Thordis Elva: Goddess of Thunder
Trigger/content warnings: Rape, sexual violence, sexual assault, trauma
It is a bleak February day in 2017 and I have returned to my student house from classes on campus. My bedroom floor is covered in a sprawl of books, printed journal articles and post-it notes. I have up to 15,000 words to write for my bachelor’s thesis on Forgiveness and Reconciliation by the first week in April. The pressure feels immense as I will also have several other essays and projects to complete alongside my dissertation. My mind spins in a vortex of references, suggestions from my academic supervisor, quotes from the interviews I conducted and the continuous stream of stories on forgiveness that people keep sharing with me upon discovering my research theme.
Yet there is still always more to discover of this vast, almost unknowable topic. I know that whatever I manage to write in this dissertation will be the tiniest of drops in the infinitely expansive ocean of these important themes. As I look at the papers and books, I feel the need for a prompt; I need something more human than words on the paper and decide to browse the TED website for inspiration.
The first talk that pops up is brand new and I inhale sharply as I read the title:
Our Talk of Rape and Reconciliation — Thordis Elva and Tom Stranger
I have to give myself a few minutes, remembering my decision last summer to focus on the topics of forgiveness and reconciliation. How my impulse to explore these themes was in part triggered by my own direct experience of sexual assault. The gradual realisation that I had been intimate with someone on a regular basis who saw me as an object for his own sexual gratification. My increasing awareness, looking back on our time together, was that his pleasure and desire were prioritised, allowing his abusive attitude and behaviour to be normalised. It got to the point where he could assault me and it would then take me days if not weeks to fully realise what had happened.
My own personal process of healing was beginning just as women on social media platforms began sharing their frequent, devastating experiences of sexual violence. From harassment in the workplace to domestic abuse to rape, the endless cascade of stories showed us all that this was an every day reality for women and girls across the globe.
I pour myself a glass of wine and click on the TED talk. Thordis Elva, the Icelandic survivor is an instantly charismatic presence, fierce and vulnerable with luminous blue eyes and striking Icelandic features. Tom Stranger, her first boyfriend and rapist, looks like the quintessential Australian surfer with ruggedly handsome features. Thordis explains how her attraction to Tom, her first boyfriend makes it much harder for her to acknowledge the atrocity of his actions. I feel a deep wave of recognition as I think of how I could not see the extent of my ex’s abuse for the same reason.
They begin telling their stories , taking in turns to share their memories. Thordis in particular makes the hairs on my neck stand up. I am mesmerised by her clarity in storytelling, her open vulnerability when talking about the attack itself and the physical and emotional scarring with which she was left. I am also able to appreciate Tom’s humility and willingness to take responsibility for his rapacious entitlement and the wrongness of his actions. I realise that any man taking this kind of ownership, especially in a public space, has a very special kind of courage — or could it be hubris? In Tom’s case, it seems like a genuine willingness to be accountable for his horrible transgression.
After the talk, I order the newly published book that Tom and Thordis have written together, based on a nearly decade long email correspondence that they carried out before deciding to meet in person. The book’s content is almost as hard to read as watching the TED talk. Thordis especially does not shy away from the anguish she experienced in the immediate and long term aftermath of being raped by a man she had loved and trusted. It is beautifully honest, uncomfortable and painful, a searing account of trauma, recovery, accountability and moving forward.
In the book as in the talk, Thordis reminds survivors that she is not advocating for us all to go and befriend the people that have hurt us. The reminder that Thordis and Tom’s story was not prescriptive was, and is, profoundly helpful for me. I am often tempted to trivialise painful experiences and move on before I am ready.
I could easily contact my ex to say that I have forgiven him. But if he denies any wrongdoing and gaslights me, that could end up causing very unnecessary pain, undoing the gradual healing I am actively engaged in. Even if he is open and willing to hear my side of things, I do not think I am ready to talk to him, nor am I sure if I ever will be. Even so, just knowing there is a road-map, a possibility of dialogues like this happening between perpetrators and survivors, gives me a shot of reviving hope when navigating the often dark landscape of my own trauma and that of others.
I start to follow Thordis on social media platforms. I read her regular posts about her work fighting for gender equality and to end violence against women and girls. Her presence on Instagram is similar to how she comes across in the TED talk; radiant, direct and willing to share many personal stories and experiences to help others. She uplifts voices of survivors like herself and challenges authority figures in Northern Europe , especially her native Iceland (she is currently based in Sweden), to do better by women and girls.
About a year after I discover her, Thordis announces to her Instagram followers that she is pregnant with twin boys. It is shortly into her pregnancy that she has complications and is put on mandatory bed rest. By this point, her Instagram community is rallying around and Thordis begins to call us her Army of Light. People share their own stories of health challenges and how they’ve overcome them, stories that range from complex pregnancies to premature babies. It is beautiful to witness a virtual community engage in such active support. Thordis posts regular updates, sharing important personal symbols of hope during her pregnancy including pictures of swans and Acer trees .
Being a Millennial, I came of age on internet message boards with tight communities of people supporting one another through all sorts of life challenges. It is a testament to the deeply flawed platforms of social media that they can also provide such a space when used accordingly. It feels like one of those very 21st century sort of privileges to keep Thordis, her twins, her older son Frey and husband Vidir in my thoughts as I prepare for my own new chapter; moving to the USA and marrying my Californian fiancé.
After staying pregnant for three more months than her doctors expected, Thordis gives birth to her twin boys at 28 weeks. I cry when I read the post, as if Thordis and I are friends, rather than fleeting Instagram acquaintances. The twins are tiny. They are put on oxygen and against all the odds, both survive and begin to thrive. Thordis shares emotional posts on Instagram acknowledging the outpouring of support, energy and love that helped her and her family move through some incredibly dark and challenging days.
Two and a half years later, her sons Swan and Acer are bouncy, active and healthy toddlers. During that time, Thordis has continued to uplift voices of others with health crises or amplifying stories from women and girl survivors. Thordis also continues to share the ups and downs of family life where I am particularly struck by the extraordinary stories of her eldest son Frey. At the age of eleven, he is unafraid to educate anyone who might need ‘help’ in overcoming the limitations of gender binaries or gender critical thinking. Recently Frey was being bullied by a classmate for wearing mascara and after he had resolved the situation himself, Thordis suggested that maybe he was thinking outside of the “boy box.” Frey’s response:
‘Mom, there is no [gender] box. The moment we realise that, we become free.’ I remember actually gasping reading that line, the clarity and conviction in the statement and its brilliant reflection on Thordis and her husband Vidir’s parenting approach.
For me, Thordis is a powerful beacon in the gender equality movement, a woman unafraid to share her vulnerable truth out loud, like the thunder deity after which she is named. Truth that has powerful consequences for individual survivors, a group in which I include myself. She also sustains an online presence and community that support one another through the ups and downs of 21st century life. As we continue to have the courage to come forth and share our often painful and traumatic life stories in a society which still exists in the shadow of patriarchy, it is the fierce, uncompromising light of women like Thordis that help us loosen the grip of that shadow.
The extraordinary TED talk, please note that it comes with all the same trigger and content warnings as this article!
My favourite Thordis quote which is from the TED talk:
“Once someone’s been deemed a victim, it’s that much easier to file them away as someone damaged, dishonored, less than. And likewise, once someone has been branded a rapist, it’s that much easier to call him a monster — inhuman. But how will we understand what it is in human societies that produces violence if we refuse to recognize the humanity of those who commit it?”
Link to the incredible book.
