** TRIGGER WARNING** Sexual assault.
Please don't read if you know this may be triggering or unhelpful to you. I am not trying to be gratuitous, I am trying to give an honest account of my experiences as a woman as I don't believe them to be uncommon. I am hopeful that in doing this I can help other women feel that they are less alone in their experience, and maybe give an insight to those who do not live with suffering sexual harassment and abuse on a regular basis.
If you want to skip the incidents and just read about why I never told anyone, and what I think we can do differently - just miss the first section in italics and read ahead. If you are in New Zealand, and you do read this and things come up for you you can call victim support on 0800 842 846.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was nine years old an older boy I had not met before showed me his penis in a spa pool. It was the first time I'd seen a penis that didn't belong to my Dad or my brother. He wanted to see something in return so I showed him my hand which made him angry. I didn't know what to do (there were no adults around at this time) so I showed him my flat nine year old chest which placated him for a while. Then when I refused to cater to his next request (oral sex) he chased me into the house and pinned me down. Then someone (an adult relative) arrived home and he got off me and pretended like nothing had happened.*
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Me around age 10 wearing my Brownie sash.
When I was eleven years old I went to a very small country Primary school. During Summer, we were allowed to have supervised swimming at lunchtimes which was great because it was hot and we were kids. For a period of time, during swimming an older boy would chase and grab me then try to forcefully penetrate me with his fingers under the water. This happened many times and I always fought him because it really hurt me, and I didn't understand why he was doing it. He was much bigger than I was. He would just laugh at me while he did it while I tried not to drown. It was a game to him.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was fourteen years old I started going out with a guy my age. He, and other friends were sleeping over at a party at my house for my fourteenth birthday. We thought we'd try to give sex a go. I didn't really know how it worked, and neither did he. Long story short, we didn't have sex and we broke up shortly thereafter. He told all the boys in my year that I was too tight to have sex with so he dumped me. Unsurprisingly, I was teased about it at school by strangers mercilessly**.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was fifteen years old I was at a party at my boyfriends house. I was extremely intoxicated. He wanted to have sex with me. I told him no - we had had sex before but I was not interested at that time because of my drunken state. I don't even know how many times I said that word. In the end I was so drunk and tired I just lay there and let him do it because it was just easier that way. We never spoke about it and remained friends.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was sixteen years old I was walking from a friends house (mentioned above ^) to High School for a Young Enterprise Scheme meeting. A man stopped me on the street to ask me the time. He then grabbed my wrist and tried to drag me into a bush. I managed to wriggle out of his grip and run to the Massey shops, then waited until I was sure he was gone before continuing on to my meeting. This was in the afternoon on a main thoroughfare. I was wearing a long brown velvet skirt (it was the 90's), a black shirt, and a smart/casual brown jacket. I thought I looked like a businesswoman.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was eighteen years old I went on a couple of dates with a guy I had known some years earlier through High School. We had only ever kissed. One night we were at a party with mutual friends. We were playing drinking games and I became very intoxicated. He took me to a bedroom and locked me in there with him. A friend was concerned so was banging on the door trying to get him to unlock it. I don't remember any of this - she told me the next day when she was checking that I was ok. I can vaguely remember the sex. I remember trying to seem enthusiastic even though I was barely conscious - it was what you were supposed to do, right?
In the morning, I remembered that I had my period. The sex had been had while I had a tampon in and it was very stuck and took some time to dislodge. I never heard from or saw this boy again.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was maybe 24 years old I went to a Halloween party down the road from my house at the home of an acquaintance where I was meeting friends. On arriving to the party someone - I have no idea who because the hallway was as crowded as a moshpit - grabbed me through my dress between the legs and tried to insert their fingers into me. I writhed away from their hold and screamed out exactly what had just happened. No-one in that crowd even asked me if I was ok - they just moved away from me like I was a crazy person.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Last week I was walking home from the dairy with my kids when an older man I know (he is a friendly fixture of the neighbourhood) stopped to say hi and talk to the kids. He gave me a bag of oranges even though I told him please, I don't need any oranges. We have an orange tree. He ignored me. He then tried to kiss me on the mouth and touch me in an inappropriate way. I left as quickly as I could. I felt like I was going to throw up. I have not felt comfortable walking to the dairy since.
