Victim Blaming

I should never have to write a post about victim blaming.  Our society should support victims, should listen to them, and should help them.  Instead, our society says "it's your fault for getting raped.  You should have known better.  You shouldn't have put yourself in the sort of situation that leads to rape."

Our society never blames the rapist.  In fact, our society sympathises with rapists.  You only need to look at the reactions to the Steubenville rape case recently.  The public supported the rapists - after all, they're just young boys that don't know the difference between right and wrong.  How could they possibly know that repeatedly having sex with an unconscious girl was rape?  How could they possibly know that urinating on said girl was abusive?  How could they possibly know that laughing about raping her and filming themselves raping her was wrong?

There was a huge public outcry.  Not, I might add, to demand justice, but to demand leniency for the rapists.  Those poor boys have had their lives destroyed.  Those poor boys are now in jail.  Those poor boys.

What about the poor girl?  She was raped.  Those 'poor boys' forced themselves on her.  They took advantage of her.  Their lives were destroyed?  What about hers?  She has to live with the knowledge that her peers are calling her a slut and wishing that she would die.  People took to twitter to wish her dead.  People said that the boys had learnt their lessons and it wasn't worth ruining their lives over.  Even celebrities backed the rapists, by claiming it was the girl's fault for drinking too much.

That's right, of course!  By having a few drinks you're telling everyone around you that you want to have sex, that you want people to have sex with you while you're unconscious, that you want to be urinated on and that you want to be filmed being abused.  Silly me, how could I forget? 

After all, you have to be so careful nowadays.  Don't wear revealing clothes - but don't look like a prude either.  Don't sleep around - but sleep with enough people so you're not a 'tease'.  Don't walk home alone, don't walk home with acquaintances - in fact, don't walk home at all.  But don't take a taxi either - because the taxi driver might not be able to resist you.  Don't make yourself 'too attractive' so you won't attract the wrong kind of attention.  But don't look ugly either - because if you don't fit society's idea of attractiveness, then you're lucky to get raped in the first place.  After all, only attractive people get raped.

I know, how about instead of having all of these do's and don'ts for potential victims, we have only one rule for potential rapists?  DON'T RAPE.  There, simple.

I'm sick and tired of hearing people blame the victims.  WE ARE NOT AT FAULT.

And it's exactly this attitude - this victim blaming - that stops rape victims from coming forward.  It's why I waited 5 years after the abuse ended to finally tell the truth.  It's why I never said anything while it was happening.  Because I knew that I would be blamed.  I was 12 when it started, but I knew that it was my fault.  Because, after all, only 'sluts' (I hate that word) get raped.  Only bad girls are abused.

I waited for years because I was afraid that no one would believe me.  As it turns out, it was right that I waited.  It took those 5 years to build up my strength and courage.  As a young victim, I would not have been able to handle the backlash that was sent my way.  Close friends asking me 'why I didn't just put a stop to it'.  A friend's boyfriend asking me 'who would want to rape you?'.  Someone even told me that they think most rape charges are false and that the guys (ie RAPISTS) are hard done by.  Being told that the rape charges were being dropped as it was a case of 'he said she said'.  The child abuse chargers were accepted, and we went to trial.  At trial it felt like I was raped all over again.  My life was scrutinised.  I was accused of being a liar, told that I was making things up; that it was a fantasy in my head.

(Please not - I am SO glad to have finally told people.  Because most people stood by me - my family, my friends that mattered, and the police.  I was believed.  I was able to finally start healing.  I stood up to him.  I took my power, my life, back.)

Every day, survivors are having to stand up and fight to be heard, to put the blame where it really lies - on the rapist.  We are having to explain what it means to be raped.  We have to explain, over and over and over again, why it is NOT OUR FAULT.  We are having to shout I DID NOT WANT TO BE RAPED.  And time and time again we are ignored.  Time and time again people stand by the rapist.  

There is so much evidence out there that clearly show that as a society, we criminalise a rape victim and support the rapist.  You only need to look at that time a judge stated in court that it wasn't a real rape, but just a technical rape.  Or read the statistics that explain why cops don't believe rape victims.  Or read this beautifully written blog entry written by a rape survivor, explaining how she was raped.  Or read this disgusting article blaming Nigella Lawson for being the apparent victim of domestic violence. Or type in Google 'rape victim blamed' or 'rape victim shaming'.  The results should disgust you.

I just do not understand why, in this day and age, we are still victim blaming.  We are enlightened in so many ways, and yet we are still failing so miserably.  We are putting the blame on the victim, instead of on the person that committed the crime.  In what kind of world does that make any sort of sense?

Facing him

I did it.  I faced the monster from my nightmares.  And I realised that he is nothing but a cowardly little weasel.

I hardly slept at all the night before.  I couldn't eat anything in the morning.  I kept thinking "in a few hours I will come face to face with the man that ruined my childhood".  I was terrified.

My Mum and I arrived at the courthouse at about 9.30am.  My Aunt arrived soon afterwards.  The sentencing ended up being at about 10.30am.  Walking in to the courtroom was slightly terrifying - his family and friends were already seated on the left side, and all of them glared at us.  It was slightly intimidating.  However - I had my wonderful Police Liaison Officer with me, a detective and security.  I was safe.

He entered.  The judge entered.  The barristers did their thing.  The whole thing took about an hour and a half.

I needed to build up my courage to look at him, but once I had built that courage up, I spent almost the entire time staring at him.  Throughout the 90 minutes, he looked my way only three times.  The first two times lasted for about a second - he could not actually bring himself to look directly at me.  In fact, he was determined to look anywhere but at me.

It wasn't until that moment - when he looked at me and then quickly looked away - that I realised something.  I realised that I am strong.  I realised that he is weak (my actual thoughts were "you pathetic, weasel-y little bitch").  People have been telling me this for a long time, that I am strong.  But I didn't feel strong myself, I didn't feel brave or courageous.  Until I realised that he couldn't bring himself to look at me.

What a pathetic, horrible little man.

And then when the judge started giving the sentences... oh how my heart soared!  She read through each charge, giving the sentencing for each one.  I was desperately trying to work out in my head what they all added up to.  I thought I must have made some sort of mistake... but then she said "that gives you a total of 13 years and two months".

13 years and two months!!!!!!!!

I wanted to scream, to jump up and down, to throw my hands up in the air.  But we had all been warned to keep our facial expressions blank, in case his family saw that as a reason to start a fight.

He obviously couldn't believe it either.  He was near tears.  Then he composed himself.  Then he was furious.   Then he looked at me.  I was looking at him.  He quickly looked away.

The judge then asked him to sit down, as she had something she wanted to say.  She then spoke to me.  What she said was lovely, I was almost in tears.  She said that she knows nothing will ever make up for what was done to me, that I have suffered a lot throughout the years, but that she hopes that now I can start to live my life and find peace and happiness.  It was beautiful.  And I love the fact that she made him listen to it.

He was then led away by security, shouting "I will prove my innocence" before the doors closed on him.

Whatever.

The remaining security then formed a barrier around us, so that his family could not get to us (I later found out that certain members of his family were looking at me in a very threatening way throughout the entire sentencing - I hadn't realised, as I was so focused on him).  We quickly left through the same entrance we came in (not the main entrance to the courtroom).

As soon as we were out of that room we burst in to smiles and were hugging each other.  What an amazing result!  I honestly wasn't expecting it.  I thought that the best we could hope for was 5 years, but that he would most likely only get 2.  So for him to get 13 years and 2 months... it's just brilliant.  It's the perfect number - he started abusing me when I was 12, which is 13 years ago.  For 13 years I have lived in fear - now it's his turn.

We left the courthouse about an hour later.  We had to leave through a different entrance, as his family were standing guard at the main entrance.  It would appear that they were waiting for me.  Luckily the police stayed with me, and we were walked to our cars.

It's over.  It's really and truly over.  I feel like I finally have closure.

