Rape and Alcohol

Over the last few weeks, I've been fortunate enough to speak to several fantastic bloggers and journalists, who have been writing about victim blaming and violence. Most of this has been related to a the posters at occupational health (which have now been taken down), though I was asked to comment on a different issue today.

Judge Mowat, who is thankfully retiring, publicly stated that rape convictions will not fall until women stop getting drunk. She effectively told women that if they are drinking, their cases will be dismissed and they might as well not prosecute.This attitude is worrying, coming from anyone. But when it comes from someone as highly regarded, it is dangerous. 

The statement I gave to the journalist is as follows:

"These statements, by a respected and trusted figure, are extremely worrying. Rape is the result of the perpetrators actions, and it is these that need to be examined, not the victim's. The archaic attitudes and stereotypes, combined with the taboo of sexual violence, mean that many women feel unable to seek the justice that they deserve or the support that they need. Rape happens to women of all ages, from all backgrounds, of all appearances and in all communities, and outdated, blinkered views of an 'acceptable victim'  need to be challenged."

There's far more that I could have said "officially", but people better qualified than me had already covered these issues, including Rape Crisis England and Wales, and Oxford Sexual Abuse and Rape Crisis Centre. 

Yet again, it shows how desperately we need to open a dialogue on the concept of consent. If respected judges and juries are telling women that women are at fault if they are so drunk they can't remember, and talk of whether they consented or not, it really brings into question their own knowledge of the law. After all, the perpetrator must reasonably believe that the woman had consented, and if the woman cannot remember because she had been so inebriated (which was claimed by Judge Mowat), then she evidently lacked capacity to consent.

Comments on the Mail Online's article include such gems as:

"Being so drunk you can't remember names makes you vulnerable, that's not blaming it's stating a fact", "Blame the ladette culture"

"Obviously people who are out drinking are easy targets"

"Women have to learn their limits"

"You wouldn't leave your front door open when you go on holiday"

"Women should fight like fury if they ever find themselves in such a situation"

"It wasn't your fault - well, it is if you get too drunk!"

"Men will learn not to rape when we all get into paradise."

But what do you expect from the average Daily Mail reader, eh?

Thing is, these comments show several of the key problems with the general public's perception of rape. Time and time again, people were writing about being out, being alone and vulnerable... but only one third of reported cases involve alcohol, not the vast majority as seems to be implied. And most callers to rape crisis helplines knew their attacker. That's not to negate the impact on those who are raped by strangers, but statistically speaking, the image put forward by these readers is the tiny minority.

As for fighting like fury and talking about injury and DNA samples as evidence, it again shows a lack of understanding. It is not as simple as fighting. There is fight or flight, but there is a third reflex as well - freeze. Both times that I was raped, I became incredibly still and passive. Maybe it was self-preservation, trying to stop any further physical harm, but it certainly didn't mean I consented in any way.

If women were to be responsible for reducing the risk to themselves and do this effectively, the actual list of advice would be rather different. It would include such gems as don't date, don't marry, don't make any friends (particularly male ones). Don't smile at anyone, don't leave your house, and live as a hermit in complete isolation.

Basically, it's completely and utterly impossible to protect oneself from rape, because it is the perpetrator's decision and fault. The victim cannot be expected to change her actions, her clothing or anything else, especially when that doesn't actually have any correlation to the incident (but even if it did...!)

People have preconceived ideas as to what a rape victim is. They don't see the reality of the situation, to the extent that I received a good and proper trolling on Twitter a few weeks ago, where I was told that no-one would ever want to rape a "land-whale" like me. Yet again, rape is reduced to a sexual act, rather than one of control and power.

What seems to be positive is that the dialogue is starting. Even publications like the Daily Mail, which have a historically poor reputation with regards to women's rights issues, are reporting positively about victim-blaming. Maybe the readers are still reluctant, but change takes time.

If you are interested in reading the Daily Mail article, it can be found here.

Posters and Tweets

The last week has been an eye opener for me, and reminded me of the kindness, resilience and passion of the women out there, regardless of whether I know them or not.

Due to a series of strange migraines which leave me unable to move or speak (they present themselves a bit like strokes), I've been off work for two weeks. And, somehow, my consent forms and other details went missing from occupational health, prompting my boss to suggest I deliver them by hand.

So, last Friday, I did exactly that. I printed and completed another consent form, phoned the occupational health people to warn them that I was coming, and hopped in my car. I was a little hesitant and determined to put on the "calm, put together" facade, because they obviously know about my past and I didn't want them to decide I was hysterical and incapable of working. Not that it was likely, but I do tend to over-think these things, and I had poor experiences with people wielding power (whose preconceived ideas about sexual assault caused big problems) last year.

I arrived at the building and rang the doorbell. The lady I spoke to on the phone asked me to come in and take a seat, as the nurse wanted to speak to me personally. Personally? I was a little concerned about this, but sat anyway.

That's when I saw it. After all, it could hardly be missed. On a blue board about alcohol abuse, where most posters were white and featuring individual drinks, there was a "featured" one in the centre. This most prominent poster was black, showing a woman and stated, "1 in 3 reported rapes happens when the victim has been drinking. Know Your Limits."

I felt sick. After all the campaigning, after everything that is being done, council-run centres are still displaying posters like this. Not that they should be anywhere, but the EVB Campaign was founded here in Nottinghamshire and that, somehow, made it worse. Then, of course, there was the fact that an establishment like this, that would be judging me, had these archaic views. I might as well pack my bags...

I surreptitiously took a photo, and managed to sit down just before the nurse came to collect me and talk me through the process. It left me with more answers than questions (seeing as everyone seems to be contradicting each other), but my mind was elsewhere. That poster.

A few hours later, I tweeted the photo. In the days since, it has been retweeted 53 times, and @manderlay1940's retweet with additional comment was tweeted 74 times. And various other modifications have also done the rounds.

I was taken aback by the interest shown. I knew the poster was awful, but I had initially thought that I was being oversensitive. I never thought that so many people would be outraged. A lovely lady on Twitter asked to phone and interview me for her blog, and she has recently told me that a petition to get these posters removed has begun.

I found out today that this petition has over 5000 signatures, that the NUS has also waded in and commented on it and The Drum is also running an article. Part of it seems a little crazy, that this little "Yuck, look what I saw!" has taken off.

But then I'm really, really glad.

You see, even now, I don't have the courage to do anything myself. I'm happy to speak in public about violence against women and girls (like at Nine Worlds), I'm happy to teach about gender equality or sexual violence or even do very personal performances about it (like at the Silence the Violence event in Nottingham). But for me to ask them to remove this poster, that was making it too personal. That felt like I was trying to remove something that was uncomfortable for me, for my own personal gain rather than for the greater good, and I was scared of the impact that could have on my career. After all, occupational health hold my life in their hands right now.

