Last May, Jess Howard went for a drink with her friend. She stayed out until around 11pm, was offered a lift home by a man on the street and got in his car. Twenty minutes later, her life had been forcibly, irreversibly changed.
Jess was raped. She is the one in five of us who experience some form of sexual violence in our lifetime from age 16 – a figure a new report out last week suggests is on the rise. The report, commissioned by Scotland Yard and the Crown Prosecution Service, warned of an ‘exponential’ increase in offences over the next decade, following a staggering 68% rise in rape offences in London since 2005/6. Crucially, it called for ‘radical change’ in the way police and prosecutors deal with sex crimes in London.
It’s a groundbreaking report that could provide an overhaul of the way rape and sexual assault is dealt with in the UK where, despite the number of offences committed rising so steeply, the number of cases getting to court has increased by just 17%.
Jess, 23, made headlines in April when she courageously faced her rapist, Clive Howard, 57, in court, reducing him to tears by addressing him directly in a powerful statement. Waiving her right to anonymity, she said, ‘Because of you, my body is now worthless to me.’ Her statement threw the spotlight on a subject rarely spoken of: what happens to survivors of rape and sexual assault in the aftermath of their ordeal, and then later, after the court case is over.
Rape has long been commonplace as a ‘shock’ storyline in TV dramas from EastEnders to Game Of Thrones, and newspapers routinely report allegations and, though rarer, convictions of sexual violence. All too often, the commentary ends with a judge’s decision; the storyline is concluded, the script abruptly finished. In the fictional world of TV and film, survivors of rape and sexual assault are left to ‘move on with their lives’.
In reality, the repercussions of these crimes can last a lifetime. They range from body issues, eating disorders, sexual difficulties, anxiety – even loss of relationships and friendships. A movement to bring these issues out into the open in order to ensure much better long-term care is provided for victims is gathering pace.
‘It’s seen as a taboo,’ Jess, from Basildon, Essex, told Grazia last week. ‘But for the rest of my life, I am always going to have been raped. It’s strange how 20 minutes can change your life so much, and afterwards, recovering can be so hard.’
Jess was 22, a student taking a year off from her course, when she left The Playhouse pub in Norwich on 29 May 2014. ‘I was so tired and hungry, so when there were no taxis in sight, I put my hand out to get a lift down the road. I used to not tell people that part – that I hitched a ride, something I’d never done before – because I thought it made the whole thing my fault. I blamed myself for what happened next. Now I know I was wrong to blame myself.’
When a car pulled up, Jess got in the front seat and told Howard, who is of no relation to Jess, where she was heading – yet he started to veer off course. ‘Eventually he stopped the car and somehow, I don’t remember how, I ended up in the backseat,’ Jess said. ‘I don’t have any memories of feeling pain, but I remember feeling overpowered. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. When it was over he let me out but refused to give me my tights or underwear back. Of that 20 minutes, that’s the only thing I remember.’
'The sentencing judge told the court he was ‘every woman’s living nightmare’.
The next day, police arrested Howard at his home. After initially denying the offence, this year he pleaded guilty and in May was jailed for life for attacking at least six lone women over a 30-year period. Described as a night-stalker rapist, the sentencing judge told the court he was ‘every woman’s living nightmare’.
For Jess, the nightmare continued long after the night in question. ‘It was like he had taken control of my body,’ she explained. ‘I wasn’t looking after myself, I wasn’t me. I was disassociated from myself and my body – he took it away from me. I had no control.’
The effect on women’s own perceptions of their bodies following sexual violence is enormous. Reports suggest that many find they can’t look at themselves in the mirror, let alone in a photograph, and sex can be so tense that they vomit afterwards. ‘The first person I slept with after the rape was a friend,’ said Jess. ‘Afterwards, I felt like the rape had happened all over again.’
Jess also lost friendships and saw relationships fail because dates couldn’t face the fact that she’d been raped. She developed a fear of the police and taxi drivers, which made it difficult for her to feel safe outside.
‘It’s not an exaggeration to say that some of the effects after rape are life-threatening,’ says Pavan Amara, founder of the My Body Back project, which aims to provide practical and emotional support for victims of rape and sexual assault. ‘It means women won’t go to the doctor for basic health check-ups because they don’t want to be touched. One woman who contacted me had developed an eating disorder after her sexual assault because she blamed her body – or what she was wearing – for what happened.
‘Sexual violence has huge repercussions on women’s lives. And yet, because of social taboo and because it makes people feel uncomfortable, no one talks life after rape.’
According to last week’s report by Dame Elish Angiolini QC, formerly Scotland’s top prosecutor, we need to talk about it more than ever. The report gave 46 recommendations for reform in the way we deal with sexual assault – that we need more Government funding, better training for police officers in speaking to those reporting sexual offences, and specialist centres to help those suffering.
The latter is something that Pavan is aiming to change. In August, the UK’s first specialist centres for survivors of sexual assault and rape – offering short- and long-term help – will open in London with the aim of expanding north. The clinics will provide a safe and comfortable environment for women to get self-testing STI checks, smear tests in safe environments and counselling, which is currently only provided in the short-term.
‘There is a silence after sentencing for women – the media don’t report what happens afterwards, neither do TV programmes,’ says Pavan. ‘We want to be there for the women who feel unsupported in the years after sexual violence, who can’t talk about the after-effects they’re suffering. We want to break that silence and help women reclaim their bodies.’
For Jess, the recent completion of her degree has been a cathartic exercise in her recovery – now she aims to help others regain control ‘not just physically, but in all aspects of their lives’ after rape and sexual assault.
‘I want people to know it’s OK to feel like you’ve lost control,’ she said. ‘It can take years to recover and that’s OK. Reclaiming our bodies – our health – and our lives is the very least every woman deserves. Now I like to think like this: I am not a rape victim, I am a woman who has been raped. Despite what he did to me, I am still me.’