PORTLAND, Ore. — Editor’s note: This article discusses abuse and may not be suitable for all readers.
For decades, Heidi Yewman kept her childhood pain locked away. A gun violence prevention advocate and documentary filmmaker, she rarely spoke about the physical, emotional, and sexual abuse she endured while growing up. The silence was rooted in shame—shame she says haunted her well into adulthood.
Now, she’s breaking that silence. Yewman has published her memoir, Dumb Girl: A Journey from Childhood Abuse to Gun Control Advocacy, laying bare her experiences and the resilience that allowed her to find strength in adulthood.
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“I felt like it wasn’t my place to talk about it,” Yewman said. “For decades, I didn’t share my story with even my closest friends. But the shame was suffocating. Talking about it was the only way to release it.”
A Childhood Shaped by Violence
One of Yewman’s earliest memories is seared into her mind. She was five years old, sitting in her room doing kindergarten homework, when her father suddenly became enraged.
“He came in and punched me in the nose. I can still hear the blood dripping into the metal trash can he shoved under my face,” Yewman recalled.
Her father’s moods dictated daily life. If he was angry, there would be yelling, hitting, or worse. That constant vigilance—scanning for danger—stayed with her into adulthood.
“He was my biggest cheerleader and my biggest tormentor,” she said.
Abuse Within the Family
At age 10, Yewman’s suffering deepened. Her older brother began sexually abusing her, a cycle that continued for years in a home defined by dysfunction and neglect.
“It lived in the bedroom, it lived in the way I saw myself as a woman,” she said. “For years, I tried to convince myself it wasn’t happening, or that it didn’t matter. That’s common for survivors of sexual abuse—we minimize our pain just to survive.”
With an alcoholic mother, absent boundaries, and little supervision, Yewman said the conditions enabled her brother’s abuse and left her with scars that would not fade.
Writing to Heal
Though she didn’t intend to write a memoir, Yewman said the words poured out of her as an act of survival.
“All this trauma lived inside me, and I needed to get it out,” she explained. “Writing was terrible and cathartic at the same time. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.”
Her book details not just her trauma but also her path toward resilience, highlighting how she rebuilt her life through advocacy, empathy, and parenting.
Living With Shame
Yewman said one of the least understood aspects of abuse is the enduring shame it produces.
“It’s this constant weight in the body,” she said. “It shows up as disease, as pain, as exhaustion. For years I believed it was all my fault.”
Though she’s made progress, she admits that shame will always be part of her.
“I have scars from surgeries and from breast cancer. Shame is just another scar—an internal one that I’ll carry forever.”
Turning Trauma Into Advocacy
Rather than retreat, Yewman has used her experience to fuel her advocacy. She volunteers with the Trauma Intervention Program, supporting people in crisis, and has spent years lobbying for gun violence prevention.
“Surviving abuse gave me grit and empathy,” she said. “When I’m with people who’ve experienced trauma, I know what to do. It feels like I’m giving them something that was never given to me.”
Her advocacy work also forced her to confront fear head-on. Debating gun rights opponents, she said, reminded her of trying to understand her father’s rage.
“When I go toward the thing I fear, it breaks it down. Trauma taught me to lean in, even when I want to run away.”
Breaking the Cycle
Yewman and her husband, Dave, have two grown children. Parenting, she said, was an intentional effort to break the cycle of intergenerational trauma.
“I parented the way I wished I had been parented,” she said. “I made sure my kids felt smart, supported, and valued. I gave them the childhood I didn’t have.”
Years of therapy helped her process her pain and ensure it wasn’t passed on. “It’s not hard,” she added. “Don’t hit your kids. Pay attention. Value them. That’s all.”
Message to Survivors
Her memoir is meant to serve as a light for others who feel trapped in silence.
“Be kind to yourself,” Yewman urged. “Find people who don’t judge you, who don’t mirror your negative inner dialogue. Surround yourself with those who help you grow.”
She said her own growth has brought her a confidence she once thought impossible. “I never imagined I’d feel this way about myself. But sharing my story has given me strength.”
The Importance of Talking
Yewman believes that silence is the enemy of healing.
“When we live in shame, then we can’t prosper, and we can’t thrive,” she said. “Talking breaks the cycle. Talking is what heals.”
Her message is echoed in her memoir, in her advocacy, and in the special KGW+ panel discussion accompanying her book launch, titled Talk About It: Dumb Girl.
Building Community Around Healing
Yewman emphasizes that support networks are essential for recovery. She highlights groups like:
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YWCA Clark County, which provides domestic and sexual violence prevention education.
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Saprea, a retreat center for women survivors of childhood sexual abuse.
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5 Waves, a national organization that offers education and survivor support.
She is also organizing a 2026 conference in New York focused on sibling sexual abuse, a topic she says remains under-discussed.
Looking Forward
For Yewman, speaking out is both personal and political. As a Columbine High School graduate and a gun control advocate, she views her survival story as tied to broader struggles for safety and justice.
“Sharing our stories is how we change things,” she said. “It’s how we make sure the next generation doesn’t carry the same weight we did.”
Resources
If you or someone you know is struggling, support is available:
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National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Call or text 988
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National Sexual Assault Hotline: Call 800-656-HOPE (4673) for confidential support
A Story of Resilience
Heidi Yewman’s Dumb Girl is not just a memoir of abuse—it’s a story of reclamation. It’s about choosing honesty over silence, empathy over fear, and resilience over shame.
Her hope is that other survivors will see themselves in her words and know they are not alone.
“I’m loving the confidence I’ve gained through this work,” she said. “It’s a confidence I never thought I’d have. And if I can find it, others can too.”
