Abuse: EMPOWERMENT OF WOMEN AND GIRLS: HOW STORY HELP CON...

Abuse: EMPOWERMENT OF WOMEN AND GIRLS: HOW STORY HELP CON...: Mona Ibrahim Ali Mona Ibrahim Ali is a Professor in the English Department at Cairo University. She obtained both her Masters and PhD...

Abuse: Getting to the root of power inequalities: collect...

Abuse: Getting to the root of power inequalities: collect...: Getting to the root of power inequalities: collective action to address gender-based violence Our contexts, histories and re...

Abuse: Getting to the root of power inequalities: collect...

Abuse: Getting to the root of power inequalities: collect...: Getting to the root of power inequalities: collective action to address gender-based violence Our contexts, histories and re...

Abuse: Involving men and boys in action on sexual and gen...

Abuse: Involving men and boys in action on sexual and gen...: Involving men and boys in action on sexual and gender-based violence… effectively Ntokozo Yingwana explores lessons on the importance of ...

EMPOWERMENT OF WOMEN AND GIRLS: HOW STORY HELP CONFRONT VIOLENCE

Mona Ibrahim Ali

Mona Ibrahim Ali is a Professor in the English Department at Cairo University. She obtained both her Masters and PhD degrees in American literature. She has publications on translation: theory and practice, travel literature, women’s writing and post-colonial literatures. She is the Director of the Centre for Humanities and Interdisciplinary Studies, Cairo University, and is a member of the Board of Trustees of the New Woman Foundation. She is the editor-in-chief of Tiba, the theoretical magazine of the New Woman Foundation. She is also a writer, storyteller and a member of the ‘I am the Story (Ana el-Hekkayya)’ storytelling group.

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'I Am the Story'

I agree with Joanna that we need to ‘challenge things which may seem very normal and accepted’ and that we need to change attitudes and values that perceive violence as being just the ‘norm’. In using storytelling we can create new narratives that offer both women and men models beyond what they view as ‘normal’, and open up alternative ways of being.

Through its different activities, 'I Am the Story' presents aninteractive model of empowerment and combating violence against girls and women. Training participants of both sexes to read the cultural heritage of the Egyptian society (whether it's oral or written) from a critical gender-sensitive perspective helps them realise the roots of the problem of violence against women. These roots are usually represented within widespread cultural materials in the form of stereotyping the roles of men and women in the society, putting women at a lower status than men and treating them in this cultural heritage as sex objects or simply objects, which renders violence against girls and women acceptable and sometimes even encouraged.

Unlike other conceptions of empowerment, 'I Am the Story' also allows the space for empowering discourses to be locally developed and not imposed by external players. Conceptualizing empowerment through creative materials is a special focus for 'I Am the Story', as it works on empowering women and girls through a gender-sensitive and artistic production of knowledge. Training participants to use art, represented by storytelling, to express themselves helps to give voice to the participants and to boost their self esteem and their ability to communicate their feelings and experiences. The following story is one example of the stories produced in our storytelling workshops:

A Cloth Doll

By Soha Raafat

When Fatma’s father entered the country house at sunset, Fatma’s mother was sitting on the wooden bench, and still crying. The father’s sympathetic yet angry gaze had become so familiar to the mother. The father said in a compassionate voice: 'You have been crying for over a week, woman. Aren’t you going to stop it? Do I have to repeat what I have been saying over and over?'

Fatma’s mother looked at him while sniffing and said: 'This is not fair… You are a pious man and you have visited the Ka’ba in Mecca. You are aware that Fatma is our only daughter… I cannot believe that you could be so cruel to her.'

The father lost his temper this time and shouted: 'These have always been our traditions and our legacy from our ancestors. Do you want our people to look down on me? I am Fatma’s father and I know what is best for her or do you want her to stay with you for the rest of her life in this house? If I listen to you, no man in this country would ever be interested in her. Come on, go and prepare dinner for me. I want to pray, eat my dinner and sleep immediately. Stop nagging me.'

When Fatma’s mother went to the kitchen, Fatma stood behind the door of her room watching her father praying. She was trying to understand anything about the catastrophe about to happen. She did not hear anything except the voice of her father asking God for forgiveness. When she got tired, she went inside her room, hugged her cloth doll and started talking and asking the doll questions about her fears until she fell asleep in a small corner of the bed and her little back was stuck to the cold stone wall.

The following day, early in the morning, Fatma saw her mother heating the water in order to bathe her. After the bath, the mother combed Fatma’s hair, pulled and interweaved it into two braids that remained hung up in the air as they were strongly stretched from the roots. 'Aiy ! Aiy ! Ahhhhhhhhh … My hair, mom, please unwind my braids a little mom, please mom let go…' But Fatma’s mother was speechless, her eyes were staring nowhere.

