administrators. Many of the people who donate to the ACSA PAC are school district administrators with titles like “Superintendent” and “Director of Student Services.”
According to a report released this January by the ACSA bemoaning the fiscal impact of AB 218, “No one expected the retroactive removal of the statute of limitations on childhood sexual assault.” Our state’s school districts, the private cabal of people who represent them, and the politicians who accept their donations to curtail legislation, were counting on byzantine legislation to protect their coffers. All of this is done under the guise of fiscal responsibility and “protecting the children.” A criticism that ACSA notes in the same report is that AB 218 did not outline a way to prevent CSA from happening so, therefore, we should toss out the entire bill. Both organisations claim that they want to stop all CSA from happening in public bodies; so why are they not focusing their time and resources on doing that instead of trying to repeal current legislation?
Now that this bill is shelved, the conversation around AB 218 should center how we got here as a society, staring down this specific fiscal nightmare of our own creation. Most budget shortfalls, like the one we face here in Los Angeles, result from lack of or misallocation of revenue, not because survivors are litigating the sheer volume of abuse by public bodies. We need to foster discussion on why so many abusers are allowed to flourish, across decades in places like Cleveland’s magnet program and the MacLaren Children’s Center, rather than force survivors back into the shadows to save money. There are so many other places our city and state can save money – might we consider slashing the local police department’s budget in half to save the city $1 billion?
I cannot forget that for weeks survivors were told that seeking justice for our abuse will bankrupt the state. How is that our problem? Why do survivors need to be reigned in?
The text in SB 832 revealed that lobbyists at CSBA and ACSA think that survivors are liars. They seek to return the benefit of the doubt to abusers by forcing survivors to provide “clear and convincing” evidence of their abuse beyond sharing their own experiences. Changing the standard of proof puts additional burden onto survivors. Many people do not recognise the abuse as such until well into adulthood. By the time I realized I was sexually abused as a teenager, and not “in love” with an adult, I was 28 years old. Any chance I had to build a case against my abuser was long gone. How could I have kept evidence of something I didn’t know was a crime?
All survivors of abuse deserve justice, and providing survivors with an avenue for legal recourse – like AB 218 – is one way to promote and support our healing. In fact, money is the only recourse the judicial system can provide to survivors. The justice that I want is justice that is impossible for me to ever have: a normal high school experience. My settlement does not bring back the last few teenage years I lost when I was thrust into adulthood, groomed by a teacher who took advantage of me. The settlement does not give me back countless hours lost to nightmares that interrupted my sleep, dreams punctuated by severe post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). The settlement does not even begin to heal the relentless bullying I faced from teachers at school — yup, teachers — who chose to blame me for my abuse instead of acknowledging their shortcomings as mandated reporters.
All district employees, by the way, “…are mandated reporters of suspected child abuse or neglect.” Teachers are required to “…call an appropriate local law enforcement agency…or Department of Children Family Services (DCFS) immediately or as soon as practically possible…” and submit a written report within 36 hours of becoming aware of suspected abuse, including sexual abuse. In the case of myself and other Jane Does, Cleveland’s teachers and administrators chose to protect their colleagues and their school’s reputation instead of doing the right (and legal) thing.
Chronologically speaking, the first Jane Doe started high school the week I was born. All five of our graduation years are as follows: 1995, 1996, 2001, 2007 and 2009. Cleveland’s teachers, the administration, and LAUSD could have curbed this abuse 30 years ago by simply following existing mandated reporting laws.
Going forward, comprehensive education on grooming for children and parents is imperative. Enforcement of mandated reporter laws and quarterly training for public institutions needs to happen. What cannot happen is a reversal of a groundbreaking law that brought justice to so many who, for decades, had to suffer in silence, alone, wondering what we did wrong.
The state cannot go back in time and stop adults from abusing minors. Students and parents at Cleveland provided, throughout the last 30 years, the “clear and convincing” evidence of abuse that lobbyists and opponents of AB 218 want. School administrators did nothing about it at the time of reporting. If the district, or this state, does not want to pay out survivors now, they should instead consider further legislation that holds those who were in charge and chose inaction accountable.
In fact, many accomplices of the abuse that took place at my high school are still around children, teaching today. One way that the state can ensure this abuse does not continue happening is by cleaning house of those who did not fulfill their mandated reporter roles by looking the other way.
With the final case against my high school and LAUSD settling earlier this month, the district has now agreed to pay more than $20M in damages across all five lawsuits. The district is lucky that only five of us came forward. Knowing what I have learned throughout the last 20 years, many more survivors of Core’s predatory program exist. $20M is a drop in the bucket for what Core students endured. Not all of us were sexually abused, but we all were groomed to accept the always inappropriate and sometimes illegal actions of our teachers.
I am no longer a victim of this abuse, but a survivor. The freedom that I now feel is invaluable and no lobbying body or politician can take that away from me. I encourage legislators to consult survivors of CSA like me – those of us who are still alive, despite having increased risk of dying by suicide – before listening to the deep pockets that seek to wrestle back our autonomy and the only path to justice we currently have.
