I will never forget the day I came face-to-face with the man who molested me as a child—and the moment I took back a piece of my power.

When I was in grade school, I was sexually abused by a next-door neighbor and family friend, someone close in age to my older siblings. The abuse happened multiple times, leaving scars that I have carried with me throughout my life. The trauma of childhood sexual assault is something no survivor should ever have to endure, and it shaped my understanding of trust, safety, and personal violation in profound ways.

Years later, when I was 19 and working as a dancer in a local club, I saw him walk in. My heart raced as I immediately recognized the person who had abused me. Instead of running or freezing, I made a decision: I would confront him on my own terms.

I approached him, reintroduced myself, and played naive—acting as though I simply remembered him as an old family friend. “Oh my gosh, it’s been forever! How are you?” I said, keeping my tone light. We caught up briefly, and then I asked if he wanted a private dance. Predictably, he agreed.

We moved to a darker, more secluded area of the club. He paid me and set his wallet on the table beside him. Throughout the entire song, I fed into what I sensed was his twisted ego—telling him how thrilling it was to be dancing for someone who had known me since I was an infant, and hinting how angry my older brothers would be if they knew he was there. I played the part, all while holding onto a secret he didn’t realize I carried.

As the song neared its end, I leaned close and whispered, “I remember everything you did to me.” Before he could respond, I took his wallet, emptied it of all the cash inside—over $1,500—and walked away. The color drained from his face. He was left speechless, exposed, and powerless in that moment.

I never saw him again. And even now, years later, I don’t regret what I did.

For many survivors of childhood trauma and sexual abuse, closure and justice can feel out of reach. This was my way of reclaiming control in a situation where I once had none. My story is one of many in the broader conversation about healing from abuse, confronting abusers, and the complex emotions survivors navigate long after the trauma.