Suddenly, Fatma’s mother heard someone knocking on the door. She was stunned and ran to open the door quickly. The fat woman 'Om Badawy' stepped inside the house and said in her buzzing voice: 'How are you Om Fatma? Where is our little bride?' When she saw Fatma standing in the corner trembling of fear and the winter cold after the hot bath, she laughed and her gold tooth shone in the narrow sun beam that passed through the window of the big dim hall. She lifted and opened her grey stained cloth bag and brought out a small, sharp knife and a bag of cotton and a small bottle filled with red water, the colour of blood!! And then she laughed said to Fatma’s mother: 'Come on Haja Adeela, hold the little bride and tighten your grip on her. Don’t be afraid… I am very skillful and all children have a very short memory. Hope I come again soon to your place on her wedding day, if God wills.'

Fatma stared at the sharp blade in the hand of Om Badawy and hugged her cloth doll strongly. The shiver of fear ran through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and her tight braids hung higher up in the air. Fatma tried to escape, but, like what happens in nightmares, her legs were heavy and would not move.

When her mother caught her clothes, Fatma resisted with all her being, kicked strongly in the air with both legs and arms over and over until she got extremely tired and then fainted while holding her cloth doll firmly. Her mother and Om Badawy carried her unconscious to bed.

Fatma’s loud scream brought her back to consciousness and shook her weak body like an earthquake shaking the earth. The colour of red blood was spread on her galabia (dress) and marked the face of her cloth doll. The following day, in spite of her pain, Fatma rose up from bed and put her doll inside her wardrobe… She did not utter a single word, as if nothing had happened.

Fatma’s mother and father were ready for the aftermath… They waited for Fatma to speak about the pain in order to cheer her up or bring her some sweets or a molasses lollipop from the grocery shop. But, Fatma did not say anything and did not cry….. Weird!! Maybe Om Badawy was right when she said that 'Children have a short memory!'

One week later, Fatma went to school and when she heard Aisha telling the girls about Om Badawy during the break, Fatma left the girls and walked away. As soon as she reached home, she walked directly to the wardrobe, had a look at her cloth doll with the stain of blood on its face, kissed the bleeding scar and locked the doll inside the wardrobe again.

Many years later, a year before Fatma was due to complete her high school education, a suitor came to her father to ask for Fatma’s hand. He was the type of suitor that everybody in the country admired, a pious and wealthy man. Fatma heard her father saying to her mother: 'Why do we have to wait for Fatma to finish school? I am Fatma’s father and I know what is best for her or do you want her to stay with you for the rest of her life. If I listen to you, no man in this country would ever be interested in her. Come on, go and prepare dinner for me. I want to pray, eat my dinner and sleep immediately. Stop nagging me.'

Fatma ran to the wardrobe, brought out her doll with the blood mark on its face, looking as if it was the fresh blood of a new bleeding scar. Fatma stood opposite her father and said with a steady challenging voice: 'Dad… there is no bride to be in this house. I am not going to get married now.' And before the father opened his mouth to speak, Fatma threw the cloth doll with the fresh blood mark in his lap and went inside her room, leaving the father in his complete bewilderment.

What happened before would never happen again to Fatma. Now, she knows quite well what she could do if anybody tries to hold her back once more.

Getting to the root of power inequalities: collective action to address gender-based violence

Our contexts, histories and relationships are a part of who we are, how we act and how we make life choices. These are complex realities that we interact with on a daily basis, learn from and are shaped by over time. In turn, we experience opportunities, power, discrimination and oppression differently according to the multiple identities that make up who we are. Sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) cannot therefore be seen to exist in isolation from this complex web of structural discrimination and inequalities of identity – it is tangled within other forms of power, privilege and social exclusion which are deeply embedded in societal structures and norms.

As we near the end of the 16 days of activism against sexual and gender-based violence and we look ahead towards global commitments and continued activism to address the issue in private and public life (in all its forms), understanding context and how gendered power differences intersect with inequalities and privileges in relation to race, ethnicity, class, (dis)ability, sexuality, age and citizenship status is critical

Recent research undertaken by the Institute of Development Studies (IDS) with civil society organisations and social movements in the global south has shown that an analysis of the root causes of sexual and gendered violence can provide direction for mobilisation, political action and accountability. Thus by analysing the intersections of inequality, exclusion, privilege and power men and women are coming together in gender justice movements to: 

• Politicise action to address SGBV; 
• Make visible the transformation of the issue from a private to a public concern; 
• Make a shift towards addressing the root causes of the issue; 
• Challenge problematic gender roles and expectations amongst both men and women;
• Highlight that gender and other social justice issues must be understood within specific cultural and historical contexts and as having multiple dimensions – social, economic and political.