This isn't about just my feelings, though. And it doesn't matter how old this poster is (apparently, it was released in 2006). By displaying that poster, which is endorsed by both the Home Office and the NHS, it effectively tells you that those organisations will look at your culpability first, as the victim, and also that the organisation displaying it will do the same. These are organisations in positions of power and trust, ones that are supposed to be supporting people.

If, on a pre-employment form, you declare that you have suffered anxiety attacks, flashbacks, depression or any other lasting effects of assault, the chances are you will be called in for an interview. Imagine sitting in that waiting room, as a woman who has experienced rape, and seeing that this establishment thinks it's your fault. Imagine what that does, on top of the nerves and worry that you already have.

So I'm glad that other women have taken this cause and run with it. I'm glad that so many people are outraged, because it shows how our outlook as a society is beginning to change, how people are willing to act for change and how we can stand in solidarity to support each other and say, "no, this isn't just you feeling this way." 

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I had been brave enough to do it myself. To step up and say, "this isn't right, we need to change it". But then, I know that the reassurance and support, and the knowledge that I'm not alone in this, is what I needed this time. That was my discovery to make.

For those wondering, I have been told that the county council received complaints, and that the poster has been removed. I will be checking this when I go in for my next appointment in a few weeks.

Ohio: The Importance of Choice

If you want to read Neil Lyndon's article, please consider using this link. It uses a service that stops the Telegraph from profiting from disgusting journalism such as this.

It has been announced in the past few days that Ohio has tabled a bill regarding abortion and men's rights in agreeing to termination. It is a horrific piece of legislation that would be a worrying step backwards in human rights if passed.

But whilst the bill itself is shocking, just as appalling is the reaction of male journalists and campaigners who seem to have missed the point entirely.

I pride myself on being inclusive in feminism, in wanting to involve people of all ages, backgrounds and genders in our fight for equality. I am far from a separatist, despite what my history might lead people to think. I believe feminism can be women-centred and women-led without being women-only. And I truly believe that female equality benefits men long-term too.

However, when I read articles such as that by Neil Lyndon in the Telegraph, I am suddenly led to feel a great surge of empathy for my separatist sisters.

First, let's talk about pregnancy. There's the obvious, terrifying realisation that you're going to be a parent. Even if you really want it and you're excited, there's still fear and trepidation. Yes, that's something that men feel too, I will allow that. But do they put on enormous amounts of weight, some of which they might never shift? Sounds fine, but what about when society -yes, YOUR patriarchal, misogynistic crap - insists that we stay perfect, beautiful, skinny and flawless forever? 

And how about our whole relationship with the world changing? I wish that was an exaggeration. I went down to the hotel bar to see a friend and ended up choking back the vomit. "What IS that stuff you're drinking?" It was just red wine, but a pregnant woman's sense of smell changes so drastically that it alters her perception. Shopping at the supermarket became the strangest experience, smells I'd never noticed before suddenly becoming overwhelming. I was more sensitive to sound, to taste. I had extraordinary cravings taking over my body. Quite simply, my body was not my own.

And then, at the end of nine months of intermittent sickness, pain and aches, sleepless nights (because you just can't sleep comfortably), weight gain, swollen ankles and other parts, comes the grand finale - forcing a fully grown baby out of a hole so small that its skull bones have to overlap to get through. And whilst much safer today than it once was, childbirth is still risky. In fact, there were a staggering 343,000 deaths during childbirth in 2008.

Have you got the picture yet? Pregnancy... Childbirth... it's scary stuff.

And whilst men may be expected to contribute to prospective offspring, and may still feel the same levels of fear and trepidation about parental commitments or the well-being of their partners, they don't have to go through the physical changes, the hormones or face a potentially life-threatening situation at the end of it. It isn't your body to control. As I said before, it was barely my own!

 “Since fathers will have legal responsibilities for child support, they should have rights regarding the birth or destruction of the foetus."

There is so much wrong with this quote from Lyndon's article. If there is a child resulting from the pregnancy AND they are required to contribute financially, then perhaps it can be discussed further. At that point. But with regard to the pregnancy and birth, that affects the mother and decisions should be her domain.

So women, according to Lyndon's piece, would have to provide a list of possible fathers. There would be paternity tests so that the individual could give "permission" for a termination. Seriously? There's a one night stand and no interest in children, but she needs to ask for permission to get rid of an unwanted foetus that could risk HER LIFE, physical and emotional well-being and did I mention HER LIFE?!

"If the father cannot be identified, the woman would not be allowed to terminate her pregnancy."

Because, obviously, a woman cannot make autonomous decisions. If the father is so elusive that he cannot be identified, how does he have any rights at all in these circumstances?

"Where the woman says that the pregnancy is the result of rape, she would have to provide a police report as evidence before she could have the abortion."

So, let me get this straight. A woman has been sexually assaulted, had all of her rights stripped away from her in the worst possible way. She's, quite possibly, struggling to admit what happened to herself, let alone anyone else. She's just found out that not only was her body treated as a plaything by someone else on that night, but her body has just been taken over by a parasite for the next nine months (ok, eight, once she finds out) and her body's still not her own. I keep coming back to this, but the issue of propriety is actually quite significant when all ownership has been stripped away.

She's gone through all of this, and now you're not going to let her have an abortion unless she provides a police report? So she's got to report and relive that whole experience, and that's if the police decide to take it seriously in the first place. A law like this is only going to encourage police forces to dismiss rape cases on the grounds that she's "just trying to get an abortion". Why make a difficult situation harder?

I look back on my experience in Germany and wonder where I would have been. I was laughed at by the police, because I was an English girl. I've been laughed at by others because I'm ugly and should be grateful for the attention. I'm not alone; there are thousands of women experiencing the same victim shaming that I went through, and refusal to acknowledge the trauma.

Reporting to the police, just like abortion, needs to be a choice. Choice is everything in cases of violence, and all those choices need to be independent and exclusive.

" Is it in the interests of taxpayers that 150,000+ abortions should be performed every year? Is it in the interests of the wider society that those lives - more or less equal to the annual figure for net migration in the UK - should be stilled?"

These were the final questions asked in the article. The short answer is that yes, these abortions are definitely in the interest of the taxpayer. The longer answer is that we often is the surgical cost of termination without considering the wider implications.

Imagine a woman who has been forced into having her child. Think of the counselling and therapy costs that she would undoubtedly need at some point. Think of the economic cost due to someone potentially unable to work as effectively due to the emotional or physical repercussions. If you want to look at cold, hard facts, then an abortion costs around £400 as opposed to upwards of £700 for childbirth (and that's without all the scans and all the rest of it). Then there's the cost of education, healthcare and everything else. If you want cold, hard "interests of taxpayers", then that woman's doing you a hell of a favour.

