The Power of Women

For International Women’s Day, I want to talk about the women in my life who have supported, inspired and encouraged me in ways I can’t even begin to describe. As I take the time to reflect, I remember the days I was at my lowest, after I had been beaten, raped and hospitalized, I found myself in the midst of a divorce. I had my ex-husband’s debt to pay as he had left the country in search of better opportunities.

I had no husband.

I had no money.

I had no hope.

It was easily the worst time in my life and I really struggled to be able to do simple things. Through it all, I had a very low sense of self-worth and my existence seemed so inconsequential.

I honestly do not know what I would have done if it hadn’t been for the women in my life that came to the forefront at that time. I am honestly so lucky to have met and call them my friends. From a dear friend who was constantly inviting me out to every family event, dinners at her house, spending time with her children and getting me out of the house at every possible opportunity, she was such a force – the ultimate multitasker who spent countless hours on the phone or in my miserable company. Her unwavering support and constant encouragement fed my willingness to keep going. To get up and make something of the awfulness of this situation.

I had another friend, who was always inviting me out to dinners, girl’s nights and dancing. She was bubbly, positive and had an absolutely infectious personality. Together, we would spend all-nighters dancing away, giggling and creating funny memories and in-jokes that we would laugh at for weeks afterward. I was always so grateful to spend a night in her company instead of fighting the grief until the cold morning light spread onto my bedroom walls.

In addition to the women who helped me personally, there were women who helped me professionally. In the early days of creating BRAVE, it had been bogged down in bureaucratic red tape and one day, I found myself in the office of a woman lamenting my situation. This woman fast became one of my biggest supporters, helping me to navigate my way around corrections and helping to bring BRAVE into correctional centers. She was knowledgeable, kind and had a knack for making things work in the face of adversity. Similar to me, she would often take the word ‘no’ as an opportunity to find a work around. Her commitment to bring BRAVE to trial is something I’ve never taken for granted and will always appreciate.

These women and so many more – co-workers that have supported me while I brought BRAVE to prisons, friends that have joined the cause, all those that send words of support and encouragement while I share my journey, this is a dedication to you. From one woman to another – thank you for your support – you have had a huge impact on me and together, we are making differences in the world that will hopefully, positively impact many more women in the future.

Why Restorative Justice?

Restorative justice.

I’d never heard those words before and had no idea what it meant.

It took about a year and a half for my rapist to be sentenced and up until then, the only input I had in the judicial process was to write my victim impact statement and read it out in front of a courtroom. I watched helplessly as the judge read out a string of charges to him. He stood up and muttered “guilty,” after each one. Then I heard the jingling of keys and he was cuffed and taken away. He was sentenced to thirteen years of adult imprisonment.

I numbly walked out of that courtroom as people patted my shoulder and said that I must feel relieved that it was now all over.

Except that I wasn’t.

Relief was not what I felt at all. I was awash with confusion and incredulousness as the last year and half had felt so surreal. I couldn’t understand how someone could go to the lengths he had, to inflict such a heinous crime on someone he didn’t know. So, I sat with it for a bit, but I couldn’t rationalize his actions at all.

I decided I needed answers. So, about two weeks after he was sentenced, I figured I needed more.

I needed to see him.

When I made the decision to visit him in prison, I didn’t know that it would take six months of lobbying the prisons themselves (yes there were a few – he was moved around a bit). Finally, I was on the phone for the umpteenth time with a general manager who said words I’ll never forget:

“Oh, you want a visit for the purposes of restorative justice.” That was the first time I heard it and I replied dismissively, “No, I just want to have an open and candid discussion about what happened.” The general manager warmly went on to explain to me what the premise of restorative justice meant.

See, there are generally two types of restorative justice: the first kind is direct – which is what I was trying to achieve- where the victim speaks with the offender who perpetrated the crime against them. Typically, in these situations, there would be a facilitator and support people for both the offender and the victim, usually in the form of a psychologist or other nominated party. The second is vicarious – which is where you have victims of crime that talk about the effects of crime in front of offenders that are unrelated to their particular crime. In my situation, I was receiving neither of these options, rather I was pursuing a conversation with my rapist that I would facilitate myself.

