The ghost of a woman hangs over this parliament. Several bruising weeks on from that Friday afternoon when the nation learnt of allegations involving a violent historical rape of a 16-year-old girl at a debating tournament, the wounds have still not been sutured. This time will go down in political history as a moment of deep unease, of a government slow to read the room, and of a seismic shift among many of Australia’s women.
When the news broke about the bright star of a debater who’d allegedly been raped in 1988, I wept. For that poor, dead woman. For her blighted life and all the promise it held and for how it ended. Her story brought up so many things many of us women have buried; so many instances of reduction, flinching, cruelty, shame, theft of dignity, trauma. The news, coming hard on the heels of Brittany Higgins’ rape allegation, felt like a watershed moment for change. It felt like our male-centric government and many of its male friends in the media commentariat did not understand the enormity of what has been unleashed here. The rage among women.
It is seamed like an underground river through many of us, ancient and restless, generational. I carry my mother’s rage at her treatment by men, I carry my grandmother’s. This rage is potent and seething. It is focused. Anger changes the world and often for the better. The rage over this situation at the heart of our government is held within a lot of women. Still.
From the depths of my being I am rage. For the promising debater, Kate, who took her life in June last year. For all the women who’ve been sexually invaded and carry within them a post-traumatic stress disorder that burdens them for the length of their lives. For the women who’ve been taught to be silent even before they leave school, I am rage. For the schoolgirls stepping forward in their thousands to reveal rapes and sexual assaults perpetrated by their teenage male peers, I am rage. For all of us who’ve been conditioned to excuse questionable male behaviour. For the patriarchal club that keeps women in their place — a quieter, lesser, subservient place — I am rage. For the betrayal of all the good men out there by the odious and insecure few, I am rage; because rape is about insecurity. Power. Misogyny. Control.
For the problematic issue of representation in our parliament, where we have far too few women representing 50.2 per cent of our population, I am rage. For former Liberal MP Sharman Stone’s allegation that there was a group of Coalition politicians who called themselves the “swinging dicks” and actively thwarted Julie Bishop’s leadership aspirations, I am rage.
For the men in our midst who commit sex crimes yet not only face no consequences for their actions, but rise and endure, I am rage. Imagine seeing your abuser flourish over the years and face no consequences. For the victims told to just “get over it”, I am rage.
When the news broke on that Friday afternoon my nine-year-old put his arms around me in tender compassion. He didn’t know why his mother was crying, he was just sad because mummy was. He feels like the future. A good future. I have great hope in this new generation of men; these fresh green shoots coming up strong. Feel that these new males will be different. That they’ll intrinsically get it and will not tolerate the toxic men among us who’ve traditionally been shielded by the boys’ club and have often, shamefully, risen through its ranks.
Many women will remember these torrid weeks, deep in our bones. We are springloaded with rage. There is power in our anger and we’ve been culturally conditioned to suppress it but this situation is tinder to the flame. We’ve had enough. The ghost of one of us – highly articulate and intelligent but thwarted by a burden she carried throughout her adult life – hangs over all of us. Kate, we will not forget.
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