I know that I still have a long way to go - I still have depression, PTSD and insomnia.  But... my abuser and rapist is behind bars.  He was too afraid to look at me.  And by God, does that feel good!

13 years and two months!!

Short entry

Tomorrow is the sentencing.  Tomorrow I will see him.  And he will see me.

The Probation Service have given their recommendation for his sentencing, and tomorrow we will find out what it is.  The sentencing is at 10am.  I'll be meeting my Police Liaison Officer beforehand.  She's said there might be one or two police officers around with us.  Just in case.

I will admit it - I'm nervous.  Very nervous.  Slightly scared and intimidated.  But I'm also determined.  And strong.  I am going to walk in there tomorrow with my head held high.  I am a survivor.  He did not destroy me.  I am going to face up to my nightmare.  I am not scared of him.  I will face him.  I will look him right in the eye and show him that I am not afraid.

More waiting

We drove down South on the 3rd, it was a 7 hour drive.  We stayed over at my Grandparents' house, and on the 4th we drove to the courthouse.  It was weird being back in the witness area.  The last time I was there, I was full of uncertainty and just praying and hoping that the jury would find him guilty.

This time around, I was getting myself ready for finally facing him, for looking him in the eye and showing him that he did not break me, that I am strong, that I have the rest of my life to live.

But as it turned out, that didn't happen.  He was meant to have been interviewed by the probation service in December, to see what - if any - type of threat he is.  The probation service didn't interview him.  Which meant the sentencing could not be done.  Which meant that we had come all this way for nothing.

It wasn't the police's fault, and it wasn't the judicial system.  It appears to just be one of those things, a mis-communication.  However, that doesn't make it any less frustrating.

I had geared myself up for seeing him.  I had hardly slept the previous night.  I was anxious, yet determined.  I was ready to face him.  And then I was told that that wasn't going to happen.  I was about ready to burst in to tears of frustration.

So we drove back up North.  Exhausted.

The new sentencing date is on the 16th of this month.

Sentencing Tomorrow

Just a quick entry today, will talk about the holidays at a later point.

I'm going back to the courthouse tomorrow for his sentencing.  My Impact Statement will be read out, the lawyers will do their thing, and the judge will decide how long he should go to jail for.  I will be sitting in the courtroom, in the gallery, with my Mum & my Aunt.

I don't want to do this, but I need to do this.  I need to see him, to put the image that I have of him as a monster, to rest.  He is just a man - a weak, pathetic man.  And I need to see that to move on.

The last time I saw him was when he raped me.  Tomorrow I will see him sentenced to jail.

I'm nervous and anxious.  I don't want to see him, but I need to.

Guilty!

13:00 - The jury is currently out debating the verdict.  I’m terrified.  Absolutely terrified.

14:00 – Still no news.  It’s taking a long time.  Surely that can only be a bad thing?

15:00 – No news.  Jury is still out deciding.  It’s taking them hours – they went out at just before 11am.  It can only be bad news.  Oh God.

16:30 – GUILTY!!!  He has been found guilty!!  On all 40+ charges!!  This is amazing!!  I can’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling.  It’s amazing.  Overwhelmed.  Elated.  Relieved.  In shock.  It’s just amazing!!

I was standing outside having a cigarette when I got a text from the awesome detective, that just read; ‘guilty!!!!  On all charges!!!’  I screamed.  I actually screamed.  Then I heard my Mum screaming and shouting my name – my aunt had called her and let her know.  I ran inside and we were both screaming and hugging and crying and jumping about.  Dad came to see what was happening and all three of us were hugging.

It’s amazing.  Absolutely amazing.  Justice has prevailed.

I had convinced myself that he would be found innocent.  But justice has prevailed!  GUILTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

18:00 - I've just been on the phone with the lead detective on my case (the kick-ass one).  She talked me through some of the things, let me ask her questions etc.  I can now talk about it, I can talk about everything and I can know what went on in the courtroom.

Apparently the very first day (when I spent the entire day in the witness lounge, but was never called in to testify) there were a lot of legal arguments about a certain piece of evidence.  Apparently he had videos of kids on his phone.  They weren't sexual.  But they weren't his kids either.  The defense didn't want the videos to be admitted as evidence, the prosecution did.  The judge allowed them in as evidence.  Yes, alone they don't prove anything, but when you add them to all of the other evidence...

I was also, finally, told what the other charges were.  Possession of indecent images - so basically, child pornography.

The Detective and I spoke for quite a while, but I can't remember much of our conversation!  I'm just so overwhelmed right now.  I'M SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY.

GUILTY!!!!!

His bail has been revoked and he is now in jail.  His sentencing is on the 4th January.  I will be there for that. I need to give an impact statement, and then the judge will decide on his sentencing.

It's over.  I can't believe it's over.  He has been found guilty.  I don't need to be afraid of him anymore.  He is in jail.

YES YES YES YES!!

And I want to take this time to say a massive THANK YOU to everyone that has been praying for me, that has been sending me messages of support, for everyone that has been thinking of me during this difficult time.  Thank you all so, so much.  You have no idea how much I appreciate it.  Thank you.

God's will has been done.  Justice has prevailed.  Wow.

I can’t write anymore right now.  I have so many emotions swirling around my head right now to even think straight (happy emotions!), so I will leave you all with a song.

Every morning as my parents and I drove to court, this song was playing.  And everything evening as we drove back from court, it was also playing.  On the days when it went well I would sing (or rather, shout) along to it.  On the days were I felt it had gone bad and I felt numb, this song would keep me going.  It gave me strength.  So, enjoy!

Still nothing

Still no verdict yet.  If there’s one thing I've learnt, it’s that the law moves extremely slowly.  Apparently the judge alone gave a 3 hour closing speech.  Three hours.  Is that a good thing?  Or a bad thing?

I’m terrified that he will be found not guilty.  Everyone keeps telling me that no matter what happens; I've done all I can.  It’s completely out of my hands.  I need to move on with my life.  I agree with them.  But it’s not that easy.

Have I really done all I can?  Could I have been a stronger witness?  If only I hadn't deleted all of his emails, his texts, his voice-mails etc.  But I was a stupid kid, I wanted him out of my life.  After he raped me, I wanted to wipe him out of existence.  The closest I could get was wiping any and all evidence of him out of my life.  I can see now that that was an incredibly stupid thing to do.  Had I kept everything of his, then this would be an open and shut case.

He claims we met when I was 16.  My diary disproves that, but so would the emails.

He claims it was never sexual.  All the pictures would have disproved that.

He claims I’m making it all up.  Again; the pictures, the emails and the texts would disprove that.

I’m kicking myself right now.  But I was so convinced that no one would believe me, that I would just put a lid on it and get on with my life.  I never thought I would report him or take him to court.  But I have.  And I wish I still had those emails and pictures and texts. 

What if the jury says he’s innocent?  All of this will have been for nothing.  Except that the police are aware of him.  But still… I have no doubt about the fact that if he’s found innocent, that it will have a big impact on him.  One of the most difficult things I've ever had to do was go to the police and report him, be questioned about him and go to court.  If he’s found innocent, it means that I wasn't believed.  That I would make something like this up, that I would lie after having sworn on the Holy Bible, that I’m a liar.

One of the worst things for a child abuse victim/rape victim is to not be believed.  Now I need to wait and see if these 12 strangers believe me, or him.

Because I told the truth on the stand.  I was sworn in.  I held the Holy Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  And I did.  Even when it made me look bad, I told the truth.  He didn't, he couldn't have.  Unless he admitted it, which I doubt.  He couldn't be telling the truth if he's disputing everything that I've said.

And my Aunt told me that his daughter was in the court, in the gallery.  Who the fuck would bring their daughter to a trial like this?  She’s only a teen.  Why would he do that?  Why would he put her through that?  Why would his wife allow it?  It’s sick.  Just sick.