These are just a few of the many incidents that I've dealt with over my life. There are many more but I don't think it's necessary or helpful to share all of them for you, reader, to understand my point. Women like me suffer incidents like this far too often.
And I know many women who have suffered far greater that I.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Harvey Weinstein allegations and the #metoo social media campaign have opened up an international dialogue around women's every-day experiences of sexual harassment and assault. Sadly, so far nothing I have read - none of the heartfelt personal statements from any public figures or strangers or friends or family have shocked me. Because, as you may already know, these experiences happen to women everywhere, every day.
The other commonality is that we don't tell anyone. And we carry the shame and guilt of the experience, and of not telling anyone. Discussing why this is, and how we can change things, is what I want to focus on today.
I never told anyone about what happened when I was nine. I think I might have told a therapist in my 20's, and probably some friends when I was older but I definitely never told anyone at the time. I can remember aspects of that day with crystal clarity, because even though I wasn't 100% sure what was happening, I was sure it was meaningful. I felt a mix of feelings - fear of getting in trouble for what had happened and excitement - that an older boy did things that demonstrated that he 'liked' me.
It's the same story with the incident when I was eleven. Even though I felt sick and disgusted and hurt and not an ounce of excitement. And even though I was asked by an adult if I was ok because it was apparent something was going on (supervised swimming) - I still said nothing. The adult who checked on me (the principal of the school) had previously referred to me in passing as 'a flirt'. I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but I didn't think it was good. And I was sure it was linked to attention from boys. So I was sure that if I told him what was actually happening to me I would get into trouble. Because I had somehow initiated things.
It took me until I was in my late 20's to even begin to consider those date rape stories as such. Even though I had said no and even though I was intoxicated and clearly not consenting. Because I felt that probably during sex I would have made some sort of consenting noise in order to speed the process along. Because I didn't want it to be happening, but felt powerless to stop it from happening. I stayed friends with one of the guys until the friendship ran its natural course. I put the incident down to a fumble on both our parts due to lack of knowledge of how sex was supposed to work. I never saw a need to tell anyone and in truth, I still don't feel mad at him. That second guy though - retrospectively - he was a predatory creep and I really should have told someone. But what do you say when this happens?
Teen me, wearing the same brown skirt.
I did tell someone about the incidents with strangers. I told friends, and I think I did tell my Mum about the man who grabbed me on the street. Telling someone about strangers acting dangerous didn't feel so awkward because strangers are the people we are told will do this to us. I didn't tell the police. It never even occurred to me that this was something I should do. Now I'm a parent and reading awful articles about guys trying to (and sometimes succeeding in) grab(bing) kids and young teens, I would call straight away. But I didn't know this then. And at the time, both my Mother and myself had had negative dealings with police. I had been given no reason to trust them to do anything if I did tell them.
I told my Murray about the recent incident immediately. I had already had an uncomfortable dealing with this person and had told Murray I felt unsafe around him. Murray went around and spoke to him that night to try to 'iron things out' and help me feel safer. I really appreciate it, because it was not an easy thing to do (this is a big guy from a different cultural background - he could have easily hit Murray) but I still feel unsafe. He knows where I live and work - how can I feel safe?
So why didn't I feel safe enough to tell anyone about most of these incidents at the time?
Because I thought all of them were somehow my fault.
While I remember being read Where Did I Come From vaguely as a young child, those awkward period discussions at Intermediate and seeing horrifying images of STI's at High School, I don't remember anything else in the way of sex education. I didn't feel I could talk to my parents openly about this sort of stuff. I remember my Dad catching me and the next door neighbour boy kissing behind a horse float when I was about five and him saying 'Don't let boys touch you.' He never said why, and I was actually a bit scared of boys for a while (five year olds are notoriously imaginative). What was implicit in that sentence though was that I was the gatekeeper of my body.
It doesn't seem that huge a leap to feel that if someone breached my body it was going to be my fault: 'Don't let.' = my job. So every time a boy touched me inappropriately, I felt I had failed to do my job. And if the adults in my life found out, I would be duly punished.
