By Christina Kaye Sorenson and Alexis D. Hale / For The Herald

Alexis: At a sentencing hearing for a crime I committed at 16, a Snohomish County detective stood up, pointed at me, and said the following words: “This woman is no victim of domestic violence or abuse. I’ve worked in the criminal field for 32 years and dealt with women who have suffered abuse; she isn’t one of them.”

I felt utterly defeated, invisible and exposed. His declaration erased my experiences; the times I was beaten unconscious, choked with shoelaces, or as a child, forced to endure the presence of creepy men where I lived.

I thought to myself, “What does he mean? What does someone who has been abused look

like?”

But I stayed silent. I felt like I didn’t deserve to stand up for myself. This silence followed me for years; until I found my voice.

Christina: That moment struck a deep chord with me. As an attorney at TeamChild. I, like Alexis, have experienced significant abuse. My Adverse Childhood Experiences score of 10 means I’ve endured nearly every type of adverse childhood experience catalogued by researchers, leaving me with debilitating PTSD and ADHD, which I often mask to meet the world’s expectations. My trauma, though hidden beneath the veneer of an intelligent, cute, white girl, has shaped every facet of my life.

Driven by a need to transform my pain into purpose, I left a stable accounting career for law school, followed by a clerkship and two fellowships. During my Soros Justice Fellowship, I explored the impact of trauma and silenced voices in institutional placements; through both dependency and delinquency. My report, “Screaming into the Void: Youth Voice in Institutional Placements,” examined the ways these systems fail to hear young people in their care, across the country.

Indeed, Washington is one of the few states that hasn’t legislated the right for youth to file complaints about such violations. Instead, it leaves this up to the discretion of the very state agencies with the power to infringe on those rights. This isn’t just harmful; it perpetuates cycles of trauma.

Bessel van der Kolk, author of “The Body Keeps the Score,” argues that the opposite of trauma isn’t safety; it’s communication. To heal, individuals must be able to speak freely and be heard.

Alexis’ journey illustrates this truth:

“I’ve been incarcerated for almost six years, and one of the most impactful realizations I’ve had is that breaking the cycles of harm that lead to incarceration begins with finding your voice, and fighting to protect it. Growing up, I was told to ‘be quiet,’ ‘don’t make him mad,’ and ‘no one will believe you anyway.’ Speaking up for myself doesn’t come naturally, but I’ve learned it’s essential to healing.”

While incarcerated, Alexis joined the Girls Advocacy & Impact Network (GAIN) program through the Justice for Girls Coalition, which helps young women engage civically and influence legislation. Even from prison, she was driven to become a policy intern during the 2024 legislative session, where she testified on bills addressing foster care expansion, juvenile restitution, and the Youth Hope Act. She even spoke on a panel before Washington’s Supreme Court.

“With each testimony,” Alexis said, “I realized my voice matters. My experiences give me a perspective others can’t provide. Programs like these remind us that we are still part of our communities, that we can contribute and help make change.”

For incarcerated people, this communication can take the form of civic engagement. Programs that empower individuals to share their perspectives — like those Alexis participated in — do more than amplify voices. They lay the foundation for resilience and hope by reinforcing the belief that what you say and do can affect those around you.

More often than not, society views incarcerated individuals as inherently harmful and incapable of contributing anything meaningful. This couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, those who have experienced the cruelty of the world and been subjected to disruption in society often have answers to the problems we face.

To strip the right of a person to be civically engaged causes them to become detached from humanity, and a person who lacks humanity is a person who causes harm with no awareness or remorse. By encouraging civic engagement, however, we can begin to dismantle the cycles of trauma and harm that lead to incarceration in the first place. Because hope is the belief that your actions matter.

But advocacy isn’t just empowering for the individual; it benefits us all. Research shows that civic engagement reduces recidivism rates by fostering accountability and a sense of connection, both of which are key to a functioning society.

That’s why we urge you to call your state representatives and ask them to support the Act for Civic Engagement, House Bill 1147 to codify the right for incarcerated individuals to participate in civic engagement activities. While no one person can control all their circumstances, we each deserve the opportunity to discover hope; by being heard.

Christina Kaye Sorenson is a staff attorney with TeamChild, a Seattle-based youth advocacy agency. Alexis D. Hale, an advocate for civic engagement for the incarcerated, pleaded guilty to first-degree murder in 2020 for her participation in a 2017 Everett homicide, and was sentenced to 15 years in prison.