Three years ago, my sister told my mum that her husband, my brother in law, had confessed to having a consensual sexual affair with me when I was 16 and he was 35. Over the next two weeks, my sister went from ‘I will have to divorce him’ to ‘We have to forgive him to save the family’ which probably meant save reputations, save the business. Ultimately, she wanted it all to go away. Mum and I couldn’t accept that.
Two years prior to his ‘confession’ I had drawn a line in the sand and said I did not want him in my life anymore. I had been concerned that he may have abused others. My sister and her only daughter accepted this arrangement and would still see me. My mum also made the decision she did not want him in her life either. Many years before, when I was 19 ( I am now in my 40’s), I had disclosed the abuse to my sister. My mother and my brother also knew of the disclosure. I was living in a different town then, away from them. When my sister confronted me about being in a relationship with a girl at Uni, she asked me if a man had sexually assaulted me. She asked me if it had been her husband. I said ‘Yes.’ I expected her to show sympathy. I expected my other family members to call out his behaviour and support me. That isn’t what happened. She was pregnant with his child at the time. My family decided it was best that it wasn’t pursued. I didn’t know that at the time. My reality was that they thought I had either made it up or that I had a mental problem.
A few years passed and I began working with my sister in her company. A relationship of mine had broken down and I was in a bad way emotionally and mentally. The abuse disclosure became this thing that was ever-present but never addressed, and so we went on. We did the usual family things and my abuser became just my sister’s husband. It was as if I blocked out parts in order to cope. Or as if he had two sides and I only looked at one. Sometimes family members would remind me that I had mental problems or said I was overly dramatic and sensitive if I showed any ‘negative ‘emotion.
The memories never left. My brother in law had abused me from the age of 12-17. I tried to minimize the abuse. I tried to suffocate the truth with distractions, some unhealthy. I tried to live my life with this awful thing locked in a vault. Sometimes I would break down, sometimes I would tell friends, little bits but never too much. I was always worried about what would they think of me if they knew. Years later, friends from school came forward and shared the disclosures at the trial. He tried to make me keep the secret. I told.
He is now in jail. The hardest thing is that there are members of my family and some former work colleagues, that still refuse to accept. My biological brother invited him to his wedding after he was arrested. Mum and I didn’t get an invite. I believe some of them know him to be guilty but they cut me off when it became a legal matter.
My father died of suicide when I was 17. I will never know if he had begun to suspect what was happening. There is a lot of the past I will never truly understand. I am fortunate to have my mother’s and friends’ support. I have felt as if my dad was with me too. I always associate the number 33 with him. I have seen that number everywhere since the first time I sat down with the detective, through the long legal process.
I know there is one person responsible for the pain, for the brokenness in the family, though I keep having to remind myself of it. I spoke my truth and I was believed. How lucky I am. I wish it was so for everyone. A few women from the sexual abuse support group I go to went to hear the verdict. One of them said afterward, she felt the GUILTY verdict was for her abuser too. I said it was.
During the trial, a picture of me as a young teenager wearing purple swimming togs was shown. Purple is my favorite colour. I was abused not long after the swimmers were purchased. During group one day, I had mentioned the fact that I stopped wearing bright colors and used to wear a lot of black. A few women came to the trial and heard the evidence in relation to the swimmers and wearing purple was their way of showing me they supported me. The prosecutor also wore a purple shirt under her robe during the trial. On FB friends started sharing a purple heart with the word justice. I had referred to the impact of seeing myself as a child wearing the swimmers brought up on the screen in the courtroom and realizing how young I was and that the girl in the photo was smiling but sad. I referred to this moment when I delivered my Victim Impact Statement after the verdict. I am wearing that colour again now, in memory of the teenage girl in the purple swimmers and in solidarity with every survivor. It’s a purple that is loud and vibrant.