In reality, nothing is ever so black and white. Every woman's story is different and the reasons for abortion are also varied. To reduce women to the cost of their healthcare, abortion or birth, or to reduce children to the cost of their education is over-simplification at best, but rather callous and insulting.

Women deserve a choice over something that will permanently change their lives. There is no shame in involving the father in the decision process, but there is also no obligation. If men are so concerned with how they are being treated in these cases, then perhaps it's time to take a look at the bigger picture and the way our patriarchal society is treating women as a whole. Perhaps then, they may start to understand.

Support vs Pressure

Last year, I met a woman who was completely aghast at my openness. She asked me how I would feel if my headteacher knew about my past, about the fact I'd been raped, about my pregnancies and miscarriages. She obviously thought that I'd be terrified by the idea of anyone knowing, especially my headteacher. I wasn't, particularly. Though I wouldn't have gone out of my way to share this blog or my experience, I wasn't ashamed of it, much to this woman's surprise.

You see, this woman thought that being raped is something I should hide. She told me that by speaking openly about it, I'm bringing the organisations I work with into disrepute, that I was unfit to be working with young people. She told me that groups didn't need the stigma of people like me, that sort of woman, like it was my fault, like I had attracted trouble and I should feel guilty.

I don't blame this woman for her views, any more than I blame the organisation that she represents. She is, unfortunately, a victim herself - a victim of societal misconceptions about gender inequality and abuse. She has spent so long believing myths of culpability that violence has become something that her truth has become warped. Views like this need to be challenged, and I still feel a sense of disgust that it has taken me so long to address it, but they also need to be tackled in a way that is respectful of the framework and experiences that have shaped the viewpoint in the first place. We are trying to change minds, not destroy people.

But this post isn't about that incident or that woman, not directly. It's to do with what she said.

As I've said in a previous post, I'm lucky enough to be working in a school that I love, and I've been there since January. This half term, my induction reports from my first two terms finally arrived from my previous authority, and I was asked into the headteacher's office.

"But these are not at all reflective of what we've seen here," she commented on the reports, quoting choice sections that made me cringe. "What's changed? Why did you struggle so much?"

I don't quite know what made me be so honest, but I was. I sat there and told her that I should never have trained when I did, that I was fighting back against what happened to me, that I've had counselling since and started building up that relationship with myself again.

She asked questions - lots of questions - and I answered every one of them, fully and honestly. By the end of the meeting, I was broken and shaking, but she knew the whole situation. She thanked me for sharing and told me that it really helped her - it meant that she understood and she had enough context that she could support me and fight my corner if it was needed.

When I was interviewed for a proper contract (rather than the supply I'm currently doing), I was also open about what I do, that I blog about gender inequality, violence against women, that I have run workshops on the subject, that I write articles, go on marches and other bits. I never for a moment thought that I would be judged.

I have been discussing what we can do to support those who have experienced VAWG, both staff members and children. My experience, my past, it's all valued rather than dismissed or swept under the carpet. It's not something that comes up every day or something that is at the forefront, but it is acknowledged when appropriate. I'm free to be myself and not just a sanitised facade that threatens to crack over time.

If we accept the experiences of others and support them, we can lift them up and help them reach their full potential. By forcing them to hide their true selves or aspects of that, we are putting pressure on them and forcing them down until they break. 

Sadly, I know that I am in the minority, being in an environment that does support and embrace me for who I am. But we need to take this model and encourage it. Not so that every woman has to share their experience, but so no woman has to live in fear of it "coming out".

Encounter

"Hello," the man greeted, as I trotted down the corridor. "Is there a big event on this weekend?"

I turned to face him and felt it. "It" was a strange combination of emotion and physical reaction that caught me completely off-guard; the stomach lurch, the sudden urge to vomit as my gag reflex kicked in, dizziness and itchy feet. I don't know if you've ever had real itchy feet (not just the metaphorical "it's time for a holiday" type) - the urge to run for the hills that is so overwhelming that you can't physically stand still...

It wasn't the first time I had seen him over the weekend. When I arrived last Friday night, he was on his way out of the gym. But it had been nice and easy that time - I kept my head down and scurried on by as he left. This was a little different.

Who was he? He was the man who raped me last year. I knew there was a chance that he would be around. Though it was a hotel, he was a gym member and it did make sense that he'd be around at some point. But I had rationalised that the probability of encountering him was low; I would have to be passing that same part of the corridor at the same moment. Unless I decided to chill out in the gym, it was highly unlikely. I didn't think I'd see him multiple times.

Part of me wanted to run as fast as I could. Perhaps I would have done, but I was wearing my crew badge on my lanyard, and I knew I was representing the company. So I forced myself to stop, take a breath and smiled back at him.

I'm kinda good at that now, the composing myself to look like I'm comfortable. Between meetings with male colleagues, kids' dads and other things, I'm fairly used to being alone with men (though still dislike it), and have developed a series of barriers that allow me to fake it - big smile, straight back, confident, professional attitude and an awareness of my potential escape route. And breathing. Breathing's quite important, as is holding my hands in front of me so no-one can see them shake. It's become so automatic, that I barely have to think about it on a day to day basis.

But I did last Saturday...

"Yes," I told him, my hands gripped tightly together. I told him the name of the company and explained, "It's a signing event."

He nodded. "I've heard of that one before. Are you staff or just here for fun?"

I explained that I was crew and answered his questions patiently and politely, whilst silently praying for him to leave me the hell alone.

Afterwards, it took me a while to verbalise what upset me about the encounter. "Of course you were upset - he raped you" doesn't actually cover the whole reaction and range of feelings. It was more than that. It was more than fear of him, or sorrow at what I went through, or anger at what he did or a sense of isolation....

It was absolute rage and indignation. Because not only did he turn my world upside down last summer, just when I thought I was finding my feet, but he had the gall to talk to me like I was just another person.  And that's when I realised that - to him - I was just another person.

He changed my life, had a great impact on it. But I had no impact on his. I was nothing more than a body to him and I never would be. He didn't feel any remorse or guilt or anything, because he couldn't remember me or my face, even though he spent all that time hurting me in the most vile, intimate and personal manner. He will never remember my face, but I will never forget his.

I am NOT a statistic

91% of rapes are committed by people known to the victim.

'Only' 9% of rapes are committed by strangers.

One of the weirdest concepts for me is that I am on both sides of this statistic that Nottingham Rape Crisis Centre tweets quite frequently. And, possibly odder than that, both make me bristle equally.

91%? Are we not outraged by this figure, that so many men in our lives are taking advantage and abusing us in the most horrific way imaginable? 91%, so my case is nothing unusual, nothing special, I'm just another woman, another number, another nameless, faceless victim?