I also worry – did he hurt his daughter?  He hurt me, but does that mean that he hurt his daughter as well?

One of the things that I will have to live with for the rest of my life is knowing that he could have hurt someone else.  I could have stopped that from happening, if I had spoken up sooner.  I pray that he hasn't hurt someone else, but I just don’t know.  And that kills me.  I will have to live with the uncertainty and guilt for the rest of my life.

I’m worried.  I’m really worried.  I want to know the verdict so I can deal with it.  Right now I feel like I’m living in limbo. 

I just want this to be over

Tomorrow...?

I’m full of flu at the minute, so I’m not exactly feeling great.

I've heard from the police, and was told that he testified today, and so did some people as a character witness.  When I heard this, I said to my parents; ‘what are they going to say?  That he’s such a nice guy for a pedophile?’ 

I have to joke at the minute – it’s either laugh or cry, and I've done enough crying.

I wish I knew what he said, what was asked, what the character witnesses said etc.  But I'm not allowed to know, not until it's all over.

Tomorrow are the closing speeches and then the jury retires to talk about the verdict.  So the verdict could be tomorrow.  I’m extremely nervous.  What if they find him innocent?  I would have gone through all of this for nothing.  Well, not for nothing.  No matter how this plays out, I don't regret finally telling the truth.  I don't regret going to the police.  It won't have been for nothing, because I - finally - stood up to him and I fought back.

I'm still pretty scared right now though.

And it sucks that I can’t make an appointment with my psychologist.  I’m desperate to talk to her, to talk about the trial, the impact it’s had on me etc.  But there’s a tiny chance that she could be called to give evidence, so we’re not allowed to talk.

I know that it’s the justice system, but it’s absolutely ridiculous.  Until the trial is over I’m not allowed to talk about it, so I’m just left with all these feelings and fears that I’m not allowed to give a voice to.  Not exactly great for my mental health.

But, tomorrow there should be a verdict.  Holy crap.

Testifying again

1:10am – Please brain, please let me go to sleep.  It’s actually hurting my eyes to have them open to type this, but I just can’t get to sleep.  I’m so, so tired.  Why can’t I sleep?  I need to be on top form for tomorrow.  I need to be at my best, because I’m going to be hit with the defense’s full strength.  I need to be well rested so that I’m capable of defending myself from the defense.  This is awful.  Please brain, let me sleep.

1:40am – Still can’t sleep.  I’m tossing and turning.  I’m trying to empty my mind, to steady my breathing.  I’m using all the tricks in the book to help me sleep and nothing is working.  I've given up for now.  I’ll try again in a little while.

I forgot to mention before, what with everything else that’s going on – but the defense doesn't have the link to my blog.  Thank God for small mercies.  It turns out that my parents gave the link to the police (which I knew about, after they had given it) and the police told the defense that I had a blog.  I thought that meant that they had given them the link, but they haven’t.  All that they’re required to do by law is to let the defense know if its existence, they don’t have to let them know of the location.  So that’s good.

My family and friends are also being amazing.  I’m getting so many texts, emails and messages on Facebook wishing me luck, and telling me that they’re praying of me/thinking of me/sending me positive vibes.  The support is overwhelming.  I have some pretty amazing people in my life, which I am extremely grateful for.

I wonder what he’s doing right now?  Is he managing to get any sleep?  Is he as worried as I am?  Or is he confident that he’s going to get away with it, because people like him always get away with it?

I know that no matter what happens, I've done all that I can.  But that’s only a small comfort.  To be honest, it’s not very comforting at all.

Things keep going round and round in my head.  I keep thinking about what the defense said, and how frustrating it is that I’m not allowed to tell the whole story.  I hate the fact that the law is bending over backwards to accommodate him, whereas it is bitch-slapping me in the face.  I now understand when people say that it’s like being raped all over again.  Because that’s exactly what it feels like.

All I can do is stay calm, to not rise to the bait.  When she is bombarding me with things like ‘I think that’s not what happened, I think this happened, I think that happened, I think you’re mis-remembering etc.’, all I can do is to keep repeating ‘no’, over and over again.

Isn't it true that you only met when you were 16?

No.

Isn't it true, in fact, that you never met?

No.

Isn't it true that there was no mention of anything sexual?

No.

I think you’re misremembering.

No.

I think you’re over exaggerating.

No.

I think you like to tell stories and make things up.

No.

On and on and on it goes.  On the bright side, however, is the fact that I’m not stupid.  Okay, I’m not exactly a genius, but I’m not dumb either.  So when she asked me why, when I was in my early teens, I searched for something along the lines of ‘rape support, rape laws, falsely accused rape, incest, pedophilia’ etc etc.  I told her the truth.

I was doing a presentation for school.

As a young teenager you chose the topic of pedophilia?  Doesn't this, in fact, mean that you knew what was happening to you, that you would have told someone when you realised it related to you?  That, in fact, you’re making the whole thing up and none of this ever happened, but that you like the attention?

We all had to choose a topic that would have a big impact – some of my friends chose domestic violence, testing on animals for cosmetic reasons, famous serial killers and so forth.  I wanted mine to have an impact as well so I chose that subject, as not long ago the famous pedophile Marc Dutroux had escaped from prison and was always on the news, that’s what gave me the idea for my presentation and I never associated it with me, because I thought that he was my friend, I trusted him.

I don’t think she was expecting my answer to be so coherent.  But, like I said, I was telling the truth.  I swore on the Bible to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

Yes, looking back now I can see that he was grooming me, that he was using me for his perverted sexual pleasure.  But at the time I didn't realise this.  I thought I had made a cool older friend.  I was being bullied at school, I was fat, I was shy.  Then here’s this cool older guy that says I’m pretty, that I’m perfect as I am, that I am funny and sexy.  He listens to my dumb, childish problems.  He treated me like an adult, he listened to me.  And when he asked me if I’d ever kissed or touched anyone, I thought he was just interested in me.

Now, as an adult looking back, I can see all the obvious warning signs.  I can see exactly what was happening.  At the time I thought I’d made a new friend, and I didn't want to disappoint him by being childish in case he stopped being my friend, so I did what he wanted.

But at the time I didn't know what was happening, I couldn't see it.  I was a child.  I know it wasn't my fault.  But the defense keeps pushing and pushing at me, blaming me, calling me a liar, that I’m doing this for the money, that I’m living in a fantasy world, that I've got the wrong guy and so on.

It’s draining.  So draining.

And that was only round 1.  Round 2 is tomorrow (or rather, today).  And I’m dreading it.

Why am I being punished for being abused?   I hate this so much.

2:40am – Sorry about my last entry, I know I rambled quite a bit.  I’m just so unbelievably tired and can’t think straight.  I’m leaving it in, because I think it’s a pretty accurate representation of where my head is at the minute.

I desperately need sleep.  Why can’t I bloody well get to sleep?  I’m about to cry tears of utter frustration.

1:30pm – I eventually managed to get to sleep sometime between 3-4am.  I did not want to get up this morning.  Am exhausted.

We arrived in court just before 10am.  There was another woman in the witness lounge and we got talking, she was telling me about her case (not going to go in to details, but she was here for a domestic violence case as the victim).  Talking to her helped me quite a bit, I forgot why I was here for a while, and was just listening to her.

Then at just after 11am I was called through to the witness box.  I was reminded that I’m still under oath.  Then the prosecution (the good guys) questioned me.  So many questions.  Entries from my diary were read out – my Lord, I was such a melodramatic child!  It was quite hard to read it, especially in front of everyone.  I wrote a lot of crap about my parents, saying I hated them,  I wrote about my self-harm and bulimia, I wrote about silly childhood crushes etc.  It was embarrassing having my life dissected.   The validity of my diary was questioned etc.

Then questions about the internet history were asked, about all the porn sites he sent me.  I told the truth, that I can’t remember the names of them so couldn't confirm for definite, but that if you looked at the times of them it was around the time that I was on the computer etc.

