I’m ashamed about a situation I put myself in 25 years ago.
What strikes me most is the way I feel grateful that I wasn’t assaulted. Isn’t that mad that our expectations of men are so low that when they don’t assault us, we feel lucky? Somehow, even indebted to them?
If he had assaulted me, 18-year-old me wouldn’t have gone to the police for fear of being dismissed as “asking for it” and that my being in his flat was a form of consent.
And now, as someone who has worked as a detective and investigated all the different horrific crimes that my imagination told me I was lucky to evade, I want to tell girls and women that they are never responsible for men’s violence.
Whatever you wear or don’t wear, no matter what alcohol or drug you consume, irrespective of the time of day, what streets you walk, woods you run in or the headphones you use, if you are a victim of sexual violence, it is never your fault.
It is solely the fault of the person attacking you.