I hate that 91% statistic, because it trivialises what I've experienced, what hundreds and thousands of women have experienced, and it reduces us all to a "one size fits all". Organisations like NRCC spend so much time and money trying to educate people that we are all different, that our reactions and stories are unique, that this universal statement feels like it's undermining that.

On the other hand is the 9% comment. Because it's aiming to dispel the myths that all rapes are committed by strangers, aiming to reassure those women who think "I must be over-reacting; it's just rough sex", but it does far more than that. It takes an already isolating situation, where a woman can feel like no-one could possibly understand, and reinforces that. Been raped by a stranger? Then you're a freak, you're alone.

There's also the "97% of callers to our helpline knew their attacker" tweet, which is even more uncomfortable than the previous one. I think I was so distressed that I laughed and jeered, "Well, aren't I ******* special, then?!" at my computer screen.

And despite this, I applaud NRCC's work to raise awareness of the truth behind rape. I love that they're breaking taboos, talking about difficult subjects and getting discussions going. I just wish there was a way to do it that didn't dehumanise the brave and passionate women that they work with.

Occasionally, I get a little embarrassed that these tweets elicit such an emotional reaction. After all, I'm quite capable of switching off, removing myself from attachment from the statistics, of working alongside people on difficult topics and advocating. 

Then I remember that my emotions are what make me human. Yes, they're all over the place, unpredictable and sometimes a little disproportional, but they're mine. MINE.

And where does that leave me? Because now I feel a little guilty about my feelings, and unable to raise the questions or challenge the wording, but then I'm pleased that I reacted because it's a reminder that I'm human (and proves that these tweets actually have an impact!) and still indignant that people are being swept under the carpet.

Actually, it leaves me silent. I've been watching this for several months now, not quite sure how to phrase my discomfort, until I saw a brave woman stand up and challenge today. And I'm grateful for it. Incredibly so.

I think what I'm trying to say is that rape makes me angry. It makes me absolutely furious. I don't care whether it's a stranger, husband, friend, someone I met in the pub... because it is a man who has committed a completely unforgivable act of sexual and psychological violence. 

Yes, we need to know the statistics and strong, emotional reactions to them mean that they are taking effect, but for every statistic, can we look at the human impact? For every number, can we have a reminder that every single woman is unique, important and loved? And can we please, please get rid of "only" and language that reduces us to some sort of caged animal, a curiosity in the corner?

Back To Nine

I still remember my first visit to Nottingham Women's Centre. I was surprised by how bright, warm and friendly the welcome area was, and how everyone else seemed...normal.

I sat down nervously on one of the sofas, not quite sure if I was supposed to make my own way up to the Rape Crisis Centre, or if someone would come down to fetch me. Or if people would make assumptions if I asked the way. I wasn't quite ready to acknowledge that out loud.

There was a blonde woman in the kitchen area, who looked up and asked if I needed help. Without any sort of judgement, she asked if I was going up to NRCC and told me to follow her. As we walked, she explained how she had been for counselling there, how it does get better, that life becomes bearable and how that place gets under your skin... you don't just walk away from the women's centre.

I didn't believe her back then. I couldn't see a way that I could live without the hurt, or that other things could be at the centre of my life out of choice and happiness rather than forcing them into the spotlight in order to hide from the horrors I was avoiding. I couldn't quite grasp how I could move on without forgetting, deal with what I remembered, be happy...

And if I didn't believe her then, I believed her even less as counselling continued. As we explored feelings and delved into the problems that I faced, everything seemed more hopeless than ever. How was I supposed to heal from something that was ripped open every time we spoke?

I began to go camping again, do the things that I loved. It gave me confidence that other things could take priority in my life, and that I was still the girl that I was before all this, even though I had changed a bit. I took opportunities and did things that pushed me, such as Roverway in Finland and the Stop The Violence seminar in Belgium. I began to learn that I had a voice. Not just any voice, but a powerful, authentic voice.

Progress isn't measured in perfection, but in the little victories. Camping in the wilderness of Evo, speaking at a feminist event, going back to the scene of the violence. It's measured in the nights without nightmares, going out without panicking, working every day with children the same age as my daughter would have been. Progress is a journey.

I was first raped on 26th February 2005. Every year, I avoid the world in any way possible on that date. Whether it is pretending to be ill or booking a day off work, I barely ever leave the house, choosing instead to curl up in a nest of cuddly toys and watch a film. The only real exception was in 2011, when I was forced to attend a first aid training day and did so whilst suffering panic attacks and flashbacks the whole time.

Last year, I was very aware of the date. I didn't work, but also never panicked or cried. I said at counselling that night that it felt like any other day. I'm not sure it did, to be honest. Not looking back on that now.

This Wednesday was the 26th February. I got up, headed to work, ate my porridge and did my preparations. I taught my first couple of sessions, got my morning hugs from the usual suspects in year three, made a few lewd jokes with my boss. I went for a meeting in his office - just me and him - to discuss a couple of issues, then headed back. And I wrote the date on the board...

"Oh..." I stopped and clutched my head, just for a second. I'd seen it and felt dizzy. Just for a second, because it had caught me completely unaware. The 26th February really was just like any other day, and all of a sudden it caught up with me; how I was stood in that place, teaching, meeting with male colleagues, acting like anyone else.

I suddenly realised exactly what that woman had meant. I hadn't forgotten what happened to me, I hadn't forgotten what day it happened on or anything else, but somehow it was manageable. Somehow, I was able to get up, go to work and just do my normal thing.

After that brief moment, I continued for the rest of the day. And when I got home, remembering the date, I put all my cuddly toys on my bed, and did my annual tradition of nesting with a Disney film. Not because I needed it, not because I was hiding, but because it's part of me - I love my Disney and I deserve it after a tough day.

My past is always going to be a part of me. In some ways, because of the writing that I do and the campaigns I'm involved in, it will be quite an integral part of me and something that I'm not necessarily willing to cast aside. But it's something that I work with, giving myself time to heal, grieve, celebrate and love, as I need it.

These days, I find that I'm the woman talking of experience and how we can heal. I'm the woman that praises the women's centre and NRCC and the amazing work they do with women of all backgrounds. I'm the one that's never really left, still doing things and feeling like the women at the centre are extended family. And I find myself thanking those women from that very first visit for welcoming into their community.

In This Place

In this place,
I feel the ghosts of my past
flickering in and out of existence.
I feel what was and what could have been
drowning out the present, colliding.

In this place,
I can  see my journey around me;
the panic ridden start and the call to action.
I see the women whose lives I touched
and the ones I never will.

In this place,
the emotions clamour to be heard;
wanting acknowledgement
and yet now - just as months ago -
I feel myself holding back the tide.

In this place,
I witness the growth;
the blossoming of awareness and my relationship with myself.
I witness the areas of need
and hold myself accountable to self-care.

In this place,
I promise myself truth -
just as I did back then.
I promise myself love and patience,
to allow myself to grieve.