Then she asked me why I only went to the police as a young adult, and not as a child.  I again told the truth.  That I didn't tell anyone, that it took me years to tell my psychologist and then it was only with her help and support that I was able to tell my parents, months afterwards.

Now the court has broken up for lunch.  I was being questioned for almost 3 hours.  And that was only the prosecution.  At 2pm I have to go back to be interrogated by the defense.  I’m terrified.

When I was brought back to the witness area, I was shaking so much I couldn't even hold and drink my cup of coffee for fear of spilling it.  I've had two cigarettes and I’m about to have another.  I cried and hugged my Mum.

I also prayed.  The chapel wasn't open, but there’s an empty room that I was allowed to use, and I prayed.  I cried a bit.  I asked for strength.

I feel a lot calmer now.  I’m still shaking a bit and I’m still terrified, but I feel calmer.  I trust in God, He gives me strength.

Oh man, I’m absolutely terrified to be interrogated by the defense again, to be called a liar, a money-grabber etc etc.  I want this to be over.

10:00pm – I’m at home now.  Ended up being questioned by the defense for 45 minutes.  I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not – 45 minutes.  It was still pretty awful.  She kept phrasing things in a way that made me look awful.

She also asked the question about why it took so long for me to report, especially as there could be other victims.  And that’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life – knowing that, because of me, he could have hurt someone else.  Because I was too weak to come forward.  Yes, he would be ultimately to blame, but I could have stopped him.  Potentially, someone’s ruined childhood is on my hands.  And I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.  It haunts me.

She asked so many other questions, made out the diary was fake, that I had just written it, that I had only mentioned him a few times and he was just a friend etc.  I only mentioned him a few times because at the time I was terrified that my Mum would find my diary and read it and find out about him.

It was awful.  She hadn't quite finished her questioning, but the T-loop system broke, so I couldn't hear a thing.  I was dismissed. 

I came out of the courtroom and found my parents.  I broke down crying.

My police liaison officer has just been amazing throughout all of this.  She is absolutely fantastic.  So is the kick-ass detective.  Couldn't ask for better.  They’re both absolute stars.

I’m home.  The drive back was long, and I couldn't sleep.  Was too agitated, so I kept my parents company while one drove and the other had a nap, and I am now home.  I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.

I just want this nightmare to be over.  I’m drained – emotionally and physically.  Exhausted.  Depleted.  I just want this to be over.

First day testifying

10:30am – I managed to get some sleep last night, but not much.  Kept waking up, had a lot of nightmares.  Dreamt about him.  He was chasing me, then caught me and he said ‘I’m very disappointed in you, this was meant to be our little secret, how could you do this to me?  Now you’ll never speak again’, and he ripped out my tongue.  It was horrible.

Right now I’m sitting in the witness area again.  I've had to give my permission for some medical details to be brought up, such as my PTSD.  Don’t really want him to know about it, but I am aware that it could help my case.  I’m realising very quickly that in a case like this, there is no such thing as privacy - my whole life is open to scrutiny.  Not his, but mine.

The witness area is quite busy, there are 4 other witnesses here today for various other cases.  Yesterday my parents and I were alone in the room, today we’re not.  It makes it more formal, more real somehow.

 

I’m also quite worried – I was told to apply for CICA, which I think stands for Criminal Injury Claim Association, or something like that, by my doctor.  So I applied for CICA.  I had never heard of it, and was told it’s the normal thing to do.  Now I've been told by the police that I shouldn't have done that, as the defense will say I’m making it all up for the money, which just isn't the case.  Yes, the money would help (seeing a psychologist is expensive, and that’s what I would spend the money on).  But if it came down to it, I want him to go to jail, I don’t want the money.

So stressed right now.  The fact that I have to read through my statement again and again isn't helping.  I’m reading myself describing the years of abuse over and over.  It’s not pleasant.  I want this to be over.

11:25am – I’m getting much better at this waiting game.  I've been in the witness area for almost 2 ½ hours.  I’m still very anxious and nervous, but I’m not in the same state as I was yesterday.  I’m managing to read my book (which is just some trashy chick-lit I picked up at a service station on the way down).  Time is moving a bit faster than yesterday, probably because I’m not pacing the room and twiddling my thumbs.

I just want this to be over, though.  I’m still dreading being cross-examined.  I've seen enough movies to know that the defense is going to put me through the wringer.  Everyone keeps telling me that it’s nothing personal, that she’s just doing her job.  I know this.  But at the same time, for me it is personal.  She is fighting to free the monster that abused me for 5 years and raped me.  How is that not personal?

She is defending the man that ruined my childhood.  She is protecting the man that stole my innocence.  She is sticking up for the man that raped me.  And she will be attacking me, the one that was sexually abused from the age of 12.

So yes, I know she is just doing her job.  But to me it is personal.  How can it not be?

1:10pm – I've been testifying.  The court has broken up for lunch, I've had a cigarette and some water.  I can’t eat.  I feel sick to my stomach.  It’s worse than I thought.  It’s absolutely terrifying.  And I've only been questioned by the prosecution.  If that was bad, how bad is the defense going to be?  I keep looking at the jury thinking; ‘you are going to decide whether he goes to jail or not.  You are going to decide whether he’s guilty or not’.  They’re normal; they look like normal people, nothing distinguishing about them.  Just members of the public.  They probably don’t even want to be here.  And they’re going to decide his future, and mine.

So far we haven’t gone in to detail.  E. (my barrister) has been asking me questions about my childhood; where I grew up, how many languages I speak, what subjects I took at school etc.  Then near the end she started asking about how old I was when I first met him online, what we talked about (in the beginning it was the current bands – the Spice Girls – and school, Eastenders, things like that.  After a few months it turned sexual, but gradually, so it seemed normal).

I was shaking the entire time.  Absolutely shaking.  I kept thinking, he’s in the same room as me.  He’s listening to this.  He’s in the same damn room as me.  It’s horrible, knowing that your abuser, your rapist, is sitting mere feet from you.  Yes, I can’t see him as I’m sitting behind a screen.  But I know he’s there, listening. 

I hate this.  I want it over.

6:10pm – It was awful.  I’m in my hotel room right now, after being interrogated for 2 ½ hours.  It was horrendous.

First the prosecution interviewed me, which was difficult in itself.  I had to say exactly what happened; what he did, what he made me do etc.  It was horrible and humiliating.  Then the prosecution had her turn.  It was horrendous.  I was preparing myself for the worst, and it was so much worse than that.

She told me that in reality, he and I had only conversed for up to 9 months, not 5 years.  That we had started talking when I was 16.  That it was never sexual.  I kept saying ‘no, no, no’ to everything.  But she made me out to be a complete liar.  Then she used some stories that I had written – I used to fancy myself as an author – and said that if I could write those, then I obviously had a good imagination and could go down to the smallest detail, just like I was doing with this case.  That it was all in my head.

She said I was doing it for the money (the CICA thing).  That I was exaggerating.  On and on and on, until I broke down crying.  It was absolutely horrendous.  And the worst part is, I have no idea if the jury believed her.  It really could go either way.  She was so convincing.

But, the good part?  I now have no feelings whatsoever about him.  I no longer care about him.  At all.  I don’t want to protect him.  I don’t want to make his life easier.  I despise him.  I utterly despise him.  I know I need to work on that, I need to find it in myself and in God to forgive him.  But right now, I hate him.

At 4:30 I was told I could leave, but that I had to go back tomorrow.  I went back to the witness area, saw my parents and burst in to tears again.  I am now completely drained.

6:20pm – I've had a few thoughts.  The first – I kept diaries as a child.  I threw most of them out, or they got lost in the move from Belgium to England.  But I know I kept one from when I was 13 or 14.  I asked a friend up North (who has the keys to our house) to search for it.  They found it!!  I have no idea what I wrote, but he was such a big part of my life, so I must have written about him.  They’re posting it up to the hotel, so that I can give it to the police tomorrow. At least it will prove that he’s a liar, that we were talking when I was younger than 16.

