I am a 52-year-old survivor of incest. Writing those words is never easy, but they matter. They explain why I know, firsthand, how medical systems can retraumatize the very people they’re supposed to help. Hospitals are supposed to be places of healing. But without trauma-informed care, they can become places of harm. My brother Cory’s story shows just how devastating that harm can be.

Cory’s Story: My brother Cory was an incest survivor. He endured rape, beatings, and emotional abuse from our father throughout his entire childhood. As an adult, he carried those scars into every part of his life—including medical settings.
One day, Cory was taken to Good Samaritan Hospital in Puyallup, part of the MultiCare Health System. The reason for his admission doesn’t matter. What matters is how he was treated when he asked for one simple, reasonable accommodation.
Cory told the staff he could not handle having a male nurse or doctor examine him, place a catheter, or remove one. His request was not about preference—it was about survival. For a man raped throughout his childhood by a male perpetrator, having a male provider touch him in that vulnerable state would send him spiraling into panic and flashbacks.
Cory asked for a female nurse and doctor.
I asked again on his behalf, begging the staff to find anyone trained in trauma-informed care.
And both times, we were denied.
Instead of compassion, Cory was retraumatized. Instead of dignity, he was chased out of the hospital by security guards dressed like police officers. My brother—already in distress, already vulnerable—was treated as a problem to be removed rather than a human being in need of care.
He left the hospital retraumatized and untreated.

Why Did Good Samaritan Fail? Why would Good Samaritan deny such a basic, life-saving request?

• Lack of training: Staff did not recognize the request as trauma-related.
• Failure of systems: No clear policy existed to respond to survivors’ needs.
• Lack of humanity: Instead of stopping to listen, they escalated the situation with force.

This is not just poor bedside manner. This is systemic failure. And when hospitals ignore trauma, they are complicit in re-enacting abuse.

What Trauma-Informed Care Could Have Looked LikeGood Samaritan—and every hospital—must understand what trauma-informed care means:

• Listening to and honoring patient requests.
• Training staff to recognize trauma responses.
• Explaining procedures with clarity and compassion.
• Providing choices whenever possible.
• Ensuring that “safety and dignity first” is a hospital-wide value, not an afterthought.

These practices cost nothing. They save lives.

Accountability Matters. Good Samaritan and the MultiCare Health System must answer for what happened to my brother.

• Why was Cory’s request denied?
• Why were no trauma-informed providers available—or sought out?
• Why was security, not compassion, the response to a survivor’s fear?

Hospitals like Good Samaritan cannot continue to harm survivors while hiding behind policies and procedures. Trauma-informed care must become a non-negotiable standard. MultiCare must take accountability, implement system-wide training, and ensure that no survivor is ever treated the way Cory was again.

A Call to Readers: If you are a survivor, know this:
Your needs are valid.
You deserve safe, compassionate care.
If you have been denied that, you are not alone.

If you are part of the medical system, ask yourself:
Would my hospital know how to respond differently? Would we have retraumatized Cory—or would we have cared for him with compassion?
​
It’s time for every hospital—including Good Samaritan—to answer these questions and act. Because healing should never come at the cost of retraumatization.  And care without compassion is not care at all.

Today a surprise text came with this image. Another detailed and talented drawing by my brother, Cory.

I saw the text pop up and I had to wait till later in the day to read the text and look at the pictures. I knew it would be loving, and heartfelt and deep - like the surprise texts from this angel always are. I went through my normal day...a long work day, texts from others, and many thoughts of where I am and where I am going.

Around the yard the past few weeks there have been 3 white butterflies. They fly somewhat in a pattern, like synchronized swimming. They dance among the blueberry bushes, they flutter along the grass, and they sit on the flowers and what seems to be humming to one another.  Since my mother passed on, my brother and I always say when a butterfly arrives, its our mother. These three dancing butterflys, I call Ama, continue to come by continue to show up, continue to dance. Continue to teach me.

Am I listening? Am I losing myself? 

Then today...the text came and a detailed drawing of this butterfly...drawn in 2000, hits just at the right time - just at the right time.

When we lose ourselves, sometimes we are already found.

Remember. You matter. Be brave, be bold, be loud.
xo Pennie

Recidivism is the tendency of a convicted criminal to reoffend.
This topic has been heavy on my heart for many years, but more so in the past 18 months, since my brother passed away. My brother had a high recidivism rate and no one that worked in the schools, the churches, the corrections system, ever asked him what happened to him. They never asked why he acted out, or ran away. No one ever asked why he was using or running, or how his heart and soul felt. No one every checked in on the wholistic person of my brother.

From a young age my brother was challenged in school, sitting still, outbursts, learning challenges, behaviour, and the list goes on. He was a young boy that wanted and needed attention. He need any kind of attention he could get, even if it wasn't positive. 

