I don’t know what it’s like to be Brittany Higgins. But unlike most people commenting on her in the wake of making rape allegations (allegations that are vehemently denied), I do know what it’s like to be raped by a political staffer while working for a politician, because it happened to me.
I was one of hundreds of people who made submissions to the sex discrimination commissioner Kate Jenkins’ Set the Standard report. After the report was released, I hoped that people in positions of power would listen, would care, would act and would hold abusers accountable.
I hoped that even if justice was out of reach for me, it would be within reach for younger women who reported similar experiences to mine.
Set the Standard was a 456-page memo to everyone in Australian parliamentary workplaces – politicians, their staff, parliamentary department staff and journalists. The message: Do better. Some people in parliament didn’t need the report to get the memo. They already understood the issues because they had lived them. Others read the report and were able to empathise and understand.
But cultural change takes time and happens one person at a time. There are people in and around parliament who you could hit over the head repeatedly with that report and who would still not get the memo. There are also some people in parliamentary workplaces about whom serious allegations of inappropriate behaviour have been made which remain unresolved. The continued presence of those people undermines attempts to improve the culture.
In 2021 I had not wanted to think about the traumatic experiences I’d had. But after Higgins’ allegations became a major news story, I didn’t have much choice. The issue was in my face every day. On news websites, on TV and on social media. In conversations with family, friends and colleagues. Strangers I met at parties found out I worked at Parliament House and wanted to talk about it. So I saw Higgins’ story unfold and I listened to all the commentary around it. I watched and I learned and I considered my own options.
What have I learned?
I learned that if I report my experiences to the police, they might not be sympathetic to my version of events. I learned that private communications about my experiences might be leaked.
I learned that if I disclose my experiences to politicians, some might be supportive. Others might choose to use my situation as a political football. I worry that politicians who don’t want to become caught up in a game of political football might be reluctant to help me.
I learned that if I go public in the media, my story will become public property. Journalists and the amateur commentators on social media will all have opinions about what happened and will share them freely, however uninformed they are.
I learned that if I make a legal claim against my workplace, some people in the media and on social media will say that I am a liar who is only out for money.
Across our society, when women report sexual assault, we ask the wrong questions. Why was she there? What was she wearing? Why was she drinking? Was she flirting with him? Why didn’t she scream? Why didn’t she fight? Why didn’t she immediately go to the police? We don’t give enough attention to the right questions: Why was he there? Why was he plying her with alcohol? Why was he trying to get her alone? Why did he touch her like that? Why did he have sex with her without her consent?
When you have been sexually assaulted you question yourself constantly, because you have been raised in a society where the actions of victims are scrutinised far more closely than those of perpetrators. Victims internalise that. You don’t need to be in court being cross-examined to experience it, because you have your own inner cross-examining barrister right there in your head.
Getting that self-questioning voice to shut up takes a lot of therapy and hard work. For me it remains a work in progress. But every disbelieving or victim-blaming comment emboldens that internal voice and feels like a gut punch.
All of us, but particularly journalists and politicians, need to realise that when we make comments about Brittany Higgins we aren’t just talking about Brittany Higgins. Women like me, who have been sexually assaulted in parliamentary workplaces, hear those comments. Women who have been sexually assaulted in other workplaces – or in bedrooms, parks or alleyways – do too.
And what we also hear is this: People won’t believe you. People won’t care what happened to you. If you’re seeking justice, you won’t find it.
The men who rape women are listening too. What message are they taking away?