In doing so work with men in collective action for gender equality has been critically engaged and the possibilities of transformative, inclusive approaches explored. The research found that men are working to analyse the intersecting inequalities and vulnerabilities experienced by different men and boys (e.g. social class, ethnicity or sexuality) which is catalysing a personal and political connection to how and why gendered violence can be prevented and addressed. This rejection of patriarchal privilege has, in India, South Africa, Kenya and Egypt for example, enabled solidarity between women, men and persons of non-conforming gender identities in a shared struggle towards social justice for women, men, girls and boys and to demand accountability in the response to SGBV.

Activist groups working in conflict-affected contexts and with refugees, including in Sierra Leone and Uganda, are also using an analysis of complex vulnerabilities to provide a critique of a narrow understanding of ‘victim/perpetrator’. Men are usually cast as perpetrators and women as victims. Where this binary is upheld in laws and policies victimhood is being simplified as feminine and lacking agency. The implication is that this compromises responses with female as well as male victims and does not recognise that victims of violence can also be survivors, and activists or agents of change.

This research has also made visible how discriminations play out in the political positions of different groups, highlighting the role of public institutions, like the police and healthcare workers, in perpetuating and challenging multiple discriminations. In Kenya and South Africa sexual minorities and sex workers have faced institutional discrimination; with survivors being met with hostility and humiliation from police officers which is deeply challenging for the way that gender equality laws and policies become implemented.

We are living in time where levels of gendered violence are still as high as 35 per cent globally for intimate partner violence and non-partner sexual violence. The opportunities for change, made available by global frameworks such as the Sustainable Development Goals, present a chance to reinvigorate national laws and policies, action plans and implementation agendas are therefore critical. However, alongside goals and targets on gender inequality, violence against women and girls, institutional discrimination, and inequalities within and between countries must come explicit engagement with those movements driving change on the ground in order to ensure sustainable strategies that transform inequalities and tackle the roots of gendered violence.

It is through a commitment to and understanding of more inclusive strategies to end sexual and gendered-violence that a more nuanced and effective space for addressing SGBV can be created, insights from this global research study therefore suggest that actors from local to global levels should:

• Reframe gender as social relations and understand better how gender power differences intersect with inequalities and privileges within specific contexts to fuel and reinforce sexual and gender violence.
• Build an understanding SGBV grounded in the experiences of those who are most marginalised and living with violence, solutions must be driven from the bottom up in order to leave no-one behind and ensure contextual relevance.
• Facilitate collective action across movements which can provide a platform to unpack the complex issues around intersecting inequalities and hold those with power and privilege accountable for addressing SGBV; importantly addressing institutional discrimination.
• Take forward approaches that support men and women to explore their personal connection with political action and work together as agents of change within an accountable relationship that engages men for social and gender justice.

Involving men and boys in action on sexual and gender-based violence… effectively

Involving men and boys in action on sexual and gender-based violence… effectively

Ntokozo Yingwana explores lessons on the importance of a collective strategy for impact, inspired by a global learning workshop

The debate has long since moved from whether women’s movements should be engaging men and boys in combating sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV), to rather how best to engage them in prevention and interventions. A recent learning workshop on Collective Action on SGBV Involving Men held at the Institute of Development Studies (IDS) sought to explore the factors and dynamics involved in engaging men and boys in SGBV initiatives around the world.

The workshop, which took place from 16-19 February 2015, brought together researchers and practitioners from six countries (Egypt, Kenya, India, Sierra Leone, South Africa and Uganda). They are all collaborating partners in a four-year research project on engaging men and boys, collective action and (re)addressing SGBV. With just under a year of the project left, the partners used the workshop to reflect and exchange learning with each other.

The lessons shared ranged from the power of storytelling as a research and advocacy tool, to the importance of knowledge sharing within collective action when dealing with political push-backs. Indeed, building networks and alliances with other social justice movements was stressed as key to sustainability.

The workshop also explored tensions in power relations in the knowledge creation/exchange process, especially when there is collaboration between organisations and institutions based in the global North and global South. The collation of research data in the global South, while the analysis and publication of reports takes place in the global North was also problematised. So even though the workshop was, as described by one partner, ‘a great space in discussing the politics of what we’re doing’, it was clear that there was a concern over whose knowledge was considered as valid or legitimate .

Suggestions were made for the deconstruction of hegemonic knowledge creation processes through translations of languages and addressing the digital divide. In addition, it was noted that a multi-nodal approach to funding is needed in order to maintain independence. Ideas were shared on ‘how collective organising can sustain itself and have a deeper analysis, while not having to relay so much on outsiders’ (partner at SGBV workshop).