Eventually, I was permitted to see him. When that day arrived, I had a friend drive me into the correctional center. I had never been to a prison before and as I looked out of the car window, watching trees and road lines whizzing by, I felt sick to my stomach. What was I doing? Who does this? Am I going crazy? I leaned forward, sucking in gulps of air to ease the anxiety roiling through my body. My friend looking on concerned and reassuring me that the car could be turned around at any moment. At this point though, I was determined to press on. I was going to do this. Little did I know that the conversation we had that day would then be what catapulted me on to create my own restorative justice program; BRAVE: Building Restoration And Victim Empathy.

After our conversation, I started looking into restorative justice avenues in earnest. Despite my best efforts, I found that there were no restorative justice avenues available to me. Other than the conversation I had instigated and facilitated with my own rapist, I would have no further opportunity to engage in direct restorative justice and be supported in that process. This seemed absolutely ridiculous considering that restorative justice is not a new concept and is used widely in many countries including America, Canada, the UK and even New Zealand. The idea that there was nothing available to victims in Queensland, Australia seemed like a major oversight, that needed to be put right. So I set about, doing my research and eventually created a restorative justice program that I pitched to Queensland Corrective Services. After three years of back and forth, they agreed to put the program to two trials in 2024.

My vision was to create a program that allowed offenders to face the ramifications of their crimes as well as empower victims of crime to come forward and have their voices be heard in a safe and supportive environment. I wanted the coming together of offenders and victims of crime to be the catalyst for positive change. I wanted everyone to walk away proud of engaging with each other and reflecting on their respective journeys. I wanted everyone to feel a sense of inspiration and most of all, I wanted everyone to feel BRAVE.

A HolidAY rEMINDER

What do you do when the festive season isn’t so festive? When all you hear from others is the excited chatter of upcoming plans and arrangements, when everywhere you go is filled with cheerful Christmas tunes and you see the hubbub of people bustling around to gather everything they needed for the perfect holiday period?

For many years I’d be surrounded by the chaos of friends and co-workers who would be eagerly talking about their upcoming plans, who would eventually, turn in my direction and pointedly ask about mine.

“Uh. I don’t know yet..” I would mumble, just to ward off any further questions. The truth was – I didn’t feel like celebrating. The 21st of December had been the day I was brutally and viciously attacked and raped by an unknown man in my own home. Christmas that year, had been spent with my neck in a brace, stitches in my head, bruising and lacerations all over my body and barely able to comprehend the shock I was feeling.

Nothing had been the same since that day.

For a few years thereafter, I would cloister myself away, knowing that I simply wouldn’t be good company and be alone. I would sleep a lot and do very little else except watch a bit of television or scroll social media. In between this numb existence, I would sob uncontrollably, grieving over the demise of my marriage, my survival and the part of me that was lost forever.

I would be so frustrated at myself for not moving through this period quickly enough. One year, I packed my bags and took myself on an overseas trip, thinking that getting out of the house and a change of scenery would do me good. Only to find myself crying in a hotel room alone on Christmas day, unable to suppress my tears as the loneliness and heartache overcame me. I knew then that I would be unable to run away from what I was feeling.

So what could I do?

When would this end?

They say ‘time heals all wounds’ and so I just gave in to the pain. I let myself rest when I needed to rest and I made sure that I ate wholesome, nourishing foods. Then I cried when I felt like crying and when the feelings of misery ebbed, I would take steps to look after myself. I drank lots of water, I worked out intermittently, I lit candles and played soothing music and tried to surround myself with the things I felt would help someone onto recovery.

While all that was well and good, I was missing a very important factor: I was missing human interaction. Something I think we all take for granted or get tired of at times, but is in fact a fundamental part of the human experience and integral to our existence. Fortunately, I had a wonderful group of people around me and many that came to the forefront during this time. I started accepting an invitation to spend time with a friend and her family, for a lunch out with a few co-workers, I would make phone calls and very slowly, year by year, the holiday period, while with some tough reminders – actually started to feel festive again.

So don’t underestimate the power of human connection, accept the olive branches as they come and if you know someone going through a tough time, it never hurts to reach out and offer an invitation. Time is the most precious commodity you can spend on someone.