Lounging poolside on the roof deck of a friend’s gym in Nairobi, I was desperate to relax. I’d just spent 10 days reporting on sexual violence in Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo after receiving a tip that toddlers were being raped in a small village in eastern DRC. This was in February of 2014.I’d gone on a few emotionally intense international work trips by that point, and they weren’t getting any easier. Burning under that Kenyan sunshine, I couldn’t get the awful images and stories out of my head. But I was also dreading the return home to New York City. I knew that few...…Lounging poolside on the roof deck of a friend’s gym in Nairobi, I was desperate to relax. I’d just spent 10 days reporting on sexual violence in Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo after receiving a tip that toddlers were being raped in a small village in eastern DRC. This was in February of 2014.I’d gone on a few emotionally intense international work trips by that point, and they weren’t getting any easier. Burning under that Kenyan sunshine, I couldn’t get the awful images and stories out of my head. But I was also dreading the return home to New York City. I knew that few...WW…