I don't think this feeling is unusual. Sure, other girls mightn't have had it said in those exact words. But maybe when they were older someone said: 'You're not going out dressed like that are you?' or 'You shouldn't be out so late at night' or 'You shouldn't have got so drunk.' Every single one of these statements puts the ownership of women's safety squarely on their own shoulders.
Every one of those statements implies that it's our fault if someone else breaches our bodies.
That we failed.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
How have these things impacted on my life? Well, they certainly haven't helped with my social anxiety that's for sure. I doubt my own judgment or my ability to accurately assess situations. I have trust issues - generally, with humans. Having been penetrated before I ever knew self love, I have never felt my body was my own to love. I was promiscuous from very young - sex just never felt like much of a big deal because my body never felt like it was my own. I do not feel strong, or capable of being strong. I feel tired and worn down and angry.
And when incidents like the most recent one happen these old feelings become stronger, my anxiety worsens and I develop insomnia. So yeah, I'd say there's a significant impact.
How can we change this?
There are many thoughts about this already out there (like this great list) but I see no harm in adding to them.
Here are some of my thoughts:
by over 40 women of sexual misconduct spanning decades
Please don't read if you know this may be triggering or unhelpful to you. I am not trying to be gratuitous, I am trying to give an honest account of my experiences as a woman as I don't believe them to be uncommon. I am hopeful that in doing this I can help other women feel that they are less alone in their experience, and maybe give an insight to those who do not live with suffering sexual harassment and abuse on a regular basis.
If you want to skip the incidents and just read about why I never told anyone, and what I think we can do differently - just miss the first section in italics and read ahead. If you are in New Zealand, and you do read this and things come up for you you can call victim support on 0800 842 846.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was nine years old an older boy I had not met before showed me his penis in a spa pool. It was the first time I'd seen a penis that didn't belong to my Dad or my brother. He wanted to see something in return so I showed him my hand which made him angry. I didn't know what to do (there were no adults around at this time) so I showed him my flat nine year old chest which placated him for a while. Then when I refused to cater to his next request (oral sex) he chased me into the house and pinned me down. Then someone (an adult relative) arrived home and he got off me and pretended like nothing had happened.*
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Me around age 10 wearing my Brownie sash.
When I was eleven years old I went to a very small country Primary school. During Summer, we were allowed to have supervised swimming at lunchtimes which was great because it was hot and we were kids. For a period of time, during swimming an older boy would chase and grab me then try to forcefully penetrate me with his fingers under the water. This happened many times and I always fought him because it really hurt me, and I didn't understand why he was doing it. He was much bigger than I was. He would just laugh at me while he did it while I tried not to drown. It was a game to him.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was fourteen years old I started going out with a guy my age. He, and other friends were sleeping over at a party at my house for my fourteenth birthday. We thought we'd try to give sex a go. I didn't really know how it worked, and neither did he. Long story short, we didn't have sex and we broke up shortly thereafter. He told all the boys in my year that I was too tight to have sex with so he dumped me. Unsurprisingly, I was teased about it at school by strangers mercilessly**.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was fifteen years old I was at a party at my boyfriends house. I was extremely intoxicated. He wanted to have sex with me. I told him no - we had had sex before but I was not interested at that time because of my drunken state. I don't even know how many times I said that word. In the end I was so drunk and tired I just lay there and let him do it because it was just easier that way. We never spoke about it and remained friends.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
My award winning team-mates from YES
(I'm not in this photo as I had work that day)
(I'm not in this photo as I had work that day)
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was eighteen years old I went on a couple of dates with a guy I had known some years earlier through High School. We had only ever kissed. One night we were at a party with mutual friends. We were playing drinking games and I became very intoxicated. He took me to a bedroom and locked me in there with him. A friend was concerned so was banging on the door trying to get him to unlock it. I don't remember any of this - she told me the next day when she was checking that I was ok. I can vaguely remember the sex. I remember trying to seem enthusiastic even though I was barely conscious - it was what you were supposed to do, right?
