It was nearing 2am and there was palpable change in the atmosphere of the conversation, a

certain weight in the air. His breath stank of rum, and he there was an undeniable intensity in his
gaze.

“Hey get off me.”

Confusion, shock, fear.

“No. Stop”.

Moments that I will try to forget.

Slipping free and lost in the confusion of the party.

what just happened what just happened what just happened.

Crying in a bewildered bouncer’s arms.

Confusion, revulsion, anger.

Silence.

In the wake of trauma, women are allowed to express many things: shame, guilt, sadness but
never anger. Historically that emotion only exists to be hidden, turned against yourself, and
never shared in public. Our culture presents a certain method for grief and reconciliation, with
assault claims to be walled by skepticism, bureaucracy and political interest. Much of the hurt
that follows is a struggle to come to terms with what has happened and reconcile that with what
you know of the world. Invalidated women are allowed to be many things, but never angry. The
Australian Human Rights Commission’s (AHRC) recently found 10 per cent of female students
had been sexually assaulted in the last two years alone. 10 percent. But who would care? That
woman is someone you know, she is just a number. So you doubt the validity of the statistics, the
activism as virtue signaling, the stories as baseless rumour. It’s not an issue you need to think
about.

I didn’t know why in the bouncer’s arms I couldn’t speak. Why I lied to myself and my friends
about what really happened. Why I cried for a long time with the reporting number in my hand.

Assault is a lonely and isolating experience.



Of all the so-called ‘serious crimes’, assault is said to be the most underreported, with figures
issued by the Australian Institute of Criminology as staggering as 70 %. But it is not just the law
that reflects this silence, it’s our campus, our responses to our friends.

Why do we respect a response to trauma that silent and personal; a concession that sexual assault
is ‘unjust, but nevertheless a part of reality’? Why do we reinforce the notion that strong women
are silent women?

When I said finally said something, after three drinks and unwilling cry, I was asked to keep it
hidden. “He was probably drunk and wasn’t thinking. And anyway he’s running for exec this
sem”.

But I am not alone.

I have heard too many stories.

Hushed whispers and innuendo.

But nothing more.

To walk into the middle of eastern avenue, to cry and to scream, to shout at those who pass by,
or those who watched and did nothing -is not allowed. Because after all, who wants true
empathy? Who wants to see the reality of trauma? Who wants to understand what it is like to be
sexually assaulted, to have something about yourself that is so intimate- violated. Nobody wants
to share that pain. No. we want #MeToo, nondescript recounts, and cryptic pseudonym
allegations, an empty applause and for you to deal with it in private. We want confidential
complaints, a meeting with HR, and a boss that smiles sympathetically, promising to ‘keep it
between us’. We want student services and bureaucracy, an inaccessible wall of forms and
uncertainty. There is a space for it but only in the confines of a clinic, behind a shut door, only
for an allocated time and certain sum of money - are your feelings legitimate. No-one must
know. Women are not allowed to be angry.

Trauma is deep and the injustice of having one’s social experience denied and hidden from
communal understanding is choking. It recently came to light that the Broderick Report into
college abuse withheld the stories and accounts of assaults of students from the
public. With Principal Michael Spence declaring that “public interest in people knowing the
details of individual stories” is not desirable as "the focus should be on general behaviour”. The
account cannot be given, the story cannot be told.
The inherent complexity of each assault is used by perpetrators firstly to take advantage of the
victim and then justify their actions through the ambiguous factors: Consumption of alcohol,
relationship to the person and the status of the perpetrator. Factors not too far removed from the
resounding traditionalist gong of “personal responsibility, and used to rationalize the
unthinkable. The recent appointment of the Bret Kavanaugh didn’t even matter, but I think it
showed why we never speak. When for a brief moment the story of a victim is told, it is
invalidated by skepticism; subject to the opinions, cultural background and personal beliefs of
those who hear it.

When I slipped from his grip, there is a moment in my mind I ‘d rather forget. For a brief
second- I met his gaze, the face that had never hinted anything reprehensible, that face, so well-
known and respected – was silent. There was no remorse, no pity, and maybe, just maybe…
unless I truly imagined it, a slight hint of pleasure.

But we women are not allowed to be angry.