Handbook on Sexual Violence (59 page)

1. the self;
   

2. police responses;
   

3. court and trial processes;
   

4. formal and informal supports;
   

5. researchers and academics;
   

6. the media.
   

Each is examined in order to illustrate the processes that ultimately collude to undermine and mute the voices of victims of rape.

Silencing in history

Silencing is a hallmark of oppression, and there is ‘an association between the degree to which a society silences its women and the prevalence of rape’ (Taslitz 1999: 19). Within the context of patriarchy a long history exists of the silencing of women’s voices. Violence against women was an invisible backdrop, accepted and endured as a consequence of what it meant to be born female. In earlier periods of European history, women who were perceived as a threat to male control risked being labelled as spell-cackling witches and were sadistically tortured and/or burned to death (Daly 1979; Garland 2003; Hester 1992). Alternatively, their ability to speak, as well as that of any woman perceived as a gossip or nuisance, could be painfully restricted through application of the torture device known as the scold’s bridle, an effective means of silencing not only them but all those who witnessed or heard about this event and feared for their own safety (Boose 1991; Faith 1993). Even folk

tales and fairy stories underscore the importance of a woman being silent while warning of the perils of speech, with such inferences evident even in modern adaptations. In the Disney movie version of
The Little Mermaid
, for example, the good woman has to give up the power of speech to win her man while the woman with a voice is a witch and a liar. ‘Ariel, the muted beauty, is thus the Good Woman. The Sea Witch, the woman with voice, is the Lying Woman, cold and deadly.’ (Taslitz 1999: 21)

Historically and cross-culturally the overt use of physical and sexual violence has functioned as a key mechanism for perpetuating patriarchal control (Brownmiller 1975; Easteal 1998; Faith 1993; Griffin 1971; Jordan 2004;

Kelly 1988; Stanko 1985; Tong 1984; Walklate 1995). Women experiencing violence often had few legal channels available to them, particularly when victimised by their husbands. As long as the latter used sticks or rods no thicker than their thumbs, their abuse of their wives could be justified as chastisement (Lentz 1999). Thus the physical beating of wives was at times not only condoned but legitimated as a necessary form of admonishment for keeping the lesser sex under control (Dobash and Dobash 1992; Faith 1993; Pollock 1995; Sutch 1973). While the most extreme and horrific forms of wife- beating might result in offenders appearing in court, the latter were portrayed as so barbarous and brutish that the behaviour was driven underground, becoming silenced and unspeakable (Hunt 1992).

The act of rape has been a real and often effective means of asserting control over women, particularly in the context of the power relations within intimate partnerships. As Brownmiller (1975) pointed out, the earliest forms of male/female bonding occurred in the context of one man staking his claim to another through sexually acquiring her body – in the act of raping her, she became his. Over time this practice became sanitised through women’s bodies being exchanged on payment of either a bride price or dowry. What the woman said or wished was of no consequence; since she was a piece of property owned by a man, if she was raped it was her father or her husband who were recognised in law as the rightful victim (Brownmiller 1975). The woman’s voice was nowhere to be heard. Since men were the only legitimate viewers and observers, and the male gaze predominated, the male’s words predominated also.

Denying the truth of women’s words served as a muting device. Most women could not speak of their pain and nor could they name and shame the cause of their suffering. The rape of virgins, however, carried different expectations. In this context the victim was expected to be so upset that she would immediately report it (Burgess 1999), a stipulation dating from the thirteenth century when the authority for Anglo-Saxon times, Henry of Bracton, decreed that the procedure following the rape of a virgin should be as follows:

She must go at once and while the deed is newly done, with the hue and cry, to the neighbouring townships and show the injury done to her to men of good repute, the blood and her clothing stained with blood and her torn garments.