In the morning, I remembered that I had my period. The sex had been had while I had a tampon in and it was very stuck and took some time to dislodge. I never heard from or saw this boy again.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
When I was maybe 24 years old I went to a Halloween party down the road from my house at the home of an acquaintance where I was meeting friends. On arriving to the party someone - I have no idea who because the hallway was as crowded as a moshpit - grabbed me through my dress between the legs and tried to insert their fingers into me. I writhed away from their hold and screamed out exactly what had just happened. No-one in that crowd even asked me if I was ok - they just moved away from me like I was a crazy person.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Last week I was walking home from the dairy with my kids when an older man I know (he is a friendly fixture of the neighbourhood) stopped to say hi and talk to the kids. He gave me a bag of oranges even though I told him please, I don't need any oranges. We have an orange tree. He ignored me. He then tried to kiss me on the mouth and touch me in an inappropriate way. I left as quickly as I could. I felt like I was going to throw up. I have not felt comfortable walking to the dairy since.
Me, the day after the incident above - at Paw Patrol with my family.
These are just a few of the many incidents that I've dealt with over my life. There are many more but I don't think it's necessary or helpful to share all of them for you, reader, to understand my point. Women like me suffer incidents like this far too often.
And I know many women who have suffered far greater that I.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Harvey Weinstein allegations and the #metoo social media campaign have opened up an international dialogue around women's every-day experiences of sexual harassment and assault. Sadly, so far nothing I have read - none of the heartfelt personal statements from any public figures or strangers or friends or family have shocked me. Because, as you may already know, these experiences happen to women everywhere, every day.
The other commonality is that we don't tell anyone. And we carry the shame and guilt of the experience, and of not telling anyone. Discussing why this is, and how we can change things, is what I want to focus on today.
I never told anyone about what happened when I was nine. I think I might have told a therapist in my 20's, and probably some friends when I was older but I definitely never told anyone at the time. I can remember aspects of that day with crystal clarity, because even though I wasn't 100% sure what was happening, I was sure it was meaningful. I felt a mix of feelings - fear of getting in trouble for what had happened and excitement - that an older boy did things that demonstrated that he 'liked' me.
It's the same story with the incident when I was eleven. Even though I felt sick and disgusted and hurt and not an ounce of excitement. And even though I was asked by an adult if I was ok because it was apparent something was going on (supervised swimming) - I still said nothing. The adult who checked on me (the principal of the school) had previously referred to me in passing as 'a flirt'. I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but I didn't think it was good. And I was sure it was linked to attention from boys. So I was sure that if I told him what was actually happening to me I would get into trouble. Because I had somehow initiated things.
It took me until I was in my late 20's to even begin to consider those date rape stories as such. Even though I had said no and even though I was intoxicated and clearly not consenting. Because I felt that probably during sex I would have made some sort of consenting noise in order to speed the process along. Because I didn't want it to be happening, but felt powerless to stop it from happening. I stayed friends with one of the guys until the friendship ran its natural course. I put the incident down to a fumble on both our parts due to lack of knowledge of how sex was supposed to work. I never saw a need to tell anyone and in truth, I still don't feel mad at him. That second guy though - retrospectively - he was a predatory creep and I really should have told someone. But what do you say when this happens?
Teen me, wearing the same brown skirt.
I did tell someone about the incidents with strangers. I told friends, and I think I did tell my Mum about the man who grabbed me on the street. Telling someone about strangers acting dangerous didn't feel so awkward because strangers are the people we are told will do this to us. I didn't tell the police. It never even occurred to me that this was something I should do. Now I'm a parent and reading awful articles about guys trying to (and sometimes succeeding in) grab(bing) kids and young teens, I would call straight away. But I didn't know this then. And at the time, both my Mother and myself had had negative dealings with police. I had been given no reason to trust them to do anything if I did tell them.
I told my Murray about the recent incident immediately. I had already had an uncomfortable dealing with this person and had told Murray I felt unsafe around him. Murray went around and spoke to him that night to try to 'iron things out' and help me feel safer. I really appreciate it, because it was not an easy thing to do (this is a big guy from a different cultural background - he could have easily hit Murray) but I still feel unsafe. He knows where I live and work - how can I feel safe?