The other thing that keeps going round in my head is that he’s saying we've never met, that we only talked online for at most 9 months.  Complete and utter bullshit.  He admitted to the police when he was first questioned that when I was 17 we had sex.  He said it was consensual.  It wasn't.  But in his statement he said that we had sex.  But I’m not allowed to bring that up.  Why the fuck not?  It would show that he’s a liar.  The law is protecting him, the rapist, not me, the victim.  Why the fuck am I not allowed to mention it, but not use the word ‘rape’?  It would show the jury that he’s a liar, that he lied about that so he’s lying about the rest.

I told the truth.  The whole painful truth, even when it made me look bad.  I told the truth.  So why the fuck can I not point out something that obviously proves he’s a liar?

Okay.  Breathe.  Calm down.  I’m just so frustrated.  Today was hell.  It was 100 times worse than I was expecting.  It was horrendous.  At first I was upset, I cried, I was shaking.  Now I’m furious.  Why does the law protect him and not me?

I’m also wondering why I bothered to report it.  The defense asked that question as well.  She said something along the lines of ‘if what you say is true, why didn't you report it immediately, why wait until you were in your 20s – he could have done it to someone else’.  That is something that I will always blame myself for – if he’s done it to someone else.  But I was scared and at first I didn't realise it was abuse and rape.  Then I thought too much time has passed to do anything about it.  It was only when I told my parents and they believed me and asked me if I wanted to report it, that I realised I really did want to report it.

But seriously, I've just been put through hell.  And the jury might believe him.  So what was the point?

I’m exhausted.  I’m drained.  I want to go home.

6:55pm – I keep going over and over in my head what I was asked, and the answers I should have given.  I can think of so many better answers.  I’m kicking myself.  I wish the justice system was like in America, where the lawyers are allowed to prepare you and give you practice questions and anticipate what the defense will ask.  I was completely unprepared, and I fear I've ruined it.

8:30pm – Memories are coming flooding back.  Things I don’t want to remember.  I’m trying to get to sleep.  I’m so tired.  But every time I close my eyes, I’m flooded with memories.  I want to forget.  But I can’t.  And I’m remembering more and more, it’s horrible.

The first day

9.40am - I hardly got any sleep last night.  I also threw up in the early hours of the morning.  Think it’s my nerves getting to me.  I’m absolutely dreading today.  I can’t believe it’s happening, that today is the first day of the trial, and I’m testifying.

It doesn't seem real.  After all this time, it’s finally happening.  And I’m terrified.  What if the jury hates me?  What if they don’t believe me?  What will the defense ask?

I know that the defense is just doing her job, that I shouldn't take anything personal.  But I also know that it will be personal – she is going to try and get the jury to not believe me.  She is going to make out that as a 12 year old I came on to a 33 year old man.  She will do anything in her power to make me look bad.  And I’m terrified.

Part of me wonders how she can represent him.  But the other part of me knows that that isn't fair.  She is only doing her job.  But in my eyes, she is protecting the man that ruined my childhood.  She is protecting the man that abused me for years.  She is protecting my abuser by making it look like it was my fault.  I know it’s her job and I’m not being fair on her.  But still… that doesn't make it any easier for me.

I just need to remember that I’m not alone.  I have my family, I have my friends, I have the prosecution.  I have a lot of support.  I am not facing this alone. 

Except, in court, I will be alone and she will do everything in her power to break me.  And I’m absolutely terrified.

11am – I've arrived at the court house.  After being searched to make sure that I have no weapons on me, I was directed to the witness area.  I’m currently sitting in the lounge.  It’s quite a nice room really.  It was obviously designed with the help of a psychologist – the walls are a very pale, calm yellow and the pictures that are dotted around the room are of serene scenery.  It’s all designed for a calming effect.

I feel anything but calm right now.

I've bought a book with me, but I’m reading the same passage over and over again, with nothing going in.  My stomach is in knots.  I couldn't eat this morning.  I feel sick.

There’s a TV in this room with some DVDs.  I might try and watch something – again, all the DVDs are either comedies or chick-flicks, which I suppose is to calm you down.  No point watching an action movie and getting the adrenalin running – think I might overdose on adrenalin that way!

11:50am – I've met my lawyer, or rather, barrister, E.  She seems really nice.  Obviously we couldn't go in to detail and she couldn't tell me what she was going to ask me in court etc., but she just said that it’s okay to be nervous.  We talked a bit about my hearing and she asked if there was anything that needed to be done.  I told her the T-loop in court needed to be switched on and that when either she or the defense are asking me questions they need to face me so that I can lip-read.

She seems nice and good at her job.

I've been given my statement to read over.  It’s awful.  They suggested that I read it about four times.  It’s not nice.  Just reading over and over again what I said at my interview.  It makes me feel like a victim.  They are the words of a victim, of a scared child.  It’s pretty difficult to read.

12:30pm – time is moving so slow.  I've been told that I’ll probably give my testimony at about 2pm.  Another hour and a half to wait, possibly longer, possibly shorter.   It’s the waiting that is awful.  I’m here now, I’m ready to testify, I want it out of the way.   The waiting is horrible.  I’m getting more and more anxious as time progresses.

I went outside for a smoke before.  I’m not allowed to go out alone (I guess they’re afraid of witness tampering or something).  If it was up to me, I’d be chain smoking this entire time.  I want to sit outside on the steps with the breeze in my hair, listening to the birds and smoking a cigarette.  Unfortunately, I can’t do that, unless someone is with me.  Which sucks.  There should be a smoking room or area for witnesses to go.

God, I hate this waiting.

1:10pm – I've just had some lunch.  I wasn't hungry, but I forced myself to eat.  I don’t want my stomach rumbling when I’m on the stand.  Had to find someone to come outside with me while I had another smoke.

The court has broken up for lunch.  The opening statements have been made (I assume).  In 50 minutes the court will start again and I will be called in.  I don’t think I've ever been so scared.  Well, I have.  Let me rephrase that.  Since the rape (which I’m not allowed to mention in court), I haven’t been this scared and nervous.  I am petrified, and extremely glad I chose to have a curtain around me while I’m questioned.  I’m in a right state right now, and the last thing I want is to see him and for him to see me like this.

1:40pm – Not long to go now.  Oh man.  Oh man.  Oh man.  I’m so nervous.  I’m going to ask if I can go in to the chapel about 5 minutes before I need to be in court.  I know there is nothing I can do but put my trust in God.  I think spending some time in the chapel will help to calm me, to center myself.

2:40pm – Turns out the jury hasn't been sworn in yet, all this time it’s been the two lawyers having verbal arguments to decide which evidence is allowed in and which isn't.  Some questions were raised, and I've had to give another statement to clarify some things.  He used to send me links to porn sites, most of them featured kids.  Bear in mind that that alone is classed as child abuse – directing a child of 12/13/14 to porn sites.  The thing they needed to clarify was which of these adult sites he directed me to, and which of them were visited by my parents…  So yes, that was a bit awkward!

Then I was told that the lawyers need to finish their argument, and then the jury will be sworn in and the opening statements will be given and only then will I be called to the stand.  I've been told that the chances of me being called today are very slim, and that I will probably be called tomorrow instead.

This waiting is absolutely exhausting.  I’m tired.  I’m fed up.  I want this to be over.

I’m annoyed as well.  Not at any particular person – I know it’s no one’s fault.  But I've been sitting here all day, getting more and more anxious, worried about being cross-examined etc., and it turns out I probably won’t even testify today.  It’s so frustrating.

I tell you, the judicial system is absolutely crazy.

4:30pm – I’m now back in my hotel room.  I didn't end up testifying today, that will happen tomorrow.  I just want it to be over.  I’m tired.  I want to go home to my bed.  I want to sleep for a week.  This morning I woke up terrified.  Throughout the day I was getting more and more anxious.  Now I’m ready.  I want it over.