This was written as part of Nottingham Women's Centre's "Writing For Healing" session, which I stumbled upon. It will be performed at their Silence The Violence event later in March.

News Headlines

This article was written as part of the Special Contributions Team for the EVB Campaign. For more information, please visit their website.

Every day, we are faced with a myriad of victim-blaming stories. A brief visit to three of the major news outlets uncovered no fewer than twelve inappropriate headlines or by-lines. From placing emphasis on a victim’s alcohol consumption to casting their abuse into doubt through misplaced quotation marks, each tells a stark tale of the media’s attitude towards those experiencing violence.

“Ethopian teenager who says she was raped by seven men…”

“155% rise in children groomed by sex gangs.”

“A beautician was left scarred for life after a fellow clubber glassed her when she refused to dance with him, it is claimed…”

“The woman was attacked while drunk…”

“Left demands answers from senior Labour trio over links to child sex group”

“Drama teacher charged with having sex with schoolboy she met while directing production of hit musical”

Though the last refers to the female abuse of a male, it is still an important example of how sub-editors choose to represent the sexual assault and violence towards children, young people and minors who are legally unable to consent to sexual activity.

In fact, victim blaming happens so often in today’s media that many people are increasingly immune to it. In creating a hierarchy of “worst examples”, are the ones at the top of the list those that shock, or the ones so subtle that they infiltrate the public consciousness at an unnoticed level? In fact, is it healthy to create a hierarchy at all, or should we challenge each and every instance?

Every single article, headline or comment that involves victim blaming is important. Each and every instance damages confidence in society, encourages self-doubt and self-blame. Each case reinforces society’s belief that male perpetrators and their reputations should be protected. There is a tendency to assume “innocent until proven guilty” which neglects to respect the needs of the victim.

In a society where over 90% of sexual assaults are thought to go unreported, it is imperative that women are believed and treated with the dignity that they deserve, so that they feel valued as members of the community and so that they have the confidence to work with authorities in the knowledge that they will be supported if or when they feel that they want to take further action.

Why does so much victim blaming exist in the media, particularly with regard to sexual assault and court cases? It is largely, as we know, both a symptom and cause of the gender inequality that exists, and created by the personal contexts of the journalists and editors. But more than that, the culture of legal action in which we live, where the press is held accountable for every comment and by-line printed about public figures, it is understandable that they would be wary about false accusations and anything that could cost the company. Unfortunately – and wrongly, of course – many editors find it far easier to side with the well-known personality, than to go with an anonymous member of the public who has little method of recourse.

However, there are ways to avoid litigation without blaming the victims of abuse and without holding them accountable for their own experience. There is language that can be used to report cries and allegations that allow women to retain confidence in the system.

Many instances of victim-blaming in recent headlines have been linked to three areas. But it is essential that sub-editors and journalists are not just challenged, but offered alternatives.

Firstly, all reports concerning children and minors who have been victims need to be referred to as instances of rape or sexual abuse. It is not sex, they are not having relationships with their abusers. If a young person is under the age of consent, then they cannot consent. Lack of consent is called rape.

If a person is in a position of responsibility, they are the ones who should ensure that any infatuation, signs of sexualised behaviour towards them (which can in itself be a warning sign of other abuse) or other unusual activity is referred up the chain, to the designated child protection officer. All persons working with young people receive extensive safeguarding training, from those involved in youth organisations such as Girlguiding or The Scout Association, to those working in schools. People in positions of care must not be mitigated by apparent flirtation – they are the abusers when acting in these cases, not the young person.

In cases purporting to allegations of sexual assault, it is imperative that the language used validates the information given by the victim whilst maintaining the legal boundaries. For example, terms such as ‘claims’, in addition to quantifiers such as ‘apparent’ and various quotation marks that lay doubt on the case should be replaced by neutral terms such as reports, allegations and – most preferably in a legal situation – charges. It is too easy for a journalist’s need for synonyms to open up connotations about the plausibility of the case.

Thirdly, a better understanding of this country’s legal system needs to be conveyed in writing. Not guilty does not mean innocent. A perpetrator can only be convicted if the crime can be proven beyond reasonable doubt which, in cases where the crimes may have been twenty or thirty years in the past, can be extremely difficult. Even more so when the people to be convinced are a jury made up of those exposed to victim-blaming on a daily basis.

Inconclusive evidence does not make someone innocent, and it certainly doesn’t make their allegations a “flight of fancy”, as they have been referred to in some parts of the media. Not guilty simply means that the jury wasn’t absolutely, 100% certain of the crime.

Subeditors need to be cautious when using the word innocent, or commenting on the victims in these cases of male violence against women. They must be accurate – speak of guilty or not guilty, or even not proven, but the word innocent is not an alternative for this, nor is the assumption that the victims in these cases have been “inventing” the trauma that they have experienced.

Headlines and by-lines needn’t be less “sensational”. They needn’t abandon the principles of snappy sound-bites and high sales. They needn’t be wordier nor must they risk legal action for reporting unsubstantiated or unproven claims. But editors, sub-editors and journalists must respect the basic human rights and dignity of victims and adopt a stance of neutrality that ensures those experiencing abuse feel supported rather than distrusted.

[This piece was written prior to the media reports about a 14yo child charged with rape of his mother and so the associated headlines are not included in this analysis.]

The Right Victim

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” I told my counsellor last summer. “It was his; he was the one who did it… At least it was only me he got.”

This was my reaction to being raped a second time. At least it was only me.

I couldn’t quite understand why she was so upset by this, not at the time. After all, surely it was better that I was the victim than someone else? I was already damaged goods, I’d already been through it once before, and I was getting the right support so didn’t have to experience the ordeal of finding it again. If he was going to attack someone – and statistics would imply that it was premeditated to some degree – then I was grateful it was me and not another woman.

I thought that I was being rational and mature about a terrible situation, that my presence that evening had somehow saved this nameless, faceless victim. To some extent, a lot of women do this, try to put a positive spin on it. I know I’m not alone, and protective strategies such as this have their place. We need ways to carry on.

But as time went on, I started to realise something awful. Because by assuming that responsibility, or accepting myself as the “right person”, I was becoming complicit in the victim-blaming culture that had developed around me.

No, I wasn’t suggesting it was my fault because I had been alone in the sauna, or that I had made myself vulnerable in the clothing that I had worn. However, by adopting a position as the “best” target, I had created a hierarchy of merit.

No-one deserves to be raped. No-one is asking for it or putting themselves in the wrong position or to blame in any way. It is only ever the perpetrator’s fault. End of.

A single woman shouldn’t feel “grateful for the attention”, nor should anyone feel that it’s “harmless fun”, and someone who has been there before shouldn’t feel any less important or any more deserving because of their past.

