What followed was an intense backlash—from peers, local authorities, and her own community. Instead of receiving protection, Daisy was vilified. Her story, captured in the documentary Audrie & Daisy, became a national symbol of how America fails its young survivors.
But even that headline doesn’t tell the whole story.
After her assault, Daisy faced relentless bullying from classmates, social media users, and even adults in her town. Her family had to move homes multiple times. She endured self-harm, hospitalizations, and eventually turned to activism as a way to transform her pain into purpose.
She co-founded SafeBAE, an organization dedicated to ending sexual assault among middle and high school students. Through speaking engagements, public campaigns, and media appearances, Daisy became a beacon for other survivors.
What’s rarely mentioned—but deeply relevant—is that Daisy was also reportedly bullied by her own siblings. This kind of abuse is often downplayed as normal sibling rivalry, but in Daisy’s case, it compounded her already overwhelming trauma.
Sibling bullying can take the form of emotional, verbal, or even physical abuse. Research shows that it can be as psychologically damaging as peer bullying—or worse—because it comes from someone inside your supposed safe space. Victims of sibling bullying often experience depression, anxiety, and lower self-esteem well into adulthood.
In a family already reeling from tragedy (Daisy’s father died in a car crash when she was 9), the absence of unconditional support only deepened her isolation.
Despite her advocacy, Daisy continued to struggle. She dealt with PTSD, depression, and the persistent weight of being a public figure for trauma. Her brother died by suicide in 2018, and two years later, Daisy took her own life at 23.
Her death was a profound loss—but it was not an isolated event. It was the tragic result of unresolved trauma, compounding abuse, and societal failure at multiple levels.
Daisy’s story forces us to confront the silences we still tolerate: in our homes, in our systems, and in ourselves. Sibling bullying isn’t just a family issue—it’s a mental health and societal issue. Ignoring it puts already vulnerable people at even greater risk.
At The Echo Movement, we’re committed to lifting the voices behind the headlines. Daisy Coleman was more than a survivor—she was a whole person, with pain that ran deeper than most ever saw. To truly honor her, we must not only speak her name, but also confront the hidden systems and silences that failed her.
If you or someone you know is struggling, please seek help. And if that struggle is happening at home, know this: your pain is real, and you deserve support.
We’re building the Echo Movement with the same bold energy you see in the world’s most forward-thinking platforms.
John Barnett spent decades building planes and doing the right thing. When he blew the whistle on Boeing’s safety failures, the company retaliated with isolation, harassment, and psychological warfare. In 2024, he died by suicide. His story isn’t just about corporate retaliation—it’s about workplace bullying that kills. And we refuse to stay silent.
Kenneth Suttner was only 17 when workplace bullying pushed him to take his own life. Abused by his manager at a Missouri Dairy Queen and ignored by the systems meant to protect him, Kenneth’s story isn’t just a tragedy—it’s a warning. We need to face the truth: toxic work environments don’t just hurt. They kill. And young workers deserve better.
In January 2024, the academic world was shaken by the heartbreaking suicide of Dr. Antoinette “Bonnie” Candia-Bailey, the Vice President of Student Affairs at Lincoln University in Missouri. Her death wasn’t just a personal tragedy—it became a stark reflection of a pervasive and often unspoken issue: workplace bullying in higher education.