7:10pm – Even though I didn't testify today, I’m exhausted.  Completely worn out, I can barely think.  Today has shaken me more than I realised.  I started panicking while I was outside smoking, wondering if he is nearby.  We were in the same building today.  The same building.  That’s a pretty scary realisation.  The man that abused me, ruined my childhood, was in the same building as me.  So right now, even though I know the chances of him being in this hotel are virtually nothing, I’m still freaked out.  I’m seeing him everywhere I go.  My mind playing tricks on me.  I’m constantly on edge.

Travelling down

I wasn't allowed to update this blog while the trial was going on, and I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone until the jury had reached a verdict.  However, I still kept a record of what was going on, and wrote everything down in a Word document.  I’m now posting what I wrote on the days that it happened.   I apologize for the swearing, but these are my actual feelings at the time that I wrote it.

18/11/12, evening

So the defense have managed to get their hands on my blog.  That means that for the duration of the trial, I can’t update it.  Instead, I’m following the advice of a friend and writing it in a Word document, to post online later.

I’m currently in London.  The drive down wasn't too bad – I was asleep for the entire journey (didn't get much sleep the night before).  I’m now sitting in my hotel room, reading, surfing the net, watching TV; anything to keep me distracted, to stop me thinking about tomorrow.

I’m absolutely terrified.  I’m now wondering if the defense will use my blog against me.  I don’t think they will, as all I've written about are my feelings.  I don’t regret starting my blog and writing in it – it shows everything that I’m going through.  I am not ashamed of being abused and raped. I am not ashamed of suffering from depression and PTSD.  I am not ashamed of anything that I have done that is a direct (or indirect) result from the years of abuse.  They are a true reflection of everything that has happened to me since the abuse and since going to the police. I will not be quiet; I will not hide in the corner.  I was sexually abused as a child.   I was raped as a teenager.  That is not my fault, and I will not sugar-coat any of the effects it has had on me.

This is my blog.  I am a rape survivor and this is my journey to recovery.  We live in a rape-culture society, and I will NOT sit in a corner and quietly try and fix myself.  I will NOT stay quiet in case I offend someone or make someone uncomfortable.  We live in a society where women are taught not to get raped, instead of teaching men not to rape.  My story (and other stories like mine) need to be heard if there is any chance of changing the view that ‘women ask for it’.

Anyway.  I’m scared.  I will admit that.  I am terrified.  Tomorrow I testify.  Tomorrow I will have to relive 5 years of abuse in front of total strangers.  I will do it.  But I am terrified.

11.55pm – I've been trying to get to sleep for the past hour and a half.  No luck.  I’m absolutely exhausted, but sleep just won’t come.  No surprise there.  My parents said I could wake them up if I couldn't sleep – they would keep me company.  But in all honesty, I just want to be alone right now.  I’m terrified about tomorrow.

Hopefully I’ll just have to testify the one time.  But it’s possible that I could be called to the stand again, unless the judge dismisses me.  I hope he dismisses me tomorrow.

I’m completely unprepared for tomorrow.  If I was in America then my lawyer would prepare me, would ask me the type of questions that the defense might ask me.  I've not even met my lawyer.  The way the system works in the UK, I have to be completely unprepared.  I have no idea what kind of questions the prosecution and the defense will ask.  It’s pretty daunting.

I’m also dreading having to describe the abuse in front of everyone.  It was hard enough giving the statement, and that was in front of 3 people (two of which I couldn't see, as they were filming it).  So yeh, I’m dreading it.

I’m also wondering what he is doing right now.  Is he as worried about tomorrow as I am?  More so?  And I hate myself for this, but a part of me feels sorry for him.  Part of me still cares about him.  I know that is the abused child in me talking.  I know he groomed me, he molded me into his perfect little victim and he didn't give a rat’s ass about me.  But a tiny part of me still cares about him.  And I hate myself for it.

It’s difficult to explain why.  I don’t even understand why.  This man stole my childhood, my innocence.  He abused me for 5 years and he raped me.  So why the hell is there a part of me that feels guilty for putting him through this, why do I feel like I’m betraying his trust?  It doesn't make any sense.  I want to see him rot in jail; I want to see him punished for what he did to me.  But I also feel sorry for him.

So yeh, my emotions are all over the place at the minute.

And it’s just hit me – if the defense has the link to my blog, then that means he does as well.  Has he read what I've said?  I don’t edit my blog – I say it how it is.  I want people to realise the devastation that abuse and rape causes, and the only way to do that is to be completely honest with myself and everyone that reads this.  Which I guess includes him now.

I hate the fact that he could read my blog.  He’s already taken so much from me, why did he have to take the place where I write my unedited feelings down?  Not only did he mold me in to his very own toy, not only did he steal my childhood and corrupt my view on relationships, now he’s taking the one place where I can write openly about the impact his abuse has had on me.

That really, really sucks.  But I’m not going to stop writing.  He made me this way, he made me weak.  I’m not weak anymore and I’m not going to let him stop me from writing this blog.  I will not be silenced.

As you can see, there are some very conflicting emotions there.  I hate him, I despise him.  But a tiny part of me still cares about him.  And I hate that part of me so much – but not as much as I hate him.  Which I guess shows just how much work I need to do to forgive him.  I'm no where near forgiving him yet.

2 weeks

In exactly two weeks the trial will start.  I'm getting more and more nervous.  I'm worried about the defense lawyer interrogating me.  I'm worried the jury won't believe me and he'll get off.  I'm just worried.

I'm also angry.  There wasn't enough evidence to charge him with my rape, instead he's being charged for sexual abuse spanning 5 years.  It should be him that's worried about the trial, not me.  As a rape victim, my past will be put on trial, not his.  And I find that unbelievable.  It frustrates and angers me.  And it terrifies me.  What will the defense say?  That at at 12 years old I wanted it?  From what I've heard, this is exactly what the defense says.  And a lot of the time the jury believes them.

So yes, I'm terrified.  I'm also ill at the moment.  It is the worst possible time to be ill.  I need to have all my wits about me for the trial, I can't afford to be ill at the trial.  So off to the doctor's I go.  Let's hope that I'm better in a few weeks.

The trial is constantly on my mind.  Which means that what he did to me is constantly on my mind.  It's making me tired, scared and drained.  But I've found something else to take my mind off it.  I'm hosting a murder mystery part on the Saturday after the trial for my birthday.  I'm throwing myself in to organising it, as it helps to take my mind off it.  It also gives me something to look forward to.  I'm dreading the trial, but I'm looking forward to my party.

And I know that no matter what happens at the trial, no matter what the results are (which I should find out on the Friday), I'm going to have a great party and have fun.  I'm going to move on with my life, and I'm going to enjoy my life.

He took my innocence and my childhood.  I'll be damned if he's taking the rest of my life as well.

Rape Jokes

Not so long ago, a friend of mine, Elin Box, wrote an article (link can be found at the end of this blog) about rape jokes.  It’s something I’ve been thinking about for quite a while.  Unsurprisingly, I have a lot to say about this topic.  (Note: I’m talking about rape jokes that are offensive to rape victims, not rape jokes that highlight what’s wrong with our attitude towards rape.)  But first, let me tell you about an experience I had with rape jokes as a fresher at university.

I was sitting with a group of people – as it was the first term, we were all just starting to get to know each other.  Most of those people have turned out to be really great friends, but at the time we were pretty much strangers to each other.  One of the guys started to make rape jokes.  Everyone laughed, or rolled their eyes.  I was extremely uncomfortable.  At this point, I had only told one person at university that I had been raped.  Rape joke after rape joke was told.  Even though they had no idea that I had been raped, I felt humiliated.  Being sexually abused and rape was a huge trauma, one that I’m still recovering from.  It was painful, it was humiliating, it was terrifying.  And here someone was, making jokes about rape and rape victims; about me.  Luckily, the friend that I had told saw my discomfort and told the joker to stop, which he did.