The End Victim Blaming Campaign asks us to think about our own frame of reference, how we respond to stories and why we respond in that way. Sometimes it’s also useful to think about how we would respond if it was another person reacting that way too, allowing us some perspective and a chance to review without feeling that the self-care is self-ish.

I know that if a friend or colleague told me that they were relieved it was them, that they didn’t matter and they weren’t important because they were damaged, I would be appalled. Because we all matter; we are all worthy of love, care and respect.

As a teacher, I’ve worked alongside children who have been victims and witnesses of male violence against women and children. It never fails to shock me how many so-called professionals will say, “At least it’s only ----‘s family, it’s not like they had much promise anyway.” No. Just no.

You see, there are even further reaching implications than hierarchies compounding victim-blaming. The idea that some people are more deserving of assault than others is in direct opposition to equality. If we believe in equal rights for any group, we need to believe in equality for all. How can I support feminism and the idea that all humans are equal if I don’t consider that child to be just as deserving of safety and love as every other child in my school? How can I support equal rights for all people if I won’t even afford myself the same dignity as I afford others?

Challenging others starts with challenging ourselves. How do we respond to others and how do we respond to our own situations? Do we allow ourselves healing time? Do we allow ourselves to care? Because believing in our own rights and equality, believing in our own right to safety and compassion, is an important step in challenging the hierarchy and victim-blaming culture.

There is no “right victim”, not even me.

The Right Victim was written as a submission for EVB Campaign's website, which they are posting on 20th February 2014.

Stay Safe

I was quite happily drunk texting my boss and browsing Facebook, when I stumbled upon one of those posts that made me simultaneously rub my hands in glee and groan internally.

The post was a link to the Nottinghamshire Police website, about three women who had been "assaulted". My contact had written underneath it, "stay safe". A chance to open a dialogue on language, victim-blaming, responsibility and so much more... fantastic! Another article telling us women to behave nicely and be good little girls...? Not so much.

So we started talking. Talking about why it's important to remember that the male perpetrators of violence are at fault, why women shouldn't be told to stay sober, stay in herds, stay properly dressed... Talking about how society has conditioned us into these subconscious implications that women are to blame for the violence against them.

Then I read the article.

Instantly, I was horrified. Actually, I think I've been trained to be horrified by anything written by Nottinghamshire Police - they don't have the best record with male violence towards women (Christmas campaign, anyone?). And after yesterday's ridiculous Question Time with George Galloway (who seems oblivious to the technicalities of the legal system), I was already on high alert.

Walk in well-lit areas. Keep handbags buckled. Walk with other people. The article barely stopped short of warning against short skirts and red wine.

It was pointed out to me that all the advice offered was gender-neutral, important safety advice for all people. Yet it was handbags prioritised, not rucksacks. And when was the last time that men were advised not to walk alone? I don't accept this idea that it was aimed at everyone - far more likely that we've been conditioned to roll over. But that could be the drink talking.

Yes, there is some advice that is basic crime prevention - keep valuables out of sight and be aware of your surroundings. But we do need to consider the message being spread, particularly when the police are asking for women to share the message to "stay safe".

What are your views on safety messages?

Add Your Voice

Today feels like a sort of birthday for me. The international day for the elimination of violence against women. It featured quite heavily in my life in 2012.

A year ago, I attended the WAGGGS Europe Stop The Violence seminar. At the time, I was doing it because I wanted to learn how to facilitate learning in my unit roles, and because the girls themselves had asked me to take part. I never for a moment thought that we'd be challenged to speak out and take real, practical action, and couldn't imagine a situation where I'd feel comfortable being part of a movement acting for change.

One of the things that I've realised over the past year is that I'm not alone in that feeling. The situation for women worldwide is so horrific, so incredibly dire and overwhelming, that it feels like we're tiny drops in an ocean. How can one woman make any impact? But we can. We must.

Not everyone has to try and infiltrate News International (a la Yas Necarti) or lead a campaign. But every one of us has skills and talents that we can share and use to support our sisters, both locally and around the world.

Do what you know: You could retweet articles or statistics from the many inspiring women on Twitter, reply to them, engage in conversation and add your voice. You could do a sponsored event to raise money for a local (or international) women's charity. Attend women's groups, get involved in the community and meet others. I was going to say "start small", but it's not small - it's amazing.

Advocating for women's rights doesn't mean being on an international stage, necessarily, but being able to take action. Local campaigns often have a bigger "real-world" impact than some of the national ones that get lost. How about poster campaigns in schools or in the workplace, a flash-mob or getting a load of colleagues to volunteer at your local women's centre for a day or two?

Getting the media involved doesn't have to be scary either. Run an event and send them the details. Local press love to hear about local people. And with so many different forms of media these days, including the power of social media, getting word out there is easier than ever.

Every action has an impact. Every action reaches and touches someone else. Every action is important and worthwhile.

A year on, and I'm more determined than ever to fight. Speaking out against violence is tough, it's not easy to do and even less easy for people to hear. I've learnt that some will turn away or try to silence you, but I've learnt that it's worth it.

I've heard from other women who have been raped, who have been so grateful that they are not alone. I've heard from women who have self-harmed, who feel like there is sisterhood out there. I've heard from women who didn't know the reality facing their peers, and from women who felt like they've lost everything. Each and every one of these women has reminded me why I do this, even when it's difficult and even when it feels I'm having to make sacrifices.

Sometimes it feels like I'm just one voice, one silly little girl with a blog and a Twitter account. But then I remember that you're reading this blog and that people have read my Twitter feed. And suddenly, that's another silly little girl with a blog and a Twitter account. And we're not so silly anymore. Or so little. 

I said at the start of this blog post that it felt like a sort of birthday. Admittedly, the seminar didn't start until 29th November, but there seems to be something quite special about celebrating the first anniversary of my empowerment today. Because this is where it all began, and where everything in that seminar tied back to, and this is what gave me my initial confidence and inspiration to speak out.

So in the tradition of birthdays, I think there should be gift giving. And possibly cake, but definitely gift giving. And the gift I want you to give is your voice. Find a tweet about violence against women and girls, or an article, or even make a promise, and spread the word.

Anti-Rape Wear

I woke up this morning and checked my Twitter feed (which makes me seem very sad, but I was actually searching for details on the DW 50th anniversary screening... Not helping my case), when I saw a very heated debate being fought by feminist Roweena Russell and the EVB Campaign.

Under normal circumstances, I don't read many posts and links of that nature in Twitter. There's only so much of society's victim-blaming attitude that I can take, and you get to a point where if you read everything that crops up, you're going to lose the will to live.

But something about this caught my eye.

"Anti-rape clothing".

Sure, the suggestion of rape prevention as a female responsibility is misogynistic and dangerously avoiding the real issue of male perpetrators in control. But I was sure the situation couldn't be as bad as EVB were making out. Surely all those outraged feminists were over-reacting, at least a little bit. I was also mildly curious. How could a pair of shorts actually prevent rape? What was so special?

