By: Rev. Tyler Schwaller
April 23, 2026
When people call GCSRW’s confidential toll-free number (1-800-523-8390) for support around harm they’ve experienced, it’s common for them to share concerns about the response, or lack thereof, from the person(s) to whom they reported the situation or made a formal complaint. They often ask me, “Is there something I might be missing? Is there anything I’ve shared that would make you understand how they’ve responded (or not)?”
I understand the spirit of these questions. Too often, there is a disjunction between the support people are seeking when they report harm and the actual response they receive. What amazes me is that these are rarely angry queries, which they understandably could be. People just want to know what’s happening and why.
Because ultimately, they just want someone to help.
I almost always give some version of the same reply: “There are obviously things I don’t know about these circumstances, and I’m not in their head… But honestly, I think that, most often, people don’t know what to do. Sometimes, people do intentionally try to cover up misconduct, but perhaps even more frequently, they just don’t know how to provide a holistic response. And when they don’t know what to do, they do what’s most expedient, and that’s usually not what you actually need. So, I would guess you’re not missing anything. They’re probably not prepared to address what you’ve shared in a nuanced, thoroughgoing way. And that’s not okay. It’s not fair or helpful to you. But this is what happens when people aren’t sure what to do.”
It might sound like a harsh assessment to suggest that people don’t know what they’re doing, but I don’t say it in judgment. I say it because it’s my experience observing both my own reactions and those of others. To the extent possible, I try to be real with people because transparency is a key principle of trauma-informed care.
I’m a teacher at heart, and I believe deeply in people’s capacity to learn and grow, so when someone doesn’t know something, I want nothing more than to seek understanding together.
I want every person who could ever possibly receive a report of harassment, abuse, or any type of harm to be prepared to meet people where they are.
I don’t always know what to do. And I don’t always get things right. But I’ve learned enough to know where to start: with the person in front of me.
I really try not to make broad generalizations, but I want to suggest two challenges that I think can be barriers to responding well when someone shares ways they’ve been harmed.
First, in cultures with a strong legal presumption of innocence (i.e., “innocent until proven guilty"), there can be a tendency to feel the need to “prove” something “really” happened before taking action. The legal concept is an important protection against punishment without the opportunity for a defense, but there are a lot of possible responses that fall between doing nothing/little and punishing someone by curtailing rights and freedoms.
There may be a time and place for soliciting evidence that could substantiate the basis for punitive actions, but often, that’s not what people are actually asking for when they make a report, at least not initially. And so, investigations aren’t always the necessary first step. You don’t need to “prove” that someone harassed another person to set expectations that harassment is unacceptable or to have a conversation that aims to foster deeper understanding of the harmful impacts of harassing conduct. Yet sometimes people who report harassment or other forms of abuse hear nothing for weeks, then receive an investigation report with findings they never asked for in the first place. That’s the product of legalism (and, I would argue, poorly understood legalism), not a culture of care.
In my experience, the most common things survivors want are for the harm to stop and for it not to happen again to themselves or anyone else.
This leads to the second challenge: knowing how to stop and prevent harm. Obviously, doing something requires a good deal of care and intention. But most of us haven’t been taught how to engage with and support people through significant interpersonal harm. What are the options? Not knowing can stunt our responses.
Personally, I can really spin my wheels when I’m not sure what is the “right” thing to do. It’s easier to do nothing or to go through the motions of trying and then say, “Well, that’s the best I can do,” if things don’t go well. So, I get it that people don’t know what they don’t know and then don’t do well handling things they didn’t know how to deal with in the first place.
Unfortunately, that’s not good enough. If we could ever possibly be in a position of leadership or trust for which someone might report harm to us, it’s important to be prepared. How we respond, or not, can cause further harm. I’ve had phone calls with complainants who are just as hurt by the response to their complaint as they are about the original cause for complaint.
