When Duffy opened up about her rape ordeal last month and Harvey Weinstein was convicted of sexual assault weeks earlier, thanks to his victims’ testimony, I, like millions of others, took to social media to salute the bravery of those who had spoken out, but feelings of hypocrisy rumbled beneath the surface.
I eagerly praised women I’ve never met for refusing to remain silent, yet did little when, five years ago, my sister confided she’d been a victim of sexual abuse when she was ten.
The perpetrator was a boy in her primary school class – not only had I failed to hear her story, but I let her admission chip away at the intimacy we’d shared as sisters for decades.
Despite growing up in an emotionally repressed family, she was my closest confidante. No subject was taboo – losing my virginity, my first smear test or getting fired from a job I loved.
But, at the same time, I found her attitude towards sex off kilter. She joked openly about seemingly endless sexual encounters, but seemed to hold the core of herself back.
I now wonder if secrecy had been coded into her psychology. There was one thing she could never tell.
On her 32nd birthday, things changed. She insisted we visit a strip club and spent much of the night taking cocaine. There was something different –hauntingly fragile – about her that evening.
After the club, we went back my flat, then at 3am, my phone beeped – a friend from our childhood had connected with me on LinkedIn and wanted help with networking. Pretty cheeky, I thought. I hadn’t seen him since I was a kid.
I told my sister and she burst into tears. She was about to tell me something she’d never told anyone before – he’d sexually abused her at school when they were both children.
Following her admission, she spewed vomit over my cream carpets and I put her to bed. When I woke up, she’d left and we never spoke of it properly again.
I knew she regretted telling me and I was too much of a coward to probe further.
Questions bombarded my mind. What exactly had he done? Is a pre-teen boy capable of sex? I didn’t know then and still don’t. Did he understand the implications of his actions? Had something terrible happened in his own childhood? Had he gone on to assault other women?
I knew she would never contact the police in fear of appearing vulnerable.
I loved my sister as much as ever, but an unfamiliar sense of estrangement lurked between us. After that night, we no longer stayed at each other’s houses and eventually our interactions dwindled to small talk at family weddings.
A part of me wondered the same thing: were there signs my parents ought to have seen?
The Christmas after her revelation, she bought me a perfume gift set from Boots. She hadn’t signed the tag. Perhaps she had nothing to say to me, but these little things said everything about the silence between us.
To an outsider, the shift would have been imperceptible, but it was there. I suspect she worried I’d tell my mother who would have questioned whether she had let my sister down. A part of me wondered the same thing: were there signs my parents ought to have seen?
But it wasn’t my secret to tell.
I became increasingly curious about her abuser. Ten minutes of Facebook stalking unearthed photos of him: now married, with the ruddy face of a drinker clutching his step-kids. Was he holding them a bit too tight?
Despite the tension, I hear secondhand reports of her dating life through our family WhatsApp group. A recent post involved her going back to the flat of a Tinder date. He whipped out a sex toy and threatened to lock the door if she tried to leave. Once safe, she found the incident hilarious. I wish she’d called the police.
Whenever she’s in a bar, she counts the number of men she calculates want to have sex with her. These anecdotes make me terrified for her.
A few months ago, I again had the chance to discuss her experience. In a rare moment of candour, she confided she’d started seeing a therapist. Perhaps she wanted to revisit the subject, but all I could muster was: ‘Do you talk about, er… everything?’ She responded with: ‘Yup.’ I felt I’d let her down again, as I didn’t have the courage to ask if she would like to talk more about it with me.
I’m not sure if our relationship will ever recover. I worry the silence, which has now lasted over seven years, has festered too long.
All I can do is hope other victims confide in someone more deserving. I admire their strength and am ashamed I didn’t deserve my sister’s trust.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing claie.wilson@metro.co.uk
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Support
You can find information, support and advice by visiting Rape Crisis or contacting their confidential helpline on 0808 802 999.
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source https://metro.co.uk/2020/04/05/sister-told-sexually-abused-ruined-relationship-12365988/?ITO=squid
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