Content warning: This article discusses sexual assault and mental health.
Let me start by saying this: As a survivor of sexual abuse, you are never the one in the wrong. The predator who abused you is, no matter what.
According to the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN), one out of nine girls and one out of three women, one out of 20 boys and one out of 33 men are sexually assaulted in cases that may or may not be reported.
You may be thinking, “I don’t know anyone who has been assaulted.” I'll be that one out of three for you, then, or maybe you are someone who has experienced sexual assault.
There are also people who do not identify as someone who has experienced sexual abuse but have gone through either threatened or attempted abuse. These people may have not reported or processed their assaults. But that doesn’t make their situation any less valid.
I am just one of many numbers in the system now, though I have already been an unreported survivor of a predator. I am choosing to use my voice now after years of therapy and growth. I choose now because a breach of my body and boundaries has happened again, and I wasn’t even aware of it until three years after it happened.
I know, strange, right? How can I be a victim of a predator and not know right away?
Because this time, it involved artificial intelligence (AI). Without my consent, someone used AI to remove clothing in a photo of myself and others.
In my opinion, it shouldn’t even be a question as to whether or not this abuse through AI is sexual assault. It’s exploitation, plain and simple. Technology is moving faster than the laws protecting us, and that’s terrifying.
People use AI as a shield to say “it’s not real.” But when someone’s real face is used without consent, the emotional damage is there. There’s nothing “unreal” about humiliation, fear or trauma.
In recent years, there have been tons of AI explicit images or videos created of minors. There is a segment in a 60 minutes episode titled “Dark Sides of Artificial Intelligence” that unveils how easily these images are made.
The segment talks about a case from a New Jersey high school. The student’s story is quite like mine. We were both unaware of our involvement, but all of the student body had heard a rumor about the AI images and videos going around with no idea of who it affected or how serious it was.
These aren’t just isolated incidents — it’s part of a much larger and rapidly growing problem that our society still isn’t prepared to confront.
Lawmakers and tech companies need to take accountability and act like people’s safety matters as much as innovation does. Because every time something like this abuse happens, it’s not just data being violated — it’s a person being harmed.
Change needs to happen within other parts of society too. People need to more quickly believe survivors — especially when technology is involved. We’ve built a culture that wants evidence, screenshots and proof before it gives empathy. But sometimes the harm doesn’t leave physical marks; it’s the kind that eats away at your peace, your trust and your sense of control.
Survivors shouldn’t have to convince people that what happened to us matters. Emotional and psychological pain deserves the same recognition as physical wounds.
To change society, I think education has to be part of the solution. We teach digital literacy in schools, but not digital ethics. We teach students how to use AI tools, but not how easily those same tools can destroy a life when used abusively.
If we want to stop this cycle, we need to teach empathy, responsibility and boundaries — online and offline. Because predators aren’t born from technology; they use technology as another way to harm. And now the damage spreads at the speed of a click.
If you are a survivor, you are not to blame. I’m not going to lie and say that some experiences won’t change parts of your life, because they will. But abuse does not define your worth, and it does not define your future. You have the option of reclaiming your power and turning whatever was supposed to break you into something that potentially strengthens you and others.
You’ve already survived the unthinkable. And you are still here.
Lexi Buckner is a photographer for The Beacon. She can be reached at bucknera27@edu.up.
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