When it comes to things that hurt us
in an abstract sense, we tend to
think of words and actions – lies,
insults, betrayal. But it is silence
that will choke the life out of victims
of sexual violence.
"This is our little secret."
"I’ll kill you if you say anything."
"No one will believe you."
It is easy for perpetrators to
convince young children that they
will get into worse trouble if they
divulge what happened to them.
Quite often, they are not believed –
particularly if the perpetrator is
someone close to the family, such as
a grandparent or uncle. And, as has
long been established, the majority
of victims know the people who hurt
them.
When older victims – teenagers,
adults – speak out, they are often
accused of lying ("He would never do
that!"), "asking for it" ("Why were
you drinking?") or being mistaken
("Are you sure you really said no?
Are you sure you’re not just
regretting it?").
And so, because this is what you see
around you every day, you keep
quiet. You doubt yourself. You think,
it must have been my fault. You try
to swallow your anger and fear and
live your life like you think a normal
person would.
This is devastating and toxic and it
has to stop.
Recently, the Duggars have been in
the news. They’re the
fundamentalist American " Quiverfull"
family who has 19 kids, and it turns
out that when the oldest son, Josh,
was 14, he molested several
underage girls. Including four of his
sisters.
This was in 2002. His parents found
out in the same year; he was
"disciplined ". And yet, according to
Gawker , the Duggar family follows a
"cult-like homeschooling program"
that concentrates on "public image,
and lays heavy blame on the victims
of assault". It includes the question
"What factors in the home
contributed to immodesty and
temptation?"
In other words: keep quiet, or you
will be blamed.
Although usually less explicit, this
kind of attitude is common, and the
victim-blaming questions I noted
above are powerful deterrents
against reporting in the first place.
But even when victims do speak out
and are believed, there is another
factor at play.
A few weeks ago, British pianist
James Rhodes won the right to
publish his memoir, which includes
his account of being raped as a
young boy by a teacher at his
school.
Rhodes’ ex-wife had caught wind of
the memoir and brought an
injunction on behalf of their son. In
a moving article from The
Independent, Rhodes writes of his
experience:
"It was made clear that my past
history of sexual abuse and mental
illness was so abhorrent, shameful
and ‘toxic’ (their word) that it
should never be talked about except
privately with close friends; and
that, as far as the world at large was
concerned, my past should in effect
cease to exist."
It is difficult to imagine how anyone
could be so cruel as to try and force
a survivor by litigation not to speak
of the most harrowing thing they
have ever experienced.
The legal battle had such a
devastating effect on Rhodes that he
became suicidal: "Before all this
started, I was happier than I had
been in years.
I was engaged to the woman of my
dreams, fulfilled in my career and
friendships. I smiled at people on
the Tube, and woke up excited at
life.
By the time of the final court
hearing, I was on anti-schizophrenic
medication, with a shot immune
system and an adrenal system on its
knees."
It is a matter of urgency that we tell
victims and survivors, loudly: "It is
not your fault. You do not have to
be ashamed or afraid." We need to
create an environment for them to
speak up without fear of backlash.
We need to say, "I believe you."
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