I Am Angry

I am angry. I am so fucking angry. I have been completely livid when I think about what I am about to do for the past few days. My police interview has been booked, and when it was confirmed, I was anxious. I feared sitting in that interview room and being judged. After I spoke to a friend, I realised that the fear isn’t mine. It belongs to the 28-year-old version of me who never said anything because she feared being judged and was scared that it was her fault. However, the me of today knows that’s utter crap, but I know exactly why I felt that way. Society has a way of blaming the victim. Just look at the Sarah Everard case. A Police Commissioner, Phillip Allott, said during an interview

So women, first of all, need to be streetwise about when they can be arrested and when they can’t be arrested.

Rather than blaming the police officer and suggesting that the police should not use their powers to take advantage of a lone woman walking home, he suggested that all women should be more aware, so they don’t find themselves in that position. Well, he can fuck off. The victim-blaming mentality that exists needs to change. This is why people don’t come forward. They know for a fact, through comments by those meant to protect them, that they are likely to be blamed. It fuels every bit of self-doubt that you have about yourself. It makes you feel like utter shit. It perpetuates the cycle of self-hate, blame and shame that you have running through you all the time.

Part of the reason I am so angry is that this is the second time I’ve had to sit in a police interview room because a man thought he was entitled to someone else’s body without their consent. When I was younger, I always wanted to be an actress.  Just after my 17^th birthday, I was accepted into a drama school. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a proper drama school. It was held in a family home. There were three of us doing this “course”. Two guys & me. Not long after I got there, the two guys decided to leave. As their room was now free, I got to leave the living room, where I had been sleeping. That first morning, I was woken up by my back being rubbed. The covers had been pulled down, and the hand was under my nightshirt rubbing my naked back. I looked up, and it was my drama teacher sitting on my bed, with his hand under my clothes. He told me that we would be going to the park later to work on romantic scenes. My stomach dropped. I told him I felt sick. Which I really did. Once he left, I got dressed, went downstairs and called my mum. I asked her to come and get me. She said she would. As soon as I put that phone down, I threw up everywhere. I knew in every part of my being that I was in danger. I felt safe when she said she was on her way and that fear had to come out; it was like a purge.

The police are the ones that found me. I went into my shell and didn’t say anything. The reason that they found me is that another young girl had been raped by him. The guilt I felt was immense. I blamed myself for what happened to her because if I’d have had the strength to say something, then maybe it wouldn’t have happened. I spent hours being interrogated, my diary being read and used as evidence against him. To a teenage girl, having your diary read and scrutinised is violating enough, without having every entry questioned. I know how it feels to sit in that room. I remember the policemen being lovely and helping me feel at ease. But, that doesn’t stop you from feeling shame and blame for everything you didn’t do and from wondering if you did something to deserve it. Society says as a victim, I probably did. I put the entire thing out of my head. I don’t even remember his name. I don’t know if he went to prison. I never wanted to think about him again, so I didn’t.  

Both times I should have been safe. I am angry that I wasn’t because the men I trusted couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. I have a real fear of being triggered by the interview itself and of being judged. I have a week to reframe my thinking. I have a week to turn the anger I feel into strength. But, you know what, I may not have had the courage to go to the police before, but I am in the room this time because I chose to report it. I am in the room because I am choosing myself, and I deserve justice. I am angry because I also have to accept that justice may never happen, even though he’s admitted it. It may just be my word against his, but at least I will know that I have done everything in my power, and I also have the truth and incredible support behind me. It is going to be one of the scariest things I have ever done, but it might just be the most liberating as well. I am ready to let go of the hold it has on me. Speaking my truth in that setting, might just be the thing to free me.