A lot of people don’t see what the big deal is about rape jokes.  It’s all just for fun, after all, they would never actually rape someone.  But it is a big deal.  It undermines the seriousness of rape – and in a society where we often blame the woman for being raped (unless she’s a virgin that dresses like a nun), rape really doesn’t need to be undermined any further.

How do we blame the women, you ask?  If a woman was wearing revealing clothes, she was obviously asking for it.  If a woman accepted a drink from a man, she was obviously asking for it.  If a woman walked home alone at night, she was obviously asking for it.  We live in a country that is great at victim blaming, which results in 83% of women not to report their rape to the police.  And even when they do go to the police, they run the risk of not being believed, or are made to believe that it was somehow their fault.  A man (often stronger than they are) overpowers you, you fear for your life, his penis is forced inside you, yet somehow it is still your fault.  Because we all know that ‘no’ actually means ‘yes’.

(Just on a side note – to all those people that say a woman dressing provocatively was asking for it.  She may have been looking for sex, but is it still not up to her to choose WHO she has sex with?)

So, back to rape jokes.  Most people say they would never tell a rape joke to a rape victim as that would be in bad taste.  I ask you – how do you know if someone has been raped or not?  1 in 10 women have been raped or sexually abused in the UK (the actual number is probably higher, as many women do not admit to being raped).  So if you’re telling a rape joke, chances are a rape victim is within earshot.   This will probably make her (or him) feel humiliated, as it did with me.  One of the most traumatic events (if not THE most traumatic event) of her life, being openly belittled, made fun of and joked about as if it’s not a big deal, as if it didn’t almost destroy her.

There’s also another angle that most people don’t consider.  What do rape jokes say to rapists?  That really, it’s no big deal.  I know most men wouldn’t rape anyone – but not all men.  Some men would rape and have raped.  Hearing rape jokes might give them the impression that what they did really isn’t such a big deal.  It’s just fodder for jokes.  No biggie.  Sure, it’s a crime, but it’s not really a big deal – especially since my mates down the pub make fun of rape victims, so they think the same way that I do; rape isn’t a big deal.  As someone pointed out (sorry, can’t remember the actual source) ‘women are always the butt of the jokes, never the perpetrator’.  What does it say about our society that we would rather make rape victims feel uncomfortable than the rapist, that we would rather side with rapist in mocking and degrading women, than respecting women?

Some people will still have a problem with me having a problem with rape jokes.  First, ask yourselves whether you're laughing at a joke, or at the idea of rape.  Why is it so important for you to make jokes about the degradation of women?  Why is it absolutely necessary for you to mock a painful & traumatic event?  Freedom of speech?  Or the need to justify the feelings that you have deep down – that women are beneath men and deserve having a penis forced in to them?

Right at the beginning of this entry, I said how some rape jokes are okay.  I know some people may be confused about this.  An example of a rape joke that I personally think highlights society’s view of rape:

• We need more rape jokes.  We really do.  Needless to say, rape, the most heinous crime imaginable, is a comic's dream.  It's because, it seems, when you do rape jokes, that the material is so dangerous and edgy.  The truth is, it's the safest area to talk about in comedy because who's gonna complain about a rape joke?  Rape victims?  They don't even report rape. - Sarah Silverman

Some rape victims and sexual abuse survivors also make rape jokes.  To them, it can be cathartic.  I have been known to use humour when talking about my rape.  For instance, I was talking with my cousin who said he didn’t really know how to talk to me about the rape.  I laughed and said “you can just imagine this in a sitcom couldn’t you?  Two people sitting on a couch in uncomfortable silence until one of them finally, awkwardly says, “so…. You were raped…”

Admittedly, it’s not very funny, but humour can help to put people – myself included – at ease.  There can be great power in some rape jokes, as Elissa Bassist said; “Rape jokes can be empowering.  They could help you reclaim control when you’ve lost something you’ll never get back, or has been damaged beyond repair.” 

And a few example of rape which I think make fun of the seriousness of rape and/or make fun of the rape victim (I would like to ask you to picture yourself telling these jokes to a rape victim, would you still find them funny then?):

• What do nine out of ten people enjoy?  Gang rape.
• What is rape anyway, other than surprise sex?
• Ladies, look on the bright side.  Being raped burns more calories than regular sex!

To end with, I would like to share with you a quote from comedian Meghan O’Keefe, about the whole ‘Tosh rape joke incident’.  (For those that don’t know – comedian Daniel Tosh said that rape jokes are always funny, they’re hilarious etc.  A woman in the audience shouted out that ‘rape jokes are never funny’, to which Tosh replied ‘wouldn’t it be funny if you were raped by like, five guys right now?  Like right now?’  The entire audience laughed and she was humiliated.  The girl’s friend wrote about it on Tumblr and it soon went viral).  Here’s the quote: 

"If Tosh honestly thinks rape is funny... well, that's his opinion.  That's his worldview.  What's disturbing is that this is a worldview that is violent and that lacks empathy.  What's even more disturbing is that he's not some unknown comic presenting an unpopular opinion.  He's one of the most popular and beloved comic acts in the country.  Which means that a huge percentage of our country thinks rape jokes are funny, but not because they admire Jeselnik's wordplay or Silverman's irony or Mulaney's empathetic juxtaposition.  They think rape jokes are funny because they think the act of physically hurting and sexually dominating a woman against her will is funny.

And it's not.  They're not laughing at a joke.  They're laughing at the concept of rape.  Rape is disturbing and horrible.  It's one of the horrors that we should keep at bay with humour, not encourage.  Right now, the woman who posted the complain about Tosh is receiving legitimate death and rape threats from his fans.  So his "joke" didn't diffuse pain or horror - it sparked it."

Sources:

Rape statistics: http://www.mumsnet.com/campaigns/we-believe-you-campaign-rape-myths-busted

Elin Box’s article: http://www.palatinate.org.uk/?p=24278

Elissa Bassist’s article: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/07/11/why-daniel-tosh-s-rape-joke-at-the-laugh-factory-wasn-t-funny.html

Megan O’Keefe’s article: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/meghan-okeefe/daniel-tosh-rape-joke_b_1665121.html

His plea

Normally, writing in here helps to keep me calm. It gives me the opportunity to sort through my thoughts and speak my mind. However, since I found out what my rapist is pleading, I've been feeling extremely deflated and haven't had the energy to write in here.

I found out on Wednesday that he has pleaded 'not guilty' to all accounts - including those charges where the evidence is rock solid. I honestly didn't expect him to plead not guilty to all 43 charges. So, we're definitely going to trial. A trial date has also been set, and arrangements have been made for me to visit the courthouse and the courtroom before the trial starts.

So, how do I feel about this? Shocked. Angry. Tired. Empty. I had always thought that he would plead guilty to the charges where the evidence is overwhelming, and not guilty to my charges. Now there is a chance - a tiny chance, but a chance nonetheless - that he could be found not guilty on all charges, and he could walk. In which case, this has all been for nothing.

Except, I must remember, it hasn't been for nothing. The people in his life have been made aware of the kind of person he is. He is now on the police radar. And I will face him - no longer is he a monster I my nightmares, but a man. A man that no longer has any control over me.

I will be honest - I am absolutely dreading the trial. I have heard so many horror stories about what the defence puts rape victims through on the stand. Instead of putting him on trial, my character and sexual history will be put on trial. I am dreading being interrogated by his lawyer. But, I know I am strong enough to handle it. I know I will probably break down and cry on the stand (something which I am not looking forward to) but it will not destroy me. I'm ready. Terrified, but ready.

I wish it was all over. I want to enjoy the few remaining weeks of university, I want to spend time with my friends. I want to enjoy the summer balls. I want to have fun, and not worry about facing the man that abused me for 5 years.

