What the police will tell you
is that most rape complaints
don't involve injury.
Most rapists are known
to the people who
make the complaint
but the people who make
the complaint get nowhere.
I'm not saying that
it's not damaging.
I was raped at 19
and, actually,
because I'm an idiot
I was actually sorrier
for the man who raped me
than I was for myself
because I thought:
'What's happened
to his sexuality?
Why's he turned
into this mad dog?
They'll shoot him,
they'll kill him,
they'll wipe him out.'
I don't know what
happened to him.
– Are you saying it didn't
traumatise you though?
That's ... I guess because that
goes to the heart of what
the question is asking.
– Well, trauma is something
that is dictated really
by the sufferer.
You know, I can't bare
huntsman spiders.
It's not their fault,
it's my fault.
I've decided to be
frightened of them.
Now, it's interesting to me
that women are encouraged,
all the time, to be terribly,
terribly frightened
and nearly always of
the wrong thing.
– OK. Germaine, I'm going
to bring in the other women.
Sisonke, what do
you think?
One of the things I think
is important in that idea
is not that rape doesn't
involve injury because
it clearly involves loads
of injury - mental and
sometimes physical -
but that what Germaine,
I think, asked us to grapple
with is what do we do
when the people
who rape us
are people who
we know and love.
This is a very
complicated question.
One that requires us
to think about it
because the vast majority
of rape happens by people
who know and love us
against us.
What do we do there
in that situation?
I think it's a question
that doesn't yet have
an answer but requires us
to think, not in soundbytes,
not in quick, little, snappy
tweets but, actually, to have
real, measured, thoughtful
and very difficult conversations
with one another.