At home our father was abusing him, raping him, beating him, and belittling him in ways most humans can't wrap their heads around. Yes, I have talke about it before, and yes, I am talking about it again. WHY? Because there are many children out there that need teachers, school counselors, doctors, nurses, and other adults in their life to look at the holistic child as a person and figure out what they are struggling with and why. Why are they acting out? And help figure out how to support them. Church youth groups, sports teams he was on, no where, no one asked.

We saw the same patterns in junior high and into high school. To a point where he could barely function. And then at age 16 he was able to speak his truth - telling of the abuse which had plagued his life since he was an infant. Then he ended up numbing the pain through addiction and other ways. Trying to contiue to survive the damage he never asked for.

Cory's story isn't much different than many. Other young folks deal with racism, poverty, abandonment, and the list goes on. My brother ended up in and out of jail and prison sentences. The repetitiveness of him trying to survive life the best he could - carrying the weight of trauma that children should never experience and adults should never have to take with them for their entire lives.

My brother was never lucky enough to break free of the cycle - trying to survive each day. He had a very long rap sheet, he found himself trying to put together the pieces time and time again. Not unlike many.

All of this to say...we need to help families students, corrections, hospitals, clinics, doctors, nurses, teachers, school counselors, principles - all understand ACES Scores - Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) scores.

Adverse Childhood Experiences Study (ACE Study) uncovered a stunning link between childhood trauma and the chronic diseases people develop as adults, as well as social and emotional problems. This includes heart disease, lung cancer, diabetes and many autoimmune diseases, as well as depression, violence, being a victim of violence, and suicide.

I would also say that ACES also impacts recidivism rates. We need to start using ACE scores, to help people change the trajectory of their lives. What are we waiting for.

What if we asked "what has happened in your life," Maybe, just maybe - we can make a difference.

I will no longer be quiet and hidden. - Pennie 

I was going to write this back in September and for some reason the words didn't want to come out. I look at the pictures and try to remember back to a time that was complicated and trying. A childhood many wouldn't understand. The eyes of a little boy that behind the scenes was surviving daily horrendous pain - by no fault of his own.

Now let's imagine - can YOU imagine - being hated at the deepest level, just because you were born? Can you imagine - being a baby - a toddler - a teen...knowing the person you are suppose to love, call "daddy" and obey - hates you to his ultimate core. NO most can't even fathom.

This is the world, this little boy, Cory, my brother, was born into. He did nothing wrong, except be born. He was loved deeply by our mother. He was your typical child, adventurous, loved to experiment, ride bikes, and he LOVED THE DUKES OF HAZZARD!!

Cory loved to watch the Dukes - all their adventures, their shenanigans in the General Lee...he couldn't get enough. He was hoot and holler. The joy on his face - made me smile from ear to ear. Those are days I remember well, when my brother was having so much fun and we would laugh so hard. 

Right after he got this tricycle as a gift - he decided that it would be named the General Lee and that he was going to go and drive fast and do some stunts just like in the show.  No one knew what he was doing - till I heard him yell "Yea=Haaaa." I went running around the corner just as he was pedaling as fast as he could go off the picnic table and before my mom or I could stop him...he was in the air and tumbling down bike and Cory and all. 

He was on the ground and my mother went running over. he crawed from under the trike and yelled "Yee-Haaaa!!!"
Mom wasn't pleased. She didn't yell, as she wanted to make sure he was ok, then went on to explain why this is dangerous and why he shouldn't' ever don it again.

This was the beginning of Cory feeling the wind in his hair and the freedom of speed, well as fast as you can go on a trike on a short picnic table, HAHAHAH. He was in control...him and only him. No one was going to take that moment away from him, ever. For many years to come he would tell the story and later in years he told me what that moment meant.

The freedom that he felt for the first time in his life. There were no thoughts controlling his head or body, there wasn't an adult male controlling what he could and couldn't wear or could and couldn't do...it was his, the speed and the air...and that would be his drive to keep going for the rest of his life.

Cory - would say he was a challenge, he didn't like authority, he fought long and hard for what was right, and he never gave up trying to right the bad in his life...but most of all - as many of you have experienced. - he loved and he loved deeply...and he would do just about anything for anyone. 

What is your wind in your hair? Are you changing the world in your little way???? 

Make a difference, give away to others...your skills, your love, your passions...help others. Life is way too short not too.

Keep on giving folks - keep on giving.

More stories - as I can pull them out.

March 13, 1977 Cory was born. I went to my grandparents house, 8 hours away, when he was born and was so excited to be brought back home so that I could meet my little brother. This little guy was a fighter from the beginning! Right away he was a survivor and beat all odds.