So why didn't I feel safe enough to tell anyone about most of these incidents at the time?
Because I thought all of them were somehow my fault.
Many of us 70's and 80's kids learned about the
'facts of life' from this illustrated tome.
It doesn't seem that huge a leap to feel that if someone breached my body it was going to be my fault: 'Don't let.' = my job. So every time a boy touched me inappropriately, I felt I had failed to do my job. And if the adults in my life found out, I would be duly punished.
I don't think this feeling is unusual. Sure, other girls mightn't have had it said in those exact words. But maybe when they were older someone said: 'You're not going out dressed like that are you?' or 'You shouldn't be out so late at night' or 'You shouldn't have got so drunk.' Every single one of these statements puts the ownership of women's safety squarely on their own shoulders.
Every one of those statements implies that it's our fault if someone else breaches our bodies.
That we failed.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
How have these things impacted on my life? Well, they certainly haven't helped with my social anxiety that's for sure. I doubt my own judgment or my ability to accurately assess situations. I have trust issues - generally, with humans. Having been penetrated before I ever knew self love, I have never felt my body was my own to love. I was promiscuous from very young - sex just never felt like much of a big deal because my body never felt like it was my own. I do not feel strong, or capable of being strong. I feel tired and worn down and angry.
And when incidents like the most recent one happen these old feelings become stronger, my anxiety worsens and I develop insomnia. So yeah, I'd say there's a significant impact.
How can we change this?
There are many thoughts about this already out there (like this great list) but I see no harm in adding to them.
Here are some of my thoughts:
- We need to create a safe environment for our children to come to us with their thoughts, fears and mistakes. If we can show them they can tell us anything and we will still love them and take their concerns seriously, they will be more likely to come to us. And if we can start this process when they are young, we have a lot of time to put in the building blocks for when they're older.
- We need to educate our kids about sex, age appropriately, from very young. We have to stop assuming that abuse only happens post-puberty. We need to remember that 90% of victims of childhood sexual abuse know their abuser. We have to arm them with knowledge - about their bodies, their rights and what to do if something goes wrong (there's some good stuff here). We need to make sure they feel safe to tell us what's happening even if their abuser is Uncle Bob.
- We have to stop forcing our children to have physical interactions with family members and friends. I don't care if Aunty Margaret thinks it's just polite. This sends mixed messages regarding consent and unwanted touching. Our children's well-being is far more important than Aunty Margarets traditions or hurt feelings. End of story.
by over 40 women of sexual misconduct spanning decades
- We need to remember that abusers are manipulative and most abusers are known to their victims. If they weren't good at hiding their actions, they would not be able to continue the abuse. Abusers will lie, coerce, bend truths and 'correct' peoples memories to ensure their position is secure. Our abusers are our fathers, our uncles, our sons, our partners, our friends, our family friends, our neighbours, our work colleagues. They will usually seem like 'a bloody good bloke' to most. They will do their utmost to seem like the pillar of morality when it serves them.
Why do we immediately think Bill Cosby
is innocent? Because he was a tv Dad and
because we don't know the women who
have accused him so we don't believe them.
- We have to stop putting the onus on women for sexual harassment, sexual assault and rape. Slut-shaming, and self imposed curfews on women imply that we are in the wrong. It is not wrong to want to go for a walk and enjoy the night sky. It's not wrong to want to feel the wind on your skin. It is not wrong to go on a date with someone then decide you don't want to sleep with them. It is wrong to sexually assault someone. The fault is with the abuser. As a society we need to start recognising this.
- We need to listen with open minds to women's stories. We need society to become a safer place for these stories to be heard. Until it feels safer, why would they tell anyone?
- When we talk about gender we need to stop reinforcing these antiquated fucked up roles that pitch men as this and women as that. This macho rugby, racing and beer bullshit bro-code does no-one any favours***. Even better - stop focusing on gender period - gender is a social construct. We have built our own rape culture. We need to un-build this.
