being the victim and somehow dropping the whole thing felt like maybe it would stop me being a victim, that I could opt out. One of the worst moments in the aftermath was the sickening realisation that he didn’t have to respond. I felt powerless all over again. THE PERFECT VICTIM This is the problem: you have to be the perfect victim. If you’re too pretty, you were asking for it. If you were too ugly, then it’s a compliment. You must be upset enough so those around you know it affected you, but not so upset that you’re hysterical. But don’t be too guarded otherwise they’ll ask, “what’s the problem?”. At every step of the way you are conscious that your every move is scrutinised. If you are not the perfect victim, no one wants to help. There are no heroes in these situations – just fighters in the trench who are struggling just as much as you. Over time, I lost the will to fight for myself. But the thought of all the women before me, all the women to come, pricked at my conscience. I’ve always been better at fighting for others than myself. So, I hang on for those that can’t. You see, I had enormous privilege in that moment: the money to walk away if I chose and the money to appoint a lawyer. This money meant I could choose to fight. Barely any have that choice. The fight is re-traumatising and you can’t begin to heal until you stop fighting. But stop fighting too early and you may never forgive yourself. At that time, I felt like I didn’t belong in the shipping industry, even that I had deserved to be assaulted. Maybe if I wasn’t ambitious, I wouldn’t have been in that room and then I’d still be me? The me I can never return to. FINDING “MOTIVATION” His company eventually responded. They formally warned him. It’s open correspondence. No fear of a breach of NDA here. Silence was never on the table. Did it feel like victory? Partly. I accomplished something. Was it enough? No. Did it balance the ledger? No. Was it over? I wished. I so desperately wished it would restore me to the “before” me. But she was gone. I was also angry. I decided I needed to leave my job, maybe leave shipping all together. At one point I had a glimmer of self confidence (or arrogance) and thought, “I’d hire me”. Then I thought, “I will hire me”. So I started a law firm. How hard could it be? Spite was a big part of my motivation, and it served me well. Every time the threat of uncomfortableness or a new experience reared its head, spite had me hurtling through the barrier like a battering ram. And then the weirdest thing happened. It worked. People liked me, respected me. The work came in and the money came in.
thedcn.com.au
During my first year of business, I became president of WISTA Australia. I honestly wouldn’t have had the nerve to start my business without their unwavering support. And now I was in charge. I wasn’t coming out guns blazing as Alison Cusack, principal lawyer, now I had to be strategic, nuanced, diplomatic – something I had to re-learn. The balancing act was difficult. I didn’t know how to call out behaviour in a sophisticated Julie Bishop death-stare manner, but I also couldn’t be silent. CHINKS IN THE ARMOUR I nearly walked away from this industry because I was hurt, angry and because I felt powerless. But I forged my own path, determined to make the industry better. We can love things that aren’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean we don’t strive for better. I strive for better every day. I am bossy, determined, strident, thunderous, a battering ram. And you know why? Every act of misogyny, of “boys will be boys” culture, each individual act, I see them as metal rings. On their own they’re innocuous. But when they’re unchecked, allowed, encouraged, they are fused together. And then suddenly these “innocent” individual acts together weave chain mail, armour against what is right, what is decent, what is safe. We cannot dismantle the armour that wraps itself around this industry with politeness, with grace, with a smile. We must arm ourselves and run headlong into the armour hoping this time, this time we will find a chink and finally dismantle the armour into pieces, back into innocuous harmless links. Please understand that I don’t want to be a battering ram. I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to be a change agent. I wish for ease, for safety, for a day when I don’t have to fight for the right to get into the room before I have the fight in the room. Before you say “but this is the best it’s ever been”, check your privilege and audience. Being assaulted can’t be the best for me, I refuse to allow it. You could all help. Each individual moment can make a change. And I’m not here to give you a cookie or a gold star. If you haven’t assaulted anyone – good. That’s the standard. If you want to strive for more, to make change, start small, be the ripple in the pond. And finally, to him, his board and especially his general manager who asked, “how can we make this go away”: you do not get to claim credit for this version of me. I had to become this person, the indomitable fire. I have seen the truth of your character. I won. If this story has raised any issues for you or you would like support or information, contact: Australian Human Rights Commission - 1300 656 419 Fair Work Commission - 1300 799 675 Beyond Blue - 1300 224 636 1800Respect - 1800 737 732 Lifeline - 13 11 14
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