It was agreed, following a point raised by another partner, that the focus should not be on the ‘idea of what it means to be this or that type of feminist, at the detriment of collective organising’. Instead a more human rights perspective was needed. However, the importance of keeping strong feminist relations and constantly (re)addressing power dynamics was still emphasised.

Specifically it was felt that ‘by removing ourselves from these gender identities we can begin to have a conversation’ (partner at SGBV workshop). In doing so we could avoid the essentialism that comes with gender binaries of perpetrator (man) versus victim (woman). There is also a need for programmes that emasculate men from patriarchal privilege, while raising their consciousness to gender and broader social justice.

This entails recognising men’s own expectations, what they value as individuals and helping them deal with the structural conflict of being ‘attached to masculinities and their benefits’ (partner at SGBV workshop). The wide spectrum of masculinities in each context means there is a range of entry points and forms of engagements appropriate for different men and boys. Once that initial contact has been made a safe and nurturing environment needs to be created to sustain their engagement.

An exercise to map out connections between different forms of SGBV across ecological levels revealed that structural violence is the thread that links the different levels to each other. With that said, concerns were raised about the promotion of a one-size-fits-all set of good practices that can supposedly be applied for working with all men and boys in a decontextualised and de-politicised manner. An integral lesson here seemed to be the importance of understanding each specific context in order to carefully develop evidence and arguments that inform appropriate SGBV interventions.

As one of the Research Assistants observing and documenting this workshop, what stood out for me the most was the constant negotiation (and renegotiation) of power dynamics. The partners collectively held the space, offering their insights while also challenging each other. Even though this at times led to tensions which were carefully talked through, no one ever lost sight of the overarching goal of arriving at strategies that effectively engage men and boys in combating SGBV. Perhaps that is the main learning; no matter how diverse our contexts or personal and political motivations are, if we intend to be impactful in combating SGBV then we need to strategise collectively.

A rape victim's story: Six months of assaults, five years in court

At the age of 14 Amanda* endured six months of sexual assaults by a family friend. Five years later she decided to report the crime. After years of court appearances, cross-examinations and extreme pain, does she feel she got justice?

 

By 

Sylvia Varnham O'Regan

57Note: This article contains content that may be confronting for some people. Readers seeking support can contact the Sexual Assault & Domestic Violence National Help Line​ on 1800 737 732 or Lifeline on 13 11 14

She was alone in the room with a telephone in front of her. It had been more than five years since she had last spoken to the man but the memories of what he did to her had stayed close by. Now in her early twenties, she had been asked to call him and get him to acknowledge everything. The police would record the conversation and use it against him in court.

"It wasn't just a general conversation," Amanda* says, speaking down the line from her home in Victoria. "You can't just say, 'Why did you do it?' That could mean anything. You have to be point-blank specific with everything that you are talking about."

Detailing a series of terrifying sexual assaults one by one, she asked him: Why?

His response was unexpected. "I was absolutely shocked that he would even talk to me after everything that he'd done," she says. "I was shocked that he admitted to it.

"He told me that he still loved me and would leave his wife and kids for me."

The recorded conversation would be used as evidence against the man in a case that took more than five years to get through the courts.

"If I knew then how long it would take and the stress it would have on me, my family and my friends, I wouldn't have done it," Amanda says now of the court process. "Not a chance."

Trust

Amanda's family had known and trusted the man who went on to abuse their daughter, and had welcomed him into their lives. For privacy reasons, Amanda doesn't want details published about how they were connected but says he was a respected figure in her community.

The shocking sexual assaults went on for six months. They ended when the man was found to have acted inappropriately in another incident and lost his job. Amanda's parents were put off by his behaviour and cut the family's contact with him.

"I was absolutely shocked that he would even talk to me after everything that he'd done. I was shocked that he admitted to it."

At the time she was abused, Amanda was at an age when other teenagers were starting to meet boys and get into relationships. This made that part of Amanda's life even more confusing and difficult to navigate.

"It's very hard to separate being assaulted and having a boyfriend," she says. "Your boyfriend buys you gifts but so does the perpetrator. The perpetrator will treat you nicely at some stage but so will your boyfriend. It's very hard to distinguish the difference . It took me a very long time to learn and was a huge issue for me. "

Amanda says that throughout the abuse the man manipulated her into thinking he was devoted to her - despite having a long-term girlfriend who is now his wife - and this isolated her further.

"It's very hard when you’ve got somebody showing you so much attention and doing so much for you and telling you that you're the best thing in their life," she says. "They make you question yourself. I knew it was wrong, I knew he was a creep, but he's like, 'I'm the best thing that you're ever going to have' and you go, 'Oh well, are you?' I'm 14. I don’t know anything different."

