How a young rape survivor helped me confront my own story | Emily Olle

It was my first industry end-of-year party. It was a man, much, much older than me. Reporter Emily Olle tells her story of sexual assault - a story too many women will be familiar with.

My first experience with repressed memories came in the form of a Simpsons episode, where Homer gets hypnotised after a prank goes awry and begins comically screaming for days on end.

While I didn’t really know what a repressed memory was, as a child I thought that was very funny and would quote it by randomly screaming around my friends and family – which they, unsurprisingly, did not find particularly funny.

My second came last week, when I was privileged enough to help young rape survivor Tayla Stone share her story.

On a Saturday afternoon, sitting outside a quiet cafe off the main Glenelg strip, Tayla told of how she – with bravery few could understand – helped send the man who sexually assaulted her to prison.

She was just 18 when a prominent Rundle St cafe owner plied her with liquor for four hours, under the guise of teaching her to serve alcohol, before coaxing her to bars after her shift.

He then raped her in his own home before sending her back to her parents’ house in an Uber.

I listened as she recalled staring her rapist in the eyes from the witness stand, finally reclaiming the power he took from her when she was just a teenager.

When I asked how she found the strength to go through such a traumatic experience, she answered simply.

“I couldn’t have kept walking on this Earth if I knew that I didn’t try to protect someone else,” she said.

As I drove home from that cafe, my own memories came screaming back.

It was a work Christmas party, and it was a long time ago. My first in an industry known for bad behaviour.

It was a man, much, much older than me and a pair of wandering hands.

It was a girl who stayed silent, and another colleague who, when the same man grabbed her inappropriately again later that evening, said, “He’s just drunk, I’m sure he won’t do it again”.

Tayla Stone spoke about her experience, in the hopes it would help other sexual assault victims. Picture: Dean Martin

I don’t tell this story in a bid for sympathy, praise or even some sense of delayed justice – far from it. I never reported it. I don’t know if he ever did it to anyone else. To be honest, I’d feel responsible if he did.

I’m telling this story because last week, I sat across from a 20-year-old with wisdom beyond her years, sharing her truth in the hopes of helping others speak out.

Because I have heard victims speak about their experiences in court, only to see the defendant walk free.

Because, according to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, one in four women and one in 12 men will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime.

I tell it because each and every person who shares their story – and those who don’t – carries with them both strength and an impossible burden.

They face a cruel decision: to try to move past it, or to try to find justice.

To relive their worst moment in excruciating detail. To wait hours, days, months and years to face their attacker in court. To be questioned ruthlessly about what they did to encourage it.

There is no right or wrong way to manage a trauma like that. But the strength it takes to come forward – and face the cruel glare of labels, criticism and doubt – is, to me, heroic.

It’s a strength we should admire and one we should celebrate. It is not an obligation, but a choice to try to protect others.

When I sat down to begin writing Tayla’s story – to in some small way honour her incredible courage – one thing she said kept ringing through my head.

“These men want us to stay quiet, but our voice is our power.”

I never did grow out of my love for The Simpsons, nor did I find my bravery at the time.

But I think it’s time I used my voice. And it’s not through strength of my own, but the bravery of others like Tayla.

They really do say there’s a Simpsons quote for everything. This time, it’s “do it for her”.