He was born at Walter Reed Hospital, we lived in Ft. Meade MD at the time. When my mother went into labor things went sideways. This was a teaching hospital. I remember my mother telling us that the cord was wrapped around my brothers neck and as they were delivering him, he turned blue and couldn't breathe. My mother was very scared and worried. Yet, Cory fought and fought hard and made it out of the immediate danger, within hours of being born.

Most of you knew Cory as an adult, he was just as carefree and free of fear when he was younger. He would take risks...like riding his bike at age 3 down the hill behind our house.  It didn't matter what it was, this little one had no fear! NONE and as you all know...not much changed as he grew older.

We knew that if he could survive that - he could survive anything. Little did we know what was going to be ahead of him or us. Cory and I were always close, we looked after each other - in our own ways. Cory loved to play, he loved to be with me doing fun stuff - when we were little he was right by my side, most of the time. Riding big wheels, holiday fun, or watching "Eight is Enough."  He was my shadow...how things were also so sideways with as much as we were together, I will never really quite know, what I do know is a love that we had as siblings - would ride us through some really hard times.

Stay tuned for more....
"Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option." - Pennie

(this picture is Cory at 13 months.)

My brother's angelversary is about a month away. I have been contemplating this date for a few weeks now. I find the gaps in time, from when I last wrote a blog, to today becomes further and further apart. Maybe I am tiring of it, maybe there isn't anything to say, or maybe, just maybe - the right thing to say - hasn't come yet.

I have decided though, over the course of the next 30+ days or so, I am going to share memories of my brother through writings here, his art, his writings, and my reflections. 

I hope for one thing - I hope you will see what many didn't see and at times I DIDN'T SEE. I hope you get to know the complex man, whose brain was frozen at times, as a little boy. A little boy with no control over what was happening in his life, to his body, mind, or soul. I hope that you see the true HERO he was and that you will know him deeper and more intimately, as we head into a year of him finally being at PEACE.

Hug your siblings - as they won't always be here, don't take advantage, don't try and fix them....stop listen, ask, and be intentional and REALLY TRULY get to know them, at a level no one else does. 

More to come...I hope you will be here and join me. 

No longer is the time to be quiet and hidden.
His suffering will never being in vain.

Dedicated to Cory T Barker, the man, the myth, the legend.

xo
​Pennie

Seems a little cliche to say, where did time go? The reality is that is life. Yesterday was 6 months since my brother passed away. Seems like very frequently, since then, something pops up, shows up, or sent to me about him. Cleaning out some boxes last week I came across this picture. Cory carried this picture with him all these years.

There is so much amazingness in this photo...one of his favorite places, with many of his favorite people - church camp. 16 years old...and if you read the caption, that is in his handwriting..."Cory 93' 4 months free from childhood hell" (church camp). This sums up so much for him. Freedom to not be scared to go back home after this fun weekend, freedom from worry, fear, physical pain, shame, silence, and the list goes on.

As I look at his face here and in some other photos during this same trip...I see the little boy that longed to be loved and cared for by his biological father, which my brother never received. A little boy that survived every single day with a little hope for better in the future, hope that one day he would have a family, and prove the world that his past wouldn't define the type of father that he would be.

Against all odds Cory made it to 45 years old. Through rape, incest, physical beatings that left damage he had to deal with his entire life, emotional scars that would never be healed, addiction, homelessness - Cory fought every single day to be the best that he could and knew to be. Always doing what he could to help others.

Firsts are hard when you lose someone, regret comes in, shame swings by, but most of all love engulfs your heart and mind. His suffering wasn't in vain, anyone that knows Cory, knows he would sit and listen and help - he would have deep conversations, he would share words that many would think he was rambling, and in reality he was giving great wisdom. 

Dedicating today to Cory...6 months has passed, and Cory, your legacy lives on. Love you Bro. Live Life Love

This picture popped up today, in my photo memories on my phone. It hit me, I was the "Only One Left."

All these years, even though we didn't always see eye-to-eye, we were connected not only by blood, but by trauma. My brother was the only person on earth who knew what I had been through, he was the only person who experienced what I had and, even more.

There was a time when he denied anything happened to me, that was a hard time, but the trauma clouding his memories and mental health. After that we sat and we talked, we didn't share a lot of details for a long time. My brother wanted to protect me from the details of what he had to go through. He didn't want anyone to carry the memories of his trauma and to cause extra burden or pain for anyone else. 

Although we experienced many of the same horrific things at the hands of our biological father, my brother suffered physical beatings as well. Sometimes till he peed blood. This young boy, had to suffer so much, physically, emotionally, sexually...and none of that was his choice.

I realized seeing this picture (yes, all the smiles fake), that I am the last one. The last one that experienced what "he" did. He had abused all of us, my mother and brother and myself.

Incest, child abuse - is detrimental. My brother suffered many years alone. He did what he could to survive. I have reflected a lot since he passed in September. I was clouded by my privilege, having a roof, food, a job and the ability to keep all those. My life hasn't been easy, but through it all, I was able to manage.