In a victim-impact statement that she read in court years later, Amanda described the terrible toll the abuse had on her.

"At the age of 14, I couldn't eat, I was having panic attacks, I couldn't study, I couldn't sleep. And when I did sleep I had nightmares. I was putting blankets over my windows to avoid anyone being able to see in. Every day I had to drag myself out of bed, and then there were days I just couldn't."

She told no one about the abuse other than one school friend, who would later testify in court, and continued to stay silent long after it ended.

But at the age of 20, Amanda finally told her sister.

"She was very upset," Amanda says. "Mum said to her, 'What’s wrong?' and she said, 'I can’t tell you, I can't tell you, Amanda made me promise'."

It wasn't long before her parents found out. "They were absolutely devastated and blamed themselves," she says.

Court

Soon afterwards, Amanda reported the assaults to the police and they began to build a case against the perpetrator.

They warned Amanda that she would have very little chance of getting a conviction − rape cases have low rates of conviction in Australia − but she pressed ahead anyway.

Partway into the investigation, the police told Amanda they didn't have enough evidence to prove the crimes. They asked her to call the perpetrator and have him admit the assaults so they could record the call and use it as a confession. By this time she was 21. "I said, 'Holy hell, you've got to be joking',” she recalls. The way she saw it there were two options: "To either give up and never know if I could have made a difference and could have pinned him for all the trauma he put me through, or give it my all and have a crack and see if I can get some evidence.

"Mum said to her, 'What’s wrong?' and she said, 'I can’t tell you, I can't tell you, Amanda made me promise'."

"I decided to do it because I thought I'd always wonder." 

It was more than a year before the case was finally heard, first in the Magistrates Court  which had to decide whether there was enough evidence for charges to be laid – and then the County Court.

In the Magistrates Court she was subjected to hours of punishing cross-examination. "I was on the stand for six hours on the first day and it was just horrific," she says. 

"They wanted to know what I was wearing on the day, what footwear I had on, what he was wearing and what the weather was like."

She says she felt like the system was working against her and couldn't believe the way defence lawyers treated her in the witness box.

"They questioned my sexuality, they told me I was a drug addict, they told me I was an alcoholic at 14," she says.

"It’s almost like torture what they put you through on that stand."

"I felt like saying, 'If your daughter were assaulted, what would you be doing? Would you be talking to them like this?'”

In the Magistrates Court Amanda gave her testimony via video link, but in the County Court she read out her victim impact statement with the perpetrator sitting in the room.

"He had his family there: his wife, his mother, his father, his brother," she says. "I couldn't look up from my statement because I was so rattled.

"I looked at him and he was just looking at the ground. I was infuriated. I thought, 'You've done this, not me. We're in this scenario because of the crimes you’ve committed so you could at least look at me when I’m speaking to you.’

Reading the statement in court, she told the man: "It has taken me years to overcome the affects as a result of the crime you committed. I have not been able to have a relationship, as I don't feel comfortable trusting men. I am even suspicious of receiving gifts, as I fear the ulterior motive," she said.

"It has traumatised my family, because they feel they failed to protect their little girl."

"When everyone else was out partying, I was having panic attacks and too terrified to go outside. I was seeing my sexual assault counsellor several times a week, just to cope. Filling the bin with tissues because I couldn’t control my tears. I had to learn basic techniques: I had to learn how to sleep, how to study, how to have relationships - all the other things people take for granted. I was filled with anger, confusion and fear. 

"As a result of the crime you have committed I felt repulsive, disgusting, embarrassed, humiliated, ashamed and I loathed my own body."

When she reached the last line, she stood up and looked directly at him. "This might be a victim impact statement, but I am not a victim, I am a survivor."

'Victim'

As the court process stretched into years, Amanda worked hard to get on with her life, undergoing counselling and studying for a career in healthcare. It wasn't easy. "Every time a significant event came up, the cops would call," she says.

But it wasn't just the time delays that made her angry, it was the court process itself, which she says is fixed on the idea of sexual assault survivors as "victims". 

"I was told, 'You have to cry because the jury won’t believe you if you don't,’" she says. "It infuriates me that you have to be a pathetic crying mess 10 or 11 years later.

"I worked so hard to make sure I could get through every day without this having a detrimental impact on my life, only to be told, 'Go straight back there. Go back to that place and play the innocent victim card.’”

Sentence

Six years after she reported the assaults, the perpetrator asked to make a deal and pleaded guilty to five of the 17 charges against him. He agreed to serve 10 months in jail. He had assaulted her for six.

Amanda's lawyers were overjoyed, telling her they had expected him to get less, but she was stunned. "I said, 'Is that it? Is that it? After all of this, after everything I've done, after the voice recording, this is what we're down to?'"

