Terminology

I love words. I have a two volume dictionary in my living room, along with various key texts of linguistic pedantry. But, I don't love all words. Some words I positively despise: fresh, portion, and prepare all make my skin crawl, for no obvious reason. Perhaps it goes back to a particularly stern home economics teacher...

Of course there are other words that I dislike, and for rather more valid reasons. Unfortunately, in beginning this blog, I have run smack into terminology that I usually avoid using. In a conversation about sexual violence, I am able to skate (wafflingly) around these words, or say them with "air quotes" and eye-rolling, to distance myself from them. Not so online.

So, I want to discuss some of the terminology I'm using (and not using) in this blog. I'll alphabetise the list, and add to it when more come to mind.

Child abuse: This term is appropriate when talking, in general terms, about maltreatment of children. It is inappropriate when it is used as a euphemism for the rape of a child. In the words of Christopher Hitchens, "'Child abuse' is really a silly and pathetic euphemism for what has been going on: we are talking about the systematic rape and torture of children" (God is Not Great, 2007).

Date rape: To me, this term trivialises an act of violence. Rape is rape. An estimated 90% of rapes and sexual assaults are committed by a perpetrator known to the victim. So, it could be said that most rape is "date rape". I could write an entire post on this, and I fully intend to! I'll put a link to it here, as soon as there is one... Edit: Tada! Here it is!

"My" rapist/abuser/etc: I personally prefer not to talk about the people who committed crimes against me in a way that implies relationship. I would not refer to "my burglar", and so I talk about "the woman who abused me", not "my abuser". Clunky, yes. But it feels better to me.

Survivor: When used by individuals who have experienced sexual violence, I completely respect their right to describe themselves in this way. However, to me it seems glib when used by others as a blanket term. For the decade after I was raped, survival was a pretty precarious business. Telling, for instance, an individual suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, "You are a survivor! You have survived!" strikes me as rather missing the point.

Victim: I hate using this word; I have enormous issues with it. The mindset of "victimhood" has been written about by many people, with the emphasis on ceasing to see oneself as a victim, and reclaiming control over one's life. The reality of crimes of sexual violence, however, is that the perpetrator took control. While it is important to feel in control of life, day to day, I think that recognising that temporary, non-consensual loss of control is an important part of coming to terms with one's experience of sexual violence. So, I would not say, "I am a victim of sexual violence" but, when talking about the crimes that were committed against me, I might say, "I was a victim of sexual violence". 

However, far more important than the words we use when talking about sexual violence is whether we talk about it at all. Because talking about sexual violence, and drowning out the silence, is of vital importance. Because these are not our secrets.

And! A word on gender.

I am a cis woman. I absolutely understand that crimes of sexual violence are committed against people of all genders. According to current statistics, rape is predominantly a crime committed by men, against women: a 2012 datasheet from the USA's Center for Disease Control estimates that 18.3% of women and 1.4% men have experienced rape. This is not to say that all men are rapists, or that all rapists are men. I was sexually abused by a woman, sexually assaulted by a man, and raped by a teenage boy. 

If I talk about sexual violence in a way that seems exclusionary, please forgive me. My perspective comes from my experiences, but I am very open to discussion on the topic.

What do you think of these words? Are there words that you avoid when talking about sexual violence? Please comment below (anonymously, if you'd like) - I'd love to know.

Shame, Blame, and Silence

Sexual violence has been in the news in the UK a lot this week. As distressing as it can be to hear about such awful crimes, I am always glad when society is forced to examine the attitudes and practices that maintain the unhealthy status quo. Ignoring sexual violence does not make it go away. I hope that, as we are challenged to confront the reality of sexual violence, those who are keeping secrets of crimes committed against them will be better able to break their silence.

Tuesday saw the release of the independent report into child sexual abuse in Rotherham, and the council's failure to protect the estimated 1400 children exploited over a 16 year period.

The majority of the perpetrators in the Rotherham case were men of Pakistani heritage, and the majority of the victims were white British girls. These facts have led some (particularly in the right wing press) to query whether fear of being seen as racist was what prevented action being taken against the perpetrators of these crimes. I think this type of accusation is an oversimplification, which ignores how complicated attitudes are toward sexual violence.

On Radio Four's PM programme this week, an anonymous educational engagement officer from Sheffield shared his experience of working with looked after children, with the brief of improving their school attendance. This man's frustration was clear; his work to get the best outcomes for these vulnerable children has been repeatedly blocked, by management with skewed priorities.

(This is the link to the programme: listen from about 33:30. It will only be online until Wednesday 3rd September. I may attempt to transcribe it...)

I would recommend listening to it if you can, but here are two horrifying points made:

"The majority of girls that I was dealing with were known to be sexually exploited, and one or two trafficked - openly." The majority.

"It was accepted as normal behaviour for a girl in looked after local authority care to be vulnerable to and involved in sexual exploitation." Normal. 