So I went to have a look.

The first thing that struck me was that the product seriously misunderstood the reality of rape. It was designed to protect people from assault on the street, for a start. It is estimated that most women who have experienced rape have been assaulted by men that they knew. Quite often, it is within a relationship, perhaps in bed at night, not when you'd necessarily be wearing shorts or trousers.

How would anti-rape trousers protect a woman who woke up to find her partner inside her,  are we suggesting that to protect themselves, women must wear such clothing every minute of the day that they are not willing to have sex? Would this become permissible evidence in court? And if they are raped at night, as suggested, did they consent by not wearing their preventative clothing?

Of course, it is ridiculous that a pair of shorts or trousers can prevent a woman's rape. You would need an immovable, tear-resistant gag to cover the mouth too, you see. Because the legal definition of rape also includes penetration of the mouth. So now, to ensure that women are protected, we must remember that their mouths are also fully covered at all times too!

The second thing that struck me was that all the images of women, all the prototypes, the whole campaign was geared towards young, slim, beautiful women. Some might say that this is a side effect of the fashion industry, but anyone who genuinely cares about and advocates on VAWG issues will know and understand that rape and related sexual assault happens to women of all ages, of all sizes, of all appearances and from all backgrounds. Genuinely caring and ethical companies would reflect that in their campaign, to lessen the isolation and counteract the myths surrounding society's perceived victim profiles.

Oh, the myths. It was bad enough when they talked about protecting oneself when on a run, when on a first date and so on, but then they spoke of "risky situations", they used accusatory language about "even if she's had too much to drink", as if alcohol intake is a reason for rape. It really isn't. Every single part of the video and the campaign put the responsibility on the woman for the hypothetical attack, and it also put the responsibility on her for prevention. It proliferated myths and stereotypes that research has proven to be simply untrue.

This product, and the way it is being marketed, is dangerous and damaging to women everywhere and could seriously impair and hinder the emotional well being and recovery of those who have suffered serious trauma.

And if only they were my sole concerns.

What is to stop an attacker coercing the woman into giving him the release code for the clothing? What if she has, in fear, forgotten it? The company claims research disproves an increase in violence, but what research is this?

The first time I was raped, my attacker tried to strangle me. He repeatedly smashed my head against the concrete. I don't remember him leaving, but do remembering opening my eyes and him not being there, so presumably he had left me for dead. He said he would kill me. If I had been "protected" by this clothing, would he have just killed me anyway? Would the enhanced rage and frustration given him the power to actually do it, rather than just render me unconscious?

You see, rape itself is rarely an act of passion, connected with sexual attraction or a spur of the moment, lack of control type of event. Usually, it is premeditated in some way, and it is always about control. Yes, by wearing supposed anti-rape clothing, you are removing some of that control from the perpetrator, but aren't you also opening these women up to even more danger when he loses control in that moment of anger?

I don't know the answer.

Another concern that struck me is practical and medical. This clothing is designed to be resistant to tearing cutting and all sorts of other destructive methods. Just suppose a woman is involved in an accident and needs to be rushed to hospital. There, the doctors find that they are unable to remove the clothing. What happens then? Yes, significant portions of the clothing are normal fabric, but that doesn't get rid of the leg bands, waist bands or the gusset. And in the event that there is a safety code to unlock the garments in these circumstances, what prevents potential rapists from obtaining that same code?

There are many other problems with the situation, such as the financial implications and the fact that anti-rape wear is going to heighten the unfounded stereotype that sexual assault doesn't happen in "nice" communities.

Perhaps the company genuinely thought they were doing a good thing. Yes, if women feel confident and empowered in this clothing and want that choice, it is no bad thing, but to campaign using stereotypes, victim-blaming and create a product that potentially puts women in a more dangerous position, that is not. The company has shown that, fundamentally, they don't understand what rape is, who it happens to, why it happens, where it happens or what the real implications of such violent crime are. Let's help educate.

Edit: I have been informed on Twitter that hospital scissors can cut through tough materials, such as biker gear. However, I think clarification from the company would still be a good idea on this matter!

Girls In Action: Discussing VAWG Issues With Young People

This posts answers questions I was asked today. It does discuss violence, personal experience (though not in detail) and other things. I try to be professional and sensitive throughout!

I'm not going to go through the whole process of facilitating a workshop for young people here. Most people reading this will be friends who already have access to brilliant resources and proper training teams. Those who want to know the WAGGGS guidelines or want to ask questions are free to do so and I'll try and help if I can!

So instead, I wanted to share some of the questions that I've been asked today by friends, parents and people at the women's centre about what I do and how I approach it. I must note that most of these questions deal with the rape and sexual violence aspect, and that is because of the people who have asked me, and the nature of the questions and activities.

Because of the nature of our volunteer day, our "action" for Girls In Action was finding out about services available, particularly Nottingham Rape Crisis Centre and Women's Aid Integrated Services which are based in the women's centre. This meant that we did look in detail at sexual assault and domestic violence, but many of our activities involved more positive aspects, thinking about healthy relationships and ideal partners!

Q: How do you prepare for a volunteer day / VAWG project?

A: After the girls suggest the project (it is always their decision, not me who initiates), I discuss with parents what I intend to do. They get a copy of the syllabus (if we are working towards a badge) and full details of any other work that we're doing. I welcome discussion from the parents about anything that they are unsure of or concerned about. So far, I've not had any concerns come back and parents have even suggested that I go into more detail rather than less!

Once I've discussed things with parents, I start chatting in more detail to the members who are participating. What do they want to learn? What sort of activities do they like? I show them the pack and they can select. Is there anything missing that they want to do?

At this point, I go back to the parents and show them the final draft of activities, as well as give them access to support networks / helplines they might want available for themselves or their daughters, and show them discussion notes so that they are prepared for any questions that the girls might ask them following the sessions. Girls In Action is a great project to do, as most of this information is included either in the members' resource pack, or the guidance notes.

In terms of preparing myself, I try and connect with my own support networks in advance. One of these is the Nottingham Rape Crisis Centre and I just give the helpline a ring to chat about what I'm doing, concerns I have and my feelings about it. It's not that I'm out of control or panicking, it's just a useful way of me to get aware of my own comfort levels.

Q: Are your girls aware of your personal experience?

A: Not that I'm aware. I won't say a definitive "no" because this blog is obviously public. However, if they are aware, they haven't said anything. I think the more important question is whether I have chosen to discuss this directly with the girls or not, and the answer is absolutely not. 

I am in no way ashamed of what happened to me. I'm not proud of it, and I'm very upset and sorry that it did happen, but it is not something that I feel that I should keep hidden or guilty about. 