Amanda later pursued a case against the man in a civil court and again he pleaded guilty at the last minute. Amanda was awarded $40,000 in damages. She says her legal fees came to almost $20,000.

"I was told, 'You have to cry because the jury won’t believe you if you don't'."

She takes solace in knowing her rapist will be on the sex offenders' registry for life. "I felt that I had done my civil duty in that he will never work with children again." But she is adamant that the system needs a complete overhaul.

"The current process favours the accused," she says. "The accused person doesn’t have to get up on the stand and yet the victim has to be cross examined at extreme length while the accused sits back and pays their lawyer to try and destroy the victim's credibility."

She says there needs to be separate courts for sexual assault cases to bring down "horrific" wait times.

"People don't report [rape] because they hear about how awful court is and how long you have to wait to go to court. You can't live your life with it in the back of your mind."

And she says that minimal sentences like the one in her case nowhere near match the trauma experienced by victims. "I don’t think jail has the crippling effect on the perpetrators that sexual assault has on its victims," she says.

"At the moment it’s a legal system, it's not a justice system.

"You don’t get justice in court."

WHY THE RECENTLY FILED CHILD RAPE CASE AGAINST DONALD TRUMP SHOULDN’T BE IGNORED

Did you know that child abuse, rape, and pedophilia are some of the biggest problems that plague the financial elite? There are some very powerful people engaged in what seems to be ritualistic child abuse — whether it be against people in Hollywood, the military, intelligence agencies, or politics, year after year countless lawsuits are filed. Two examples we’ve written about in the recent past involved Hollywood child superstars Elijah Wood and Corey Feldman, who are just two of many stars to speak out against Hollywood pedophilia.

There are countless examples of stars and other high profile figures being accused of sexual crimes, which is why it comes as no surprise to many that Donald Trump has recently come under fire. Thefederal lawsuit has been filed by an anonymous “Jane Doe,” who is accusing him of raping her in 1994 when she was thirteen years old.

This is not to say he is guilty, he has never been found gww, should have been the one who took my virginity, not Defendant Trump . . .

Another statement, made by the also anonymous Tiffany Doe, who was Mr. Epstein’s “party planner” from 1991-2000, is equally as shocking:

Defendant Trump stated that I shouldn’t ever say anything if I didn’t want to disappear like Maria, a 12-year-old female that was forced to be involved in the third incident with Defendant Trump and that I had not seen since that third incident, and that he was capable of having my whole family killed.

She claims that her job was to lure attractive children into attending these parties. She also says she “witnessed the plaintiff being forced to perform various sexual acts with Donald J. Trump and Mr. Epstein. Both Mr. Trump and Mr. Epstein were advised that she was 13 years old.” 

Mer Epstein’s sexual crimes are well documented, as is Mr. Trump’s relationship with him, which makes this so interesting. Mr. Trump told a reporter a few years ago: “I’ve known Jeff for 15 years. Terrific guy. He’s a lot of fun to be with. It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side. No doubt about it, Jeffrey enjoys his social life.”

It’s also not the first time that Trump has been accused of a sexual crime. In 1989, Donald Trump’s first wife, Ivanna, accused him of attacking her, ripping out her hair, and forcibly penetrating her without consent.

In 1997, a then 34 year old business acquaintance, Jill Harth, filed a lawsuit for multiple instances of attempted rape, claiming that Trump forced her into a bedroom where he kissed, fondled, and restrained her from leaving against her will.

The list of accusations goes on and on, but in all cases Trump has always denied the allegations. And as is so often the case, money seems able to settle any dispute.

According to Lisa Bloom:

Virtually every settlement of a case involving a high profile person paying money to a former spouse – or anyone – requires the person receiving the money to agree in writing to ironclad nondisparagement and confidentiality. In plain English: you promise to be quiet and not say anything bad about the party paying you money. This has been the case in hundreds of settlement agreements I have worked on over the years. Ms. Trump was almost certainly contractually prohibited after she signed from saying anything negative about Mr. Trump. And it is also common to attempt to “cure” prior negative statements with new agreed-to language – like, I didn’t mean it literally. (You didn’t mean forcible penetration literally?)

The main reason I wanted to bring attention to this case is to show that these are not isolated incidents. The reality is, ritualistic pedophile rings exist, and they are organized and run by a small group of elite and powerful people.

Below is a video of Ted Gunderson and a woman by the name of  Brice Taylor. Before his passing he was an FBI special agent, holding the head position at multiple offices throughout the United States, in charge of hundreds of people and FBI personnel.

The information in the video below is intense, but if you are looking for ‘proof’ or more information on this type of thing, it’s a good place to start to see just how much of a problem it is, and how little mainstream media covers it.

