Strong Does Not Mean Silent

I grew up on the South Dakota prairie as a third-generation farm girl. We were strong people – the kind of strong that gets up before dawn, works through blizzards, and doesn’t complain about it.

But there was another kind of strong that was modelled for me, one I didn’t question for a long time:

“Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” “What goes on in this family is nobody else’s business.”

Feelings were a luxury we didn’t have time for. Asking for help was weakness. Silence was just what strong people did.

Decades later, I came home, back to rural South Dakota – this time as a licensed clinical social worker. I now serve the very communities where those lessons were taught to me. And I am here to say, as gently and as firmly as I know how: We have to change this.

The Numbers We Can’t Ignore

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