My brother always said he wasn't strong, that he could be buckled at his knees over things and it was getting harder and harder to get back up. If he could have seen himself through my eyes:

• Strength and courage
• Passion
• Love beyond measure
• Hard working
• Talented artist
• Survivor
• Unconditional friendship
• Adaptability. .....AND SO MUCH MORE.

I was able to tell him the morning that he died, that I loved him. I meant it. We had a connection, no one will ever understand. We spent so much time together growing up, when I could drive we would do Burger King drive-thru together in the afternoons. We spent more time together than probably most. I cherish all the time, the good, the tough, and the bad. I would't take any of those moments away.

I am ok - I think of him daily and so blessed to have his little on in my life.

One thing that I want you all to think about - pause, hug each other, love one another. Don't let life get in the way of conversations, time, fun, love, and being together. I guarantee the job, friends, and other things won't be there when you really really need your family - to stand by your side and hold you up. 

Life is short, we must live the fullest life possible. Don't end up regretting how things ended up, that you didn't make the call, that you didn't say I Love You, or that didn't take the time to spend with people - take a pause and make life a priority. Hug each other.

xo Pennie
"Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option."

Dedicated to Cory 03/10/1977-9/26/2022
and our mother 11/26/1951-03/26/2014

'I have been doing a lot of work around what angle of my story do I need to tell. I can talk all day about all the incidences that happened throughout my childhood, but I am not convince that my story alone is going to help others. I do believe though, what my background and history is, is vital to the entire picture. But more importantly is how I personally made it through the trauma, how I am surviving day to day life and what I havre done to continue to heal and make a difference in the world. So here we are, now I am trying to figure out what that fully means. 

I don't have all the answers, but I do know the work that I have done to get where I am today. I am no billionaire, I don't have some executive mucky-muck job, but I am a mom, I have a decent job, and I have created some spaces for victims and survivors to move to the next level, and I am thriving in small daily ways.

It wasn't always easy and there are days and moments that are definitely not easy even today, 26 years later. It is too easy, in our society, to be re-victimized and to experience victim blaming. I wish it were as easy as pulling up your boot straps and moving on. For some, I think it is possible, but for many, it's a journey.

I love reading other survivors memoirs and self-help books. You never know what you will learn. Everyone's journey is so different, I am constantly learning something new that helps me get to the next level. One consistent way to begin and continue healing (I have experienced as well as read in many self-help books), in many forms of trauma, is to write. Write, write, write and write again.  For me, the act or writing, being able to get the thoughts out of my head on paper, really began the healing process. This isn't for everyone. But there is something cathartic about writing.

If you are looking for a first step in your healing, no matter what the trauma is - addiction, grief, loss, abuse, childhood trauma - try writing. Here are some links to help you with some prompts to get your started.

Writing Prompts

"Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option." -p. saum
pennie

This photo is my mother, brother and I. We lived in Ft. Meade, MD at the time.My brother was 4 or 5 and I was 9 or 10. At this point in time I had been being molested and raped and sodomized for many years and one of two years, at this point, for my brother.

Every single picture that you will see of any of us, the entire family, just us kids or the three of us like above, was like this...the smile. The acting, the mask...this is what we all did and we were good at it. Recently my brother sat down with me to talk about what happened over the years and the impact it has had on his life. He and I have rarely talked about the abuse let alone any details. My brother was brave and vulnerable to share what he did publicly.

It was hard for me to hear at times, still to this day brings up so much for me - not protecting him from the monster and how I failed him. It is so hard to realize how much hurt and pain someone you love has endured. At a very young age. Abuse sucks, the impacts of abuse, beatings, being raped, sodomized and beaten down - changes your entire psyche. 

I have heard it time and time again. Get over it, it's been 25 years, if it were only that easy. I have come to realize that one thing that survivors hope for and yearn for is for their abuser to feel remorse. For the abuser to truly feel badly for what they have done. For the abuser to pay their restitution without a fight, for them to own the damage that they have caused and for them to make those hurts right. 

In most of the cases that I have heard about, this has been a problem, rarely, very rarely do abusers fully admit what they have done is wrong. Ours is no different, in fact in person, when I faced him for the first time in 25 years - he said, verbatim, "I see you have so much hate in your heart for me. God can help."

"God can help"???? Seriously. They don't feel remorse or guilt, most of the time, and our abuser is no different. 

My brother, sharing his story, made me realize that there is a ton of work to be done. There are so many abuse survivors that need support, there is all of society who needs to be educated and there are the laws and sentencing structure that puts people right back out to hurt more children.

Please be watching our blogs and videos...things are changing and we are going to make a difference. Hopefully you will join us.

"Being quiet and hidden is no longer an option."