Ted was outspoken about elite pedophile rings among powerful people, ranging from Hollywood all the way to the CIA…

Report on sexual exploitation

A report has lifted the lid on the sexual exploitation of at least 1,400 children in Rotherham between 1997 and 2013, along with "blatant" collective failures to deal with the issue.

One victim, who had been groomed from the age of 12 and was raped for the first time when she was 13, told BBC Radio 4's Today programme her harrowing story.

She says she was raped "once a week, every week" until she was 15, that police "lost" clothing she had given to them as evidence and that she had feared for her family's safety.

"Emma" [not her real name], now aged 24, says she was 12 when she was first approached by a group of young men in an arcade in Rotherham. The boys, who she says were of "school age", began talking to her and struck up a friendship with her.

'Soft drugs'

What she did not realise at the time was that she was being groomed for sexual abuse, she says.

The grooming went on for about a year, during which time she began going to Rotherham town centre where she was introduced to "grown men".

"They started introducing alcohol and soft drugs to me and then, when I was 13, I was sexually exploited by them," she says.

"Up until this point they had never tried to touch me, they had not made me ever feel uncomfortable or ever feel unsafe or that they could harm me.

"I trusted them, they were my friends as I saw it, until one night my main perpetrator raped me, quite brutally as well, in front of a number of people.

"From then on I would get raped once a week, every week."

'Different men'

She says her abusers began to force her to have sex with "whoever wanted to come and have sex with me".

Speaking to BBC Panorama, she tells of one incident when she was taken to a flat, locked inside a bedroom and repeatedly raped by different men.

"I just had to sit and wait until they sent man after man in and whatever they wanted, I had to give them," she says.

"I can remember begging one of the perpetrators who I knew quite well not to send anybody else into that room and to just let me go home and them just laughing at me, telling me to get up and basically just get on with it."

Charges dropped

She says she reported her abuse to the police "three months after my sexual exploitation started".

Emma says she saved the clothes she had been wearing during the attacks and handed the items to police as evidence. "They lost the clothing, so there was no evidence," she says.

After that, Emma says she was told it was "my word against his" and that the case "probably wouldn't result in a conviction, or even get to court".

At the same time, she says, her family were being threatened and intimidated.

"The men were parking outside my house, they were threatening my family, they were ringing my house phone - and they were quite dangerous men as well," she adds.

"The police said they couldn't offer any protection, so because of that I decided to drop the charges."

Mum rape threat

She says: "I was 13 at that point and my sexual exploitation went on until I was 15."

Her mum was the first person she told about what was happening but even then her family were unable to stop the abuse.

"My parents went to the relevant services, they went to the people who should have been there to help and protect [me], because as a family we couldn't stop these people," she says.

Emma says her parents even locked her up - "as many other parents" of victims had done - but threats from the men left her fearing for her family's safety.

"I had no choice really, because they used to threaten to get my mum and rape my mum," she says.

"So in my mind, as a 13 or 14-year-old, it was 'Well if I didn't go out and see them they are going to get my mum and are going to rape her'.

Parents 'saved me'

"They gang raped me, so what stops them from doing that to my mum?

"They used to follow my mum because they used to know when she went shopping, what time she had been shopping, where she had gone."

Emma adds: "I look back at it now - I was a child, these were adult men who were very, very dangerous, very nasty, they knew everything about me because in the grooming process I had told them everything.

"So they knew all about my family, they knew where we lived, they knew everything.

"I knew nothing about them apart from their nicknames."

In the end she says her parents decided the only way to stop the abuse was to move her "out of the country".

"That was the decision that saved my life," she says.

Abusers 'still free'

Emma says she was away from the UK until she was 17, and when she returned she got "fantastic" help from a psychologist and a psychiatrist.

"When I started talking to them, what I did find is that I wasn't the only child who had sat in their offices with this complaint against these men," she says.

But she says her attackers remain at large.

"I still see them, they still walk about the streets," she says.

"My way of dealing with that is just completely blanking out that they're there, but it just maddens me and sickens me that they've destroyed so many lives."

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Women’s Aid welcomes new report from the Women and Equalities Committee

 Polly Neate, Chief Executive of Women’s Aid, said:

“We welcome the Women and Equalities Committee Report on sexual harassment and violence in schools. We particularly welcome the recommendation that sex and relationships education be made a statutory part of the national curriculum. At Women’s Aid, we know that SRE is an essential part of any strategy to prevent domestic and sexual violence. Young women aged between 16 and 24 are the most likely to experience domestic abuse, and we believe that age-appropriate SRE should be provided from the start of primary school until the end of full-time education. If we are ever to prevent domestic abuse, we must recognise that its roots are in inequality between men and women and the gender roles that are accepted and promoted everywhere we look. Violence against women and girls is rooted in misogyny; education is vital in order to unpick these attitudes and challenge our victim-blaming culture.