(quoted in Burgess 1999: 9)

The expectation that genuine (and innocent) victims would immediately report the rape extends to the present day with evidence suggesting police officers often interpret delayed reporting as a possible indicator of a false complaint (Brown
et al
. 2007; Jordan 2004; Stewart
et al
. 1996). Such an interpretation ignores the ways women have been taught to mute their voice and remain silent, and also fails to understand the impact of centuries of suspicion surrounding the words of a woman. The impossible bind this places a raped woman in becomes obvious:

She is ordinarily expected to be mute, yet she is expected to and must speak promptly and loudly, and in anguish, if there is a ‘real’ rape . . . She will be judged by the cultural themes of silence and voice, not by the natural psychological reactions to rape or an informed understanding of its causes and circumstances.

(Taslitz 1999: 4)

Men’s voices and actions generally prevailed until progressively challenged during the first and second waves of feminism. Once the ugly underbelly of patriarchy was exposed it was hoped its injustices would be challenged in favour of a human-rights-based approach to social equality. Understandably, anger over the crime of rape was particularly pronounced in early feminist circles.

The feminist challenge

The 1970s was characterised by social and political movements on multiple fronts challenging the status quo and, within the context of the women’s movement in particular, was accompanied by consciousness-raising and increased truth-speaking regarding violence against women and children (Dann 1985; Gavey 2005; Jones 2004; Jordan 2004; Pollock 1995). Many women were galvanised into campaigns resisting men’s violence and promoting self- defence (Bart and O’Brien 1985; Medea and Thompson 1974; Searles and Berger 1987). When police and crime prevention advice suggested females stay off the streets to reduce their risk of being raped, women pointed out the risks within the home, while some, such as Golda Meir, argued instead for curfews on men to keep the streets safe for women (Meyer 1974). Optimism ran high that patriarchy would soon be dead and all gender-based inequalities eradicated. There have been many victories, such that the world now is often viewed as a very different place from those raw and raucous early days of feminist protest and outrage. The social, economic and political position of many women has improved, often masking the marginalisation and exploitation characterising other women’s lives. Increased recognition of human rights has led to greater international condemnation of violence against women, with most nations declaring themselves as signatories to such charters as the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women.

Reflecting such advances, the authors of a book published in 1999 opened it with the following observation:

During the 1980s and 1990s there has been a sea change in the recognition of male violence against women and children, not only in Britain, but in many other parts of the world.

(Gregory and Lees 1999: 1)

This comment reflects the hard work by feminist activists whose efforts to reform the justice system resulted in significant changes being made enabling greater recognition of, and improved responses to, allegations of sexual violence (Donat and D’Emilio 1992; Jones 2004; Kitzinger 2009; Pollock 1995). This is evident legally, for example, in the ways many countries have extended their definitions of rape to recognise the varied forms this can take, no longer limiting this to forced penile–vaginal intercourse. This has been achieved in different ways internationally. In England and Wales, for example, the Sexual Offences Act 2003 broadened the definition of rape to include oral penetration (Temkin and Krah´e 2008; Walklate 2008), while New Zealand legislation earlier sought to resolve the inclusion dilemma by creating an umbrella category of ‘sexual violation’ that included both rape and ‘unlawful sexual connection’, the latter including all orifices and means of penetration (Sullivan 1986).

Also significant in terms of legal reform has been the criminalisation of rape occurring in the context of marriage. This occurred in American states from the late 1970s onwards (although marital rape was not recognised as a crime in all states until 1993 (Ferro
et al
. 2008)), in New Zealand in 1986 (Jordan 2004; Sullivan 1986); and in 1991 in Australia (Heath 1998), as well as England and Wales (Kennedy 1992; Kitzinger 2009). The fact that it is only in the past 20 years or so that spousal immunity to charges of rape was abolished provides a stark reminder of how robust the tentacles of patriarchy are, as well as how much we still need to wrestle with. Today this is still apparent in the relatively few incidents of rape in marriage reported compared with what we now know regarding its prevalence (Bennice and Resick 2003; Ferro
et al
. 2008). For example, 7.7 per cent of a large, randomised national sample of women in the United States had experienced forced vaginal, oral or anal sex perpetrated by a spouse or partner during their lifetime (Tjaden and Thoennes 2000), yet it is widely accepted that the barriers for wives reporting rape are even greater than for women victimised in other contexts, resulting in few such cases ever coming to police attention (Bennice and Resick 2003; Bergen 2006).

