KRYSTEN'S STORY — HER VOICE. HER TRUTH.

ANADARKO – We're continuing to spotlight our community voices because around here, we believe everyone deserves a platform to be heard, to be seen, and to know their story matters.

And before we continue, we want to make one thing very clear. We will not tolerate hateful comments, victim blaming, harassment, or any attacks directed toward the women who have chosen to share their stories.

It takes an incredible amount of courage to speak about trauma, and everyone who has trusted us with their story deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. Any comments that violate this will be removed, and repeat offenders may be blocked.

So, today, we're stepping back and giving Krysten the floor. This is her story, told in her own words.

“I was only 15 years old when this happened to me. It was around the 2005–2006 school year when I was first introduced to Pahcoddy. At the time, he was very friendly. He was always smiling, joking, and teasing, and he came across as a genuinely nice person. But by the following school year, 2007–2008, things started to change, and not for the better. What had started as a friendly attitude and welcoming demeanor slowly began to escalate and cross a line. He started brushing up against me, but always in a way that could be brushed off as an accident in a crowded hallway. Then the inappropriate comments about my body started, and over time, they became bolder and more frequent.

At first, I ignored it and gave him the benefit of the doubt because he had always been so nice to me. He joked with me, made me feel welcome, and seemed like the same genuinely kind person everyone else saw. I kept telling myself I was probably just overthinking the bold comments and reading too much into what was happening.

But whenever I was alone in the school hallways, the comments began turning into physical contact. He started by grabbing my butt whenever he found me alone. Because of that, I began taking an alternate route to track practice so I could avoid running into him and avoid those encounters. But it wasn't long before he started showing up on that route too, driving a Gator. Every time he passed by me on my new route, he always had some kind of weird or inappropriate comment to make. By then, I knew I wasn't just overthinking it anymore, and I did everything I could to avoid him.

One day, I had lent my psychology book to a friend and didn't get it back in time for class. Because of that, I was given detention for not having my book. When I arrived, Pahcoddy was the staff member overseeing detention, and there was only one other student there with me. I tried to keep myself busy by working on homework until detention was over. When it ended, the other student hurried out while I was packing up my books, leaving me alone with him.

Pahcoddy was sitting near the only exit, so I had to walk past him to leave. As I was leaving, he made small talk, and the conversation didn't seem unusual. But as I walked past him, he grabbed my hand and my backside, pulled me toward him, and leaned in as if he was going to kiss me. I quickly reacted by turning my face into his shoulder and tapping him on the back. I pretended I had misunderstood what he was doing and acted as though he had simply wanted a hug because, at that moment, all I wanted was to get away safely. Once I was finally able to pull away and leave, he slapped me on the rear and told me he would see me another time.

I did my best to keep my composure and decided it was time to go to the counselor's office to tell her what had just happened. I couldn't take it anymore. What had just happened wasn't something I had imagined or something I was reading too much into. I knew it was real. So when I got to her office, I told her everything that had happened leading up to that day and how I just couldn't take it anymore.

I proceeded to explain how, over time, his behavior had continued to escalate and how I was becoming more and more uncomfortable, with this last incident being the final straw. The words she spoke next have stayed with me ever since because, in that moment, I finally felt seen and heard for the first time.

She told me, "He has several red flags on his record and this may be the thing that gets him out of here." Those words gave me the reassurance and confirmation I desperately needed. For the first time, I realized it wasn't me. I wasn't overthinking it, I wasn't overreacting, and I had done the right thing by speaking up for myself. She then took me straight to the principal's office so I could tell him everything I had just shared with her.

When we got to the principal's office, I told him everything that had led up to what happened that day. I also shared my fear and concern that if he was doing this to me, he could very well be doing the same thing to other girls as well. What happened next was a huge letdown and left me feeling completely defeated. Instead of taking action or investigating deeper into my concerns, it felt like he dismissed them, saying, "Let's not make accusations. Did he touch your back end with the back of his hand or with the open part of his hand?" As if that somehow mattered. No matter what part of his hand he used, what he did was wrong.

I then said, "He literally grabbed a handful of my back end. Not only that, but he also looks down my shirt when he walks by me, and he brushes his arm across my chest when he cuts me off in the hallway or intentionally walks into me. This happens in the school hallways. If you don't believe me, then check the cameras."

He then asked if the attempted kiss had happened in the hallway. I told him it happened in the classroom during detention, to which he responded, "Okay, then we'll just make sure you don't have class with him, and you can avoid him. Problem solved."

I was in complete disbelief. The thing was, I didn't even have class with him. This had happened during detention, so his solution didn't address what had happened or protect me from it happening again. It felt like everything I had just shared had been dismissed.

At that moment, I felt so small and so embarrassed. All the reassurance I had felt just moments earlier quickly disappeared. As I left the principal's office feeling completely unheard, the counselor pulled me aside. She apologized again and quietly said, "Maybe one day, if we get more solid evidence on him..."

After I reported that incident, a few teachers began giving lectures in class about how we should never make up stories about someone just because we got detention and how false accusations could ruin someone's life. Sitting there and hearing those comments after finally finding the courage to speak up only made me feel even more isolated. As for Pahcoddy, after he found out I had reported him, he would just glare at me whenever he saw me.

And as time went on, I also became more aware of the inappropriate comments made by some of the male coaches, and it only made me feel even less safe at school. One coach even told me to never be caught alone near the dumpsters because I was "pretty enough to be raped."

For years, I carried the weight of what happened in silence. I lived with the feeling of being isolated and unheard, wondering if I should have spoken louder, made a scene, or kept fighting. I still worried that because he got away with it, someone else could have been hurt too.

It wasn't until years later that I came across a post on social media about several Anadarko coaches who were now working at Apache and were being reported for the same behavior I had experienced firsthand. I immediately knew what the post was about because I had lived through it myself.

But what hurt me almost as much as the allegations themselves was the comment section. So many people were victim-blaming, saying that if anything had truly happened, the victims were just as much at fault because they didn't report it.

I was enraged. After reading those comments, I responded and explained that reporting doesn't always mean something will be done because I had reported what happened to me and was ignored. And for the first time, I also publicly named the person who had assaulted me.

The next thing I knew, my inbox was flooded with messages from several women sharing stories that were painfully similar to mine. As I read through each one, I realized the fear I had carried with me for years had been true. He hadn't stopped after what happened to me. Instead, his behavior continued and became even more aggressive.

When he was finally sentenced, it didn't erase what happened or give any of us those years back. But it did bring validation. For years, I questioned myself and wondered if speaking up had mattered. Seeing him finally held accountable reminded me that I had been telling the truth all along.

And awareness doesn't stop with simply sharing our stories. It begins with us by educating and empowering the next generation. That's why I teach my children, and every child I have the privilege of coaching, to trust their instincts, use their voice, and know that they deserve to feel safe.

"You should never feel like it's your job to make an adult feel comfortable. Adults should never make you feel uncomfortable, unsafe, or afraid. If an adult says or does something that makes you feel gross, unsure, or unsafe, tell someone. And if that person doesn't listen, keep telling people until someone does. Your voice matters, your feelings matter, and you deserve to be heard."

– Krysten Smith

To everyone who follows and supports not only us, but these incredibly strong and courageous women, thank you. Thank you for helping us create a safe space where survivors feel heard, supported, and believed. Your kindness, encouragement, and willingness to listen remind survivors that they are not alone, and that their voices truly matter.