“Sex and relationships education can only be successful if our schools are safe for girls, free from abuse and sexual harassment – remember, if girls are not safe at school their human rights are being infringed. We must give young people the tools to recognise when abuse is happening and know where to get help. Our campaignLove Don’t Feel Bad is a useful tool for this. We also run Safer Futures, a national project that builds networks between local schools, specialist domestic abuse services and Local Authorities to ensure that healthy relationships education is delivered responsibly and effectively. In addition, our federation of around 220 local specialist domestic abuse organisations has a wealth of experience in supporting schools to deliver sex and relationships education, backed up with support for children and young people who are experiencing abuse themselves, or who live in homes where abuse is taking place. This whole-school approach is essential. We need the government to make this a national priority – and act as a matter of urgency.”

‘I’ll never forget the looks he gave me. I knew he wanted me dead’

A woman living in a women’s refuge in Tallaght tells her story and appeals to the government to prevent its closure.

Anonymous

I’LL NEVER FORGET the looks. When I think of them I get goosebumps and shivers down my back. I knew he wanted me dead. I didn’t know what was worse, his death stares radiating right into me or the thick tense atmosphere in the house that worsened every time he entered a room.

I lived with my in-laws and gave all my wages to my husband. I had no say in how the house was ran, but I sure as hell had to clean for them. I couldn’t say no – not after broken ribs, or bleeding kidneys or being dragged around the kitchen floor by my ankles.

Not after being locked in my bedroom or being taken out of my job, and most definitely not after having my husband wipe his bottom on me instead of using toilet roll.

Picking up on the atmosphere

I wasn’t allowed hug my girls and their dirty nappies were shoved in my face. If I asked for money for nappies there was trouble. My two girls were always quick to pick up on the atmosphere. They knew when to walk on eggshells and when they could laugh.

For the love of my girls I had to get out. I knew it would destroy them too – if it wasn’t already beginning to do so.

I’m a mother and I’m supposed to be able to look after my girls. I just wanted them to have a safe home. The word home creates the image of warmth, comfort, safety, a haven.

When I left my fifteen year abusive marriage, my girls and I became homeless. I would watch people in the queue at the shops, hearing the mothers say to their girls ‘we’re going home now’.

I would think how wonderful that must feel. Our most basic need – a place to call home had become an untouchable luxury.

I would want to scream ‘can anybody help me look after my babies, can somebody help me get up and make me strong again because the monster I lived with had destroyed me. I’m so broken, I can’t fix myself on my own’.

I am extremely lucky

Somebody out there did hear my cries and eventually I was extremely lucky to be welcomed here at the women’s refuge, Cuan Alainn.

It means safe harbor and that’s exactly what it is. I wouldn’t have made it this far if it wasn’t for Cuan Alainn. The staff, their expertise, the way they helped me develop coping skills, build my confidence, has been so empowering. I’ve also learnt here that I cannot look after my girls if I don’t look after myself too.

When I first came to the refuge there wasn’t an hour that went by when I didn’t break down and cry or jump with fright at the sound of a phone ringing or a door closing. I felt exhausted from just trying to stay afloat to try save myself from drowning. When women come here, we’re broken, we need places like this so we can start to rebuild ourselves.

Nothing came close to the feeling of knowing the two things I treasured and loved most in my life, my daughters, were safe in a new home with me their mother. Those words still bring tears to my eyes. The idea of having a safe home – it sounds so beautiful. The TV playing softly in the background, the sound of my girls gently breathing every now and then a little laughter.

Closure is a disaster – where will women go?

But now it’s being taken away from us again. The idea that CuanAlainn will close is beyond belief again. Where do women like me and my girls go? What about other women who, like me, need a lifeline to get away from danger?

I am writing this to show James Reilly that women like me need Cuan Alainn. Without it our lives are at risk, our children are at risk and it’s either go back or be on the streets.

What do I tell my girls when they look up at me and say, ‘Mammy, where are we going to live?’ Right now, I just gently say, ‘I’m so sorry chicken, but Mammy doesn’t know’. ‘Okay Ma,’ they sigh, and I recognise the same anxious looks on their faces they had before we came here.

This contributor wishes to remain anonymous. She lives in Cuan Alainn, a women’s refuge in Tallaght that provides second stage temporary housing for survivors of domestic violence. Respond housing association, who funded the service since 2012, can no longer afford to support it. It will be forced to close on the 18 December unless the government agrees to cover the €350,000 cost per year it needs in order to stay open.