Progress has also been made in improving the environments within which victim/survivors of rape are forensically examined. For instance, in the 1980s in New Zealand, it was not unusual for women who had been raped to be medically examined by male doctors in police cells (Young 1983). Today the majority of those who have been raped are examined by specially trained women doctors in a medical setting, with most also able to have a support person present if desired (Jordan 2001). Internationally a range of models have developed aiming to treat victims with respect for their individual rights and dignity, including sexual assault referral centres (SARCs) in the United Kingdom and many European countries and the use of sexual assault nurse

examiners (SANEs) in the US (Lovett
et al
. 2004; Kelly 2005). At the NGO level, feminist groups have pressured for state funding of counselling and support agencies for victims/survivors, and worked hard to provide continuity of services in the face of often meagre or erratic resourcing (Jones 2004).

Overall there have been many significant gains in law, policing, medicine and research. From this perspective we can celebrate progress in challenging the extent of patriarchal control and exposing the realities of violence against women. We know so much more now about rape, and have identified ‘best’ and ‘promising’ practices in relation to how to respond to its occurrence. As well as increased recognition of their needs within the criminal justice and social service sectors, there are also growing numbers of books containing narratives from rape victims/survivors (for example, Brison 2002; Easteal 1994; Jordan 2008; Raine 1998; Sebold 1999). Yet while the successes deserve to be applauded, by no means are they sufficient to suppress the need for ongoing campaigning and consciousness-raising. Four decades of feminism may have improved the services available for many victims/survivors but have made little dent in rape’s occurrence or the attitudes surrounding it. Despite the insights gained and advances made, there are many ways in which rape is still shrouded in silence.

Indicators include a continuing reluctance on the part of victims/survivors to disclose generally or report sexual violence to the police, linked to the pervasiveness of rape myths within society that continue to blame and shame the victims of rape (Bohner
et al
. 2009; Du Mont
et al
. 2003; Myhill and Allen

2002; Temkin and Krah´e

2008). Recent studies of public attitudes reveal a

strongly judgemental stance towards victims if they were wearing sexy clothing or were drunk at the time of the rape (Amnesty International 2005). Similarly, mock juror trials also show many still display a willingness to forgive the rapist while blaming the victim (Finch and Munro 2006; Munro and Kelly 2009). Victims who do report still risk being disbelieved by the police, and continuing high attrition rates result in a minority of complainants receiving validation from the criminal justice system (Kelly
et al
. 2005; Temkin and Krah´e 2008; Triggs
et al
. 2009; Walklate 2008). It is little wonder that many women refrain from speaking or feel silenced when they do.

To speak of silence denotes a passive state of being, a perception that obscures the acts of silencing that produce this state. One of the first arenas in which this occurs is in the contexts of rapists’ efforts to control victims. One way they maintain their position of privilege is by undermining the voice, the very perceptions, of those whom they wish to keep powerless: ‘No, you weren’t raped!’, ‘I could tell you wanted it’, ‘You said no but meant yes.’ When I undertook research with women who had all survived being attacked by the same serial rapist (Jordan 2008), many recounted the impact of the first words he said to them – ‘Shut up!’ Any attempts by them to speak triggered the same response – ‘Shut up!’ The removal of their voice was reinforced by his tying gags over the women’s mouths – he wanted them silent, his ability to do what he came there to do depended on their silence. To him, they were objects with no voice, no humanity.

The rapist is not the only one who stifles victims/survivors’ voices. Our society incorporates a wide range of individuals and institutions that either