- We can start by doing our best not to objectify women. This is such a built in part of our daily lives that as women many of us have come to crave objectification. We want to be seen as beautiful. We buy the magazines, we buy the lipsticks, we idolise the Beyonce's. We need to stop just referring to our female children as 'pretty' and start throwing some other adjectives in there so that they seek approval for their intelligence, their kindness and their wit rather than their ability to be a good object. We need to focus on all their abilities rather than just those celebrated by society as befitting for women. Because if you think this isn't a thing maybe just have a look at the slogans in kids T shirts in basically any department store. Trust me, girls are groomed from babies to be pretty, passive flowers.
- Likewise, we need to stop treating men and boys as unfeeling observers. We need to give our male children dolls and teach them kindness and empathy and that it's ok to cry. We need to hug and kiss them and respect their feelings. We need to stop telling them to 'man up'.
- We need to educate boys to understand consent. And if we see errant behaviors we need to correct them at the time. Saying 'boys will be boys' is basically just a straight up license for them to continue doing what they like. It's not ok. Do not praise peers for 'scoring' with 'chicks'. We have to stop creating a dynamic where boys and men get kudos for being hypersexual while women are punished for it.
- We need to create some sort of website or PSA about exactly what to do if you have been sexually assaulted. Do you know what to do if this happens to you? I sure as shit still do not. I picture some kind of pyramid of incidents going from catcalling and the like (at the bottom) to rape at the top. Each with a series of things to do when this happens. What do we do? Who do we tell? What precisely will happen if we tell?
- We need clear processes and procedures within our schools and workplaces regarding sexual harassment, discrimination and abuse. And we actually need those processes and procedures communicated to us - maybe even during orientation at a new workplace. Because if we don't know they exist, how can we use them?
The Roast Busters + John Tamihere and Willie Jackson
who shamelessly victim blamed *Amy (a victim of the pair)
on live radio.
- We need to demonstrate that there are consequences for abusers. Recently we've seen massive public abuse cases like Roastbusters where a cop has received the international award of Most Outstanding International Female Investigator even though no prosecution has been laid. These are our public examples of what happens to known rapists in New Zealand - absolutely nothing. What is the deterrent to perpetrators of abuse? Very little.
And for those of us who have made mistakes, we need to rectify these. We need to apologise to those we my have hurt and make amends. We need to stop excusing our behavior and work to do better and we may need to get help and support to facilitate that change. We have all grown up in the 'rape society' I speak about. We have all been conditioned to accept and believe certain things. But we all have the capacity to do better. We can change this culture. We can make the world a safer place for our children than it was for us.
* I realised post-posting that I should point out being left alone was not a common occurrence of my childhood. This was pre celphones - there was a miscommunication and it was expected that my relative would be home - this happened in a small time frame - probably less than half an hour.
** I think it is important to note that this boy, many years later tracked me down via Oldfriends and apologised to me. It sounded likely that he was going through a 12 Step Program and was up to the 'making amends' part. I accepted his apology. I was no longer upset - it had happened a long time before, and I had some understanding of his family situation. His apology was surprising, realising that he had held on to the guilt from his actions that long made me feel sad for him. Even though I didn't need the apology I am grateful to him to this day for realising how this may have impacted on my life.
*** Read previous post re: male suicide rates.
* I realised post-posting that I should point out being left alone was not a common occurrence of my childhood. This was pre celphones - there was a miscommunication and it was expected that my relative would be home - this happened in a small time frame - probably less than half an hour.
** I think it is important to note that this boy, many years later tracked me down via Oldfriends and apologised to me. It sounded likely that he was going through a 12 Step Program and was up to the 'making amends' part. I accepted his apology. I was no longer upset - it had happened a long time before, and I had some understanding of his family situation. His apology was surprising, realising that he had held on to the guilt from his actions that long made me feel sad for him. Even though I didn't need the apology I am grateful to him to this day for realising how this may have impacted on my life.
*** Read previous post re: male suicide rates.
Another bold and moving post Hannah. I am actually shocked by your experiences...and I consider myself quite hard to shock. As a mother I feel ferociously protective of my children, and all children, and I am so angry about what happened to you.
ReplyDeleteYes, the minefield of our everyday life, it's shocking. Brave you spoke up and described incidents so well, unflinchingly, with clarity and some pathos. It's by telling the truth around hurt we can live better, I think.
ReplyDelete