I will be behind a curtain, so he can't see me and I can't see him. Part of me is relieved. But part of me wants to see him. The last time I saw him was when he raped me. I have only ever seen him when he abused me. I would like to see him in a setting where I am safe, where he can't hurt me and where I can show him that he has no power over me. Maybe one day. I agreed with the decision to give my testimony from behind a curtain, because I know it would take a lot out of me to see him. But one day, I do want to see him, to prove to him and to myself that I am the stronger one. I want to see him so that every time I close my eyes I don't see his face when he's finished raping me.

So, yes. This week has been tough. I went home to gather my thoughts and get some much needed TLC. But, I am now ready to go back to university and enjoy the last couple of weeks with my friends. I'll be damned if I'm going to let him stop me from having fun.

It's a compliment

Yesterday I was meant to find out what my rapist has pleaded and whether we're going to trial or not. The lead up to that day was very stressful - all the worst case scenarios were running through my mind and I was getting more and more anxious by the second. I hardly slept. So, I waited the entire day for a call from the police, which never came. Eventually I found out that the date has been rescheduled - I will now find out on June 6th. Another two weeks.

Will there ever be an end? At the minute, it feels like my entire life reloves around rape, the aftermath of rape and the trial. It feels like there is no end in sight. It's exhausting. I'm exhausted.

In the meantime, I have come across a website which I really like. It's a website run by another rape survivor. The link for it can be found here. The articles range from rape-related to homophobia to politics. It's a very, very good site.

In on of her articles, she makes a point of addressing the issue of rape as a compliment. Unfortunately, in the society that we live in, a lot of people still have the opinion that rape is a compliment. I have heard the comment, when watching the news with my friends; 'why would anyone want to rape her?'. After all, only attractive women get raped, right? So if you're raped, really, you should take it as a compliment that you're just far too attractive and sexy - men can't restrain themselves around you, they HAVE to rape you.

This again links in with the view that society has that somehow the victim was asking for it. After all, rape is just sex. If someone finds you sexually attractive, that's a great confidence booster. So surely being raped should be the ultimate confidence booster? You were just THAT attractive.

Take it from me. Rape is not a compliment. Rape destroys lives.

Small people, tall people, thin people and fat people get raped. Rape is not about sex. Rape is not about passion. Rape is not about being attracted to someone. Rape is about control and dominance. Anyone can be raped and it's just the matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Some people laugh at women - and men - that become intimidated by someone else. I have heard people wondering why a certain person is so anxious, when they're obviously nothing special to look at. What rapist would chose an ugly person to rape, when he could have the pick of far more attractive women? This, again, suggests that rape is on the same level as consensual, passionate sex - yes, it's a bad thing, but it's not that bad. It's just a guy that's had too much to drink and doesn't realise that the passion isn't recipricated. Rape is just on the far end of the spectrum of consensual sex.

In reality, rape is on a completely different spectrum. Rape has nothing to do with sex. Rape is about ascerting your dominance, it is about proving that you are better and stronger than another person. Rape is about killing a part of a person. It is about destroying free will. It is about making a statement of ownership. It is about saying 'your life is in my hands, you have no control, you mean nothing. You are less than nothing'.

Rape makes a rapist feel powerful, invincible. He (or she) is in complete control of another person. He is forcing himself onto someone else. Your body is no longer yours - all that you are, your mind and your body, is at the mercy of the rapist. He can do whatever he wants with you.

Rape is painful. Rape is humiliating. Rape is torture. Rape destroys.

Rape is not a compliment.

Around the corner

I had the meeting with the university about my request to re-take this year. I think it went well, and they should agree to it. That's a huge weight off my mind. It means I can have a fresh start - this year has been extremely difficult and it's taken all my energy to keep myself together, I had no energy left to focus on my work. And as such, my attendance and the work that I did do was abysmal. So I'm extremely relieved and greatful that I have been given the chance to re-take this year.

I have also heard from the police. The case has now gone from the Magistrate's Court to the Crown Court. The hearing that is taking place on May 22nd is to sort out the practicalities for when it goes to trial (I'm deaf and wear hearing aids, so they need to make sure that the T-loop is on etc) and to hear what he pleads.

I have been told to expect that he will plead not guilty.

So. It sounds like wWe are going to trial. He will plead not guilty.

Oh boy.

I have made the decision to go on the witness stand, but I will be behind a screen. I want to face him. But at the same time, I don't want him to be able to psych me out. I don't want to freeze up on the stand. And there is a huge possibility that I would freeze up if I saw him in person - the last time I saw him was when he raped me.

I just want this to be over so that I can move on.

The lead up to the trial, the trial itself and after the trial will be extremely difficult. I know I'm going to be emotionally drained. I'm already emotionally drained - the meeting with the university took almost all my strength. I have no idea how the trial will affect me.

But this is what I want. This is what we have all been working towards. Finally, after almost 1 1/2 years since I reported the abuse and rape, it looks like the trial is just around the corner.

And breathe...

Worry

In the next week and a half I will hear from my liason officer about what's happening with the trial, if there is a trial. Will he plead guilty to all accounts and go straight to jail, but serve a lesser sentence? Will he plead guilty to some charges and innocent to others? In which case he will still go to jail (due to the other chargers) but I will need to testify against him. Or will he plead innocent to all 40+ chargers? In which case I will need to testify, as well as other people. If that is the case, the chances of him being found innocent are next to nothing, as the evidence for some of the chargers are overwhelming. If he does choose this option, then when he is found guilty, he will serve a longer sentence.

So this is playing on my mind a lot at the moment. I know it is out of my control, I have no say in what happens. But my mind is playing through all the scenarios. Will he plead guilty? Will he plead innocent? Will I have to face him in court? Will I have to relive all those moments in front of everyone? Moments that I can barely bring myself to talk about in detail with my psychologist, friends and family, but will have to tell a room full of strangers. Not just strangers, but the defense, who will do everything s/he can to break me down and convince everyone that I'm lying.

That terrifies me. For almost all of my life, he has had a hold over me, he has abused me, he has raped me. And now, possibly, I will have to relive every single moment in a court full of strangers. I've heard some people say that going to court and being questioned and interrogated by the defense is like being raped again. And I can already see what they mean. I will have to tell them my worst memories, relive them and then argue against the defense as s/he tries to convince people that I am lying, that the abuse never happened, that my pain and suffering aren't real.

There is no best case scenario either. If he pleads guilty he gets a shorter prison sentence. If he pleads innocent I will get ripped apart and stomped on in the trial. For me, it's a lose-lose situation, as far as my mental health goes anyway. I guess it's a win-win in that either way he will go to jail, it just depends for how long.

So yes, it's on my mind a lot at the minute. I'm trying not to think about it, but how can I not?

It's leaving me completely exhausted and tense. My depression and PTSD are quite active at the minute because of it. Which means that it's difficult to study.

No matter how much I study, it's not enough. I'm working so hard, pushing myself to my limits to get this studying done. I'm using every ounce of energy and motivation I have. Which leaves me completely exhausted and depleted. And yet the studying that I can manage to do is no where near enough.

People keep telling me I need to study more, that time is running out, that the exams are looming. I know this. And I am doing my hardest. Everything I write and remember is a huge achievement for me, it is something to be celebrated. But it's not enough. I am doing as much as I physically can without causing myself to have a breakdown. I am working the hardest I can, I am working so hard that I am empty of everything else. But it's not enough.

I know I should feel angry at him for putting me in this position. I know if it wasn't for him I wouldn't have PTSD and I wouldn't be pushing myself to the absolute limits with almost no noticeable results. Yet I'm just too exhausted to feel angry. I'm too exhausted to feel much of anything. Except worry.

Worry about what news my police liason officer will bring. Worry about what my next nightmare will be about. Worry about facing him. Worry about being pushed to break down in court. Worry about not studying enough. Worry about failing my exams. Worry about having another panic attack. Worry about being a dissapointment - to myself, my friends and my family.

Me