Having said that, there is a difference between my professional and personal life. In a professional context, and I do consider Guiding to be a professional role, there are many things that I don't discuss or don't feel are appropriate to that arena. I don't discuss my love life with pupils, Guides (or Rangers!) or even with colleagues, for the most part. When my ex-girlfriend came to camp with us last year, she was just a Leader from Leeds, and that is all that was discussed. Likewise, I don't discuss my rape(s) with the girls or pupils, because that is not something they need to know about me, and I don't think it benefits them or affects the relationship I have with them to know that.

If they found out, however, I would not be unduly worried. I see it, in many ways, like them seeing me with a girlfriend in town. It is not information I would volunteer, but if it did end up in the public arena, I would discuss with my commissioners (or senior management in a school), as well as with parents about how best to tackle the situation. It may be decided that we ignore it, or decided that we open a discussion about it, with neutral support / mediators. 

I don't know how I would respond to a girl who asked me directly. I hate avoiding questions, but am aware that these discussions need to be conducted in safe space with full parental knowledge and consent. My gut professional reaction tells me to challenge the question gently, with one in return; turn it back on the girl. So, instead of answering the question, ask if that would affect how they saw a leader? Does that matter? Why do they want to know? Is it better to wait for information to be volunteered or should we ask for disclosure? How do we respond around survivors? Choose a question (not bombard) and try to open a general and non-specific discussion. 

Q: If discussing VAWG issues affects you emotionally, why do you do it?

I think most people are affected by these discussions on some level. Most of the time, I just feel tired and drained once the adrenaline of the day wears off, and I just need to curl up with a cup of tea. I know I'm not alone - the other leader who joined me in July also felt drained afterwards, so we debriefed with a good cocktail!

The real difference is how we acknowledge that and handle self-care following the event. Many will just say that they are tired / exhausted, but my work with D has shown me that my exhaustion stems from emotions that I need to identify and process. This may be the case for a lot of people. My acknowledgement of this fact is not a weakness, but actually a sign of a strong relationship with myself and awareness of my emotional needs. 

Why do I tackle VAWG issues despite my personal connection? Well, at first, it was because my members were so passionate about it. My role as a Leader is to facilitate the experiences that they want and have chosen, and to do it in a responsible way that cares for their well-being. In tackling sensitive issues, I have ensured that I seek support and the help I need to work safely and effectively with my members, and continue to do so now.

I did say "at first", though. I never thought I would be strong enough to do this work and did explore and consider outside providers to work with the girls. I also didn't think that I would ever be passionate about the topic, because it was too close to home. But the fact that it is close to home fuels me. When I think of the statistics (one in four women experiences rape or attempted rape), and I see that 1/4 of the young women I work with will be forced to endure what I have, I realise that I will do anything in my power to change this future, and anything I can to make sure they are equipped to support and speak out for themselves and for others.

Q: But if it's affecting you, shouldn't someone else deliver?

A: As I said, I have considered outside providers, but I am fully capable of delivering these sessions and have attended appropriate trainings. As mentioned, I make sure that I am fully prepared and that I explore my own feelings, but when I talk about being affected, I'm not necessarily talking about an extreme negative impact, rather an emotional response that can be processed.

When initially discussing the project with the girls, I do speak of peer educators and other options. Realistically, I need to ensure that the best facilitator for my members is the one delivering, and I know that I am not the only one suitably trained to facilitate this. According to NSPCC research by Christine Barter, young people much prefer peers to adults. However, my members have so far opted to work with me, on the grounds that they "know and trust" me.

Q: Have the girls ever seen you affected by activities?

A: Other than a long sigh at the end of a day, no. During the day, I tend to be running on adrenaline and don't have the time to be overly affected. But thorough preparation means that I'm better able to work with these issues and activities and facilitate their exploration. Actually, if anything, I've been questioned about why I seem so "unemotional" about the subject matter!

Since engaging with the counselling process, I've found that working with my emotions has been far easier, and they don't tend to "burst out" at inappropriate moments as they used to do. Occasionally, when attending Guides straight after a session, I have done washing up or paperwork to remove myself from the girls "in case", but I'm very aware of my limits.

Q: How do you ensure you can deliver safely?

A: As mentioned above, I make sure that I prepare fully, both in terms of activities and by looking after my emotional needs. Adults need the same safe space provision as young people; we need the chance to leave a room if the session becomes too intense, we need listeners for support, and we need to reflect and emotionally evaluate the activities. Having more than one adult present is essential for this; it allows you to take five minutes, have a tea break, just have a breather. When planning, it's also vital you have plenty of short breaks and time to just chat and escape that mindset for a little time. It's much healthier to take five minutes and do some washing up elsewhere than it is to let emotions fester and potentially let the girls see discomfort.

With the volunteer days, the painting itself is a great space. It gives our young people chance to process what they've been talking about, or to escape it for a bit. By breaking up the day around the painting, it makes sure they have time to do something else and offers plenty of space for them to go and do other jobs "alone" if they need space.

Q: You give the girls the opportunity to ask questions of a survivor of sexual assault. Why is this done through writing rather than face to face?

A: It is mainly to alleviate any discomfort and embarrassment for either party. The girls are able to ask questions, knowing that they don't have to say the words out loud, and they don't have to share the questions with other girls if they don't want to. In some cases, faced with a survivor of rape, they may become uncomfortable about how they are supposed to act or what they are supposed to say.

Similarly, for the survivor, a written question means that the response can be measured, thought through for whether it is age-appropriate for the members, and it gives chance to process any emotions that arise without an audience.

Because I have experienced sexual assault, I tend to write these answers myself, and it's useful to keep the anonymity. As  the questions are for personal experience / opinion, it's something I can do, but I try to ensure another adult reads them for content to check they are appropriate. In some cases, I will get another survivor I know, or a counsellor to answer the questions, as they are better equipped to do so. But in all cases, it is made completely clear that the answer is personal experience and opinion, and try to ensure there is a positive challenge or discussion point for the girls.

Parents are, like with everything else, made aware of this activity, and many parents have chosen to discuss potential questions with their daughters in advance. Usually, my members choose to take their responses home with them, so that they can keep and discuss them later. Both parents and girls have said this is a valuable part of the day, as it is a true, personal interaction rather than secondary source learning.

----------------------------

I hope that this gives a little insight into how I prepare for these sorts of projects, and how vital self-care and parental contact are in the process. I know some people may find areas of this confusing or worrying, particularly the conversation with the survivor of sexual assault, but given the age range of The Senior Section and the supportive environment in which it is conducted, it is an incredibly positive experience for our members.

My main wish, though, is that it will inspire people out there to consider VAWG projects. It may be discussing gender roles and stereotypes with younger girls (you don't need to discuss rape and domestic violence!), or it may have made you consider using peer educators or providers like Rape Crisis to help you in delivery.