Yesterday, the Guardian website published the story of Ruzwana Bashir, a British-Pakistani woman from Skipton, who was abused by a neighbour from the age of ten. Having left for university at 18, it took Bashir ten years before she felt able to return to Skipton, and tell the truth about what happened. It was then that she met a further challenge: the shame and blame.

"When I first told my mother about the abuse I’d suffered, she was absolutely devastated. The root of her anger was clear: I was heaping unbound shame on to my family by trying to bring the perpetrator to justice... She begged me not to go to the police station. "

I find real inspiration in Bashir's story. She refused to bow to the shame, blame, and silence which would otherwise have kept her from seeking justice. Because of this, the perpetrator was imprisoned for eight years, and two other victims have broken their silence.

With support, we can all break the silence. These are not our secrets.

About

Why is this blog called "These Are Not My Secrets"?

 
I was a victim of sexual violence. At the time, I told almost no one. The shame and confusion I felt meant that I kept the secret for years. It affected my mental health, my physical health, and my ability to form positive relationships. It is only very recently that I realised: I did nothing wrong. These Are Not My Secrets.

The culture of silence around sexual violence prevents victims from seeking help, and allows perpetrators to commit more of these crimes. I believe that talking openly about sexual violence would be beneficial, both to victims themselves, and to society as a whole.

The full story of my experiences of sexual violence is long, circuitous, and will – eventually – be posted on this blog. Everything I've posted so far is on the My Story page, here. Today, I am happier and more functional than I have ever been, but I am still keenly aware of the impact that sexual violence, and the associated shame and guilt, has had on my health and wellbeing.
 

What is sexual violence?

 
This definition is from the website of UK charity Rape Crisis:

“Sexual violence is any unwanted sexual act or activity. There are many different kinds of sexual violence, including but not restricted to: rape, sexual assault, child sexual abuse, sexual harassment, rape within marriage/relationships, forced marriage, so-called honour-based violence, female genital mutilation, trafficking, sexual exploitation, and ritual abuse. Sexual violence can be perpetrated by a complete stranger, or by someone known and even trusted, such as a friend, colleague, family member, partner or ex-partner. Sexual violence can happen to anyone. No-one ever deserves or asks for it to happen.”
 
The Rape Crisis website is full of valuable information, statistics, and advice.

Don't people talk about sexual violence enough already?

 
Sadly, crimes of sexual violence are committed all over the world, every day. A tiny proportion of these crimes are reported in the news – those deemed particularly newsworthy, perhaps because the victim died, or the perpetrator is a “celebrity”. In our own lives, though, the topic of sexual violence is taboo.

But this stuff is private!

 
I can understand feeling that way. It took ten years for me to tell my mother I was raped. I felt so ashamed; it felt more important than anything to keep it a secret. But why? It was Not My Secret: I did nothing wrong. A crime was committed against me. If your house had been burgled, or you were knocked off your bike by a careless driver, would you feel ashamed? Would you keep that a secret? No. Why should victims of sexual violence keep the secrets of those who commit these crimes?

Why should people talk about sexual violence more?

 
When I was raped, shortly before my 12th birthday, I had no idea what had just happened. Nobody had ever told me what rape was. (I barely knew what sex was!) Had I known, I would have told my parents. My parents would have phoned the police, and the rapist might have been convicted. I would have received the appropriate care for the trauma I had experienced, and maybe I would not be looking back on 18 years of mental and physical health repercussions. I truly doubt that my story is unique, and I believe that if sexual violence were discussed openly, perpetrators would be less able to commit these crimes, and victims would be better able to recover from them.

Additionally, there seems to be enormous confusion in the public consciousness around these topics. Richard Dawkins recently described "stranger rape" as worse than "date rape". I believe this comment comes from a basic misunderstanding of the experience of a victim of sexual violence, and I intend to blog on this very soon. Edit: "Date Rape" - a Working Title available here!

Victim blaming is also prevalent. An old NHS/Home Office poster, which recently came to light, suggested to women that they should "know their limits" and not get drunk, because that might lead to being raped. Putting the onus for preventing rape onto the victims themselves is tantamount to saying "You were raped? That's your own fault." Sexual violence is never the fault of the victim.

What can I do?

 
Stop keeping these secrets! If you have experienced sexual violence, talk about it. Maybe start with a close friend, or call Rape Crisis or The Samaritans (more potentially useful organisations listed here). 

Please "like" the blog's Facebook page, here, and follow the blog on Twitter, here, to get updates of new posts. Shares and retweets also mean the These Are Not My Secrets message gets spread to your friends and followers - I hope you agree that would be a good thing! 

If you would like to share your story anonymously on this blog, email me: thesearenotmysecrets@gmail.com - I'd really appreciate it if you could include your age, gender, and nationality. I'm 30, female, and from the UK. 

And I really appreciate comments. It's lovely to know people are reading, and you can comment completely anonymously.
 

Remember: you did nothing wrong, so you should not feel any guilt or shame.

These are not your secrets.