These are things we must learn so that we can show up well for each other. For various life reasons, and grounded in my values and commitments, I started learning relevant ethical frameworks and practical strategies over time. I read and listen to people like Mariame Kaba, adrienne maree brown, Mia Mingus, Mimi Kim, Sara Ahmed, and Mia Birdsong. I take inspiration from incredible resources for communal accountability, including Creative Interventions (free), TransformHarm.org (free), and Fumbling Toward Repair. The Barnard Center’s series on Transformative Justice provides an excellent primer, and I think about their webinar on restorative justice frequently.
Start anywhere. The important thing is to know that care, repair, and transformation are possible.
It’s okay to figure things out as they unfold. People’s needs are different, and even similar situations might be shaped by dynamics that necessitate different types of responses.
There’s no checklist that guarantees an ideal response every time. But I think we can start with a different question to know where to begin.
Instead of asking, “What happened? Can we prove it? And, if proven, what should be the consequences?” we can consider:
What will it take to make things okay?
Feel the difference in your body. The first set of questions feels restrictive to me. I feel myself tense up because these questions are inherently antagonistic. Someone is right, someone is wrong, and we have to prove it to know whose side we’re taking and what we’re going to do about it.
Asking what it will take to make things okay is a daunting question, but it’s also a spacious question. It’s grounded it reality: something is not okay. Consider this: even if someone completely fabricates allegations of wrongdoing (difficult to measure but incredibly rare), something is not going well, whether it’s a matter of complex interpersonal dynamics or an individual’s own distressed health and well-being.
So, start there. If you have a report or a complaint of harm, you already know that something is not okay.
Ultimately, if we want to show up with compassion to that reality, then the question is what it will take to make things okay.
The question invites possibility. It’s premised on the idea that things can and should be okay but that it will take some work to get there. Some of that work may be immediate, and some may be longer-term. Is there medical, emotional, and/or spiritual care that someone needs right now? Are there strategies to make certain spaces safer, such as to identify trusted people to accompany an individual and/or keep strategic watch over social dynamics with readiness to intervene? Is there someone or a group of people to whom the accused offender might listen if the reporter wants someone to talk to that individual about why certain behaviors are harmful and how they need to stop? Might it be possible to provide alternative means to continue accessing the same programming, such as remote access or agreements to engage in or refrain from certain groups or activities for a time to limit possibilities for contact? Can we help make connections to social service providers with the necessary skills and knowledge?
Nothing above is punitive (it’s important to keep in mind that there’s a difference between discomfort and punishment; just because someone doesn’t like something doesn’t mean it’s punitive). You don’t need a formal investigation to create a safety plan. You don’t need to prove someone did something wrong to have a supervisory/educational conversation about appropriate ways to interact and expectations to refrain from harassment and abuse.
In my experience, more is possible when we start with the question of what it will take to make things okay, because then we’re embarking on a process of figuring it out together. We’re making space to take concerns seriously and to build capacity for ensuring each person has what they need. That includes taking concern for the accused. If someone is doing harm, something is not okay for them. What do they need to stop the harm and prevent its recurrence? Is it deeper understanding? Is it serious social, emotional, and psychological work? Is it resourcing to be well and to do better? Or do we need to set a boundary for the sake of everyone’s safety and well-being? Do we need to consider the possibility that this is not someone who is going to live out shared commitments to communal values and accountability?
“What will it take to make things okay?” is a question that begets more questions, which is the point—to begin a process of healing and repair. It’s not sufficient on its own. Ideally, we will progress to asking, “What will it take to repair the harm?” and then, “What will it take to transform attitudes, practices, and ways of being, individually and collectively, to ensure that this is a community where everyone can be well and thrive?”
But it’s a start.
And for people of faith, it’s a question that invites us to return to who we are called to be. For Christians, this is what Jesus says is the basis for judgement: did you do what you could to make sure that those who were most vulnerable had what they needed to be okay? (Matthew 25:31–46).
If you don’t know what to do when someone reports harm to you, take a deep breath, remind yourself of your capacity and commitment to showing up in care, don’t spin your wheels thinking fifteen steps ahead to an outcome that a person might not even be asking for, and start with awareness that, whatever is happening, things are not okay, which means that the first important question we can ask is what it will take to make things okay.
Rev. Tyler Schwaller is the director of sexual ethics for the General Commission on the Status and Role of Women.