This poem is going to be threefold,
But there are far more than three stories to be told,
In the past few months, I’ve felt unprecedented despair,
It has assaulted every nerve and raised every hair.
How can we possibly say we’ve progressed
When we repress the sexually aggressed?
First, I want to address the case of Ched Evans,
I am not familiar with his performance on the pitch
But I do know that he is a footballer, famous and rich,
And I know what he was put in prison for,
Obtaining a key to a hotel door, to join a friend
Who was having sex with a drunk girl of nineteen,
After he got a text ‘Got a bird’ it said,
He had sex with her and then left through the fire escape.
And she didn’t scream ‘it’s rape, it’s rape’,
Only that she wasn’t sure, but she knew something wasn’t right,
Because she’d never seen him before he appeared that night.
She didn’t consent to him being there.
He did his time,
But many started to act as if it was her crime,
She was trolled, taunted on social media sites,
And then he was acquitted,
On what grounds you might ask?
Rewards were offered on Ched’s site,
and ex-boyfriends came out as you can imagine they might.
‘oh yeah she liked sex’
‘She always said ‘Fuck me harder’
As if that’s the most original thing that has ever been said,
Amongst two people fucking in bed.
And suddenly he is innocent.
She was just a slut, she liked sex,
It’s never rape if they like sex.
Only a week later a tape is revealed,
‘Grab them by the pussy’ he said
Women came forward,
Stories of molestation spilled over the press,
But to no avail,
It roused no response,
Frustrated truths further frustrated,
Shhhed back under the carpet,
Where it’s grey and dirty,
Where rape accusations belong,
Where no one can see them
And nothing looks wrong.
‘Grab them by the pussy’
He said to the world
And 61,251,881 people of America,
said ‘Hey that’s cool. What are you up to for the next four years?’
So when someone who has sexually assaulted women is suddenly President of the United States,
You can no longer say ‘hi we’re the western world, and we’re really tough on rape.’
13 years ago, ‘my pussy’ was grabbed,
And entered by a man, I had not invited in.
I woke up, he was on top of me,
Inside me.
The next time I woke, I found my knickers on the floor,
I remembered a club and drinking his drinks and taking his drugs.
And then.
Did I tell anyone?
No.
I stayed silent,
My lips sealed by all I knew would happen if I revealed.
Nothing.
Perhaps a long court case, with pictures of me in my revealing dress,
moments captured on CCTV with his drinks in my hand,
While I laughed at his jokes and then maybe one of me in the bathroom,
Crouching over the toilet, sniffing his coke.
They would assess the situation,
Go through it with a fine toothcomb
‘Hmm. It seems she was quite up for it’
They would say.
And even if she wasn’t, you’ve got to admit,
She was leading him on
And lads – that’s just what they’re like,
You give them a taste and they’ll want a bite.
So I kept quiet,
I blocked it out, buttoned it up, pinned it down,
And the only reason I speak now
Is because when faced with attempts to silence us,
Which they do, every single day,
With every rape accusation they hush and shh away,
Each time they try to tell us ‘oh no big deal, it’s okay’
We have to say
NO it’s not.
It’s not okay.
It’s not okay.
It’s not okay.
