TW: Discussion of sexual assault
It goes without saying that in the past two weeks, three high-profile matters involving allegations or reports of sexual assault have generated significant media attention in Australia.
Across the coverage of these stories, much of the public conversation has quickly turned to consequences for the boys and men involved or connected to the cases: What will happen to their futures?
Where wrongdoing is established, accountability matters. So does due process. It is for the legal system, not public commentary, to determine criminal responsibility.
But I want us to talk about a different set of consequences. I want to talk about what participation in a police investigation and criminal justice process can ask of the person who makes a report – long after everyone else has moved on to discussing careers, sporting seasons and futures.
Because I have lived those consequences. I was 17 years old when police first contacted me in connection with sexual offence proceedings involving someone I had previously been in a relationship with. I was fresh out of high school, trying to decide what came next. I wanted to take a gap year, work, travel and be a teenager.
Instead, I became part of a police investigation and, eventually, a court process that took years to resolve. About a month after I first heard from the police, I went to the station to make a statement. Over the weeks that followed, I recounted the details of that relationship, including experiences I described as violence and coercive control, in extraordinary detail. I handed over photos, videos and messages – anything I had that might help.
The police officer supporting me told me that what I had described amounted to domestic and sexual violence and helped organise counselling. I was scared, confused and isolated. But I also felt strong. I felt brave for speaking about what had happened and for standing alongside other women who had come forward.
My strength and bravery did not last. I assumed I would be in court that year. It took about two years before I got there, and I was told that was considered relatively quick.
Long before the court process even began, the strength I had felt was replaced by fear, anxiety, constant nausea, confusion, isolation and grief. Many survivors know versions of this experience intimately. There is no neat or clean way to describe what it is like to have one of the most traumatic experiences of your life transformed into statements, evidence, interviews, hearings and legal arguments. There are women across this country required to navigate parts of that system while also continuing with ordinary life. I do not know what they are experiencing, and I do not want to presume that my experience will be theirs.
But I do know what participation in a police investigation and court process asked of me when I was young. For young complainants, that process can sit alongside school, exams, friendships, families, sport, hobbies and all the ordinary complications of growing up.
It can also require learning a vocabulary most teenagers never expect to encounter: complainant. Witness. Evidence. Defence. Prosecution. Jury. Trial.
Whatever the eventual outcome of a proceeding, participation in the legal process can itself become a significant part of a young person’s life. More generally, the process of making and participating in a police report can itself be demanding.
It can involve sitting in a police station recounting an extraordinarily difficult experience to people you have never met. It can involve answering detailed questions, handing over private information and waiting without knowing what will happen next.
One protection I had was that my case was not national news.There was not rolling media coverage dissecting what the proceedings might mean for someone’s sporting career, schooling or professional future. I did not have to watch strangers debate the broader significance of the case while I was still trying to understand what I was going through.
And that is what has struck me about much of the conversation over the past two weeks. We have spent much less time talking about another question: what does involvement in a police investigation or criminal proceeding ask of the person who made the report?
What support is available to complainants? How do we make sure people navigating these processes feel safe and supported? How do we talk about their experiences without prejudging the outcome of a criminal case?
We can hold two things at once. We can respect the presumption of innocence and recognise that allegations must be tested through the legal process. We can be precise about the difference between an allegation and a proven fact. And we can acknowledge that participation in the aftermath of reported sexual violence can itself have profound consequences for the person who comes forward.
For survivors of sexual violence, those consequences can include fear, grief, difficulty trusting people, problems sleeping or eating, hypervigilance, anger, withdrawal, panic attacks, anxiety, depression, difficulties with intimacy and triggers that can appear years after everyone else has stopped talking about what happened.
For some, those effects last for years. Some will carry parts of what happened for the rest of their lives. At The Survivor Hub, we see what happens after the headlines disappear. In our MeetUps – free peer-support groups for survivors – we hear from people who are still processing what happened to them years later.
We see the ways sexual violence can continue to affect a person’s relationships, sense of safety, confidence and everyday life long after a criminal proceeding ends. The institutions connected to stories like these also have an opportunity to reflect. That does not require determining guilt or innocence, and it should never involve interfering with an ongoing investigation or criminal proceeding.
Schools, sporting organisations and other institutions can continually ask themselves broader questions. Are we doing enough to prevent sexual and gender-based violence? Do we challenge misogyny, entitlement and harmful behaviour when we encounter it? Are young people being taught not simply the legal definition of consent, but what respect looks like?
Do people who report harm know where to find support? Those are questions every institution should be asking, regardless of the outcome of any particular criminal matter. Institutions can strengthen prevention, education and support for people who report sexual violence without expressing a view about the guilt or innocence of anyone involved in a particular case.
And to any woman or girl going through a police or legal process right now: you do not owe the public your story, your identity or your bravery. Your experience will be your own, and no one else gets to tell you how you should feel about it.
But if the process feels frightening or lonely, there are people who understand something of what it is like to sit in a police station, wait for court dates, learn the language of the legal system and wonder how you are ever going to get to the other side.
I was one of them.
I did get to the other side. It was not easy. Parts of it stayed with me long after the legal process ended. But I got through it. And if you ever want to connect with people who understand what navigating that process can feel like, we are here.
If this article has raised issues for you, support is available. In Australia, you can contact 1800RESPECT, the national domestic, family and sexual violence counselling, information and support service, 24 hours a day on 1800 737 732, by text on 0458 737 732